Clive Cussler Fire Strike by Mike Maden EPUB & PDF – eBook Details Online
- Status: Available For Free Download
- Author: Mike Maden
- Language: English
- Genre: Suspense Action Fiction
- Format: PDF / EPUB
- Size: 2 MB
- Price: Free
PROLOGUE
BORNEO, 1963
drenching rain in the moonless night was perfect cover for the three
Special Boat Section operatives.
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The “wet cousins” of the better-known Special Air Service, the SBS was
a commando unit of the Royal Marines specializing in coastal insertions—
hence the mission tonight running a Zodiac deep upriver.
A stubborn British national named Rawlinson desperately needed an
emergency exfil from his family’s rubber plantation. The communist
Indonesian insurgents raiding across the region were hell-bent on killing all
foreigners and seizing their properties.
A Dutch family just eight kilometers
away had been decimated by the bandy-legged Marxists the night before
and Rawlinson and his wife suddenly realized they were next on their list.
Private Desmond “Wraith” Vickers killed the Zodiac’s big outboard
Evinrude and the three men paddled the last five hundred meters in
practiced synchronicity. They were grateful for the splattering downpour
that soaked their kits but silenced their efforts. All three men scanned the
dim shoreline for any sign of movement—of rebels, certainly, but also for
Bornean crocodiles, thick as flies in this part of the country. So far, lady
luck had paddled along with them.
The lieutenant gestured with his free hand and the men angled the
rubber-hulled boat toward the shore. They slipped noiselessly out of the
Zodiac and dragged it into the cover of thick brush. Each man unslung their
“Silent Sten” submachine guns and checked their mags by feel. Vickers
slipped his hand to his hip and patted the holster of his .38 Webley revolver,
then he snaked his fingers down his thigh to the hilt of his razor-sharp
Fairbairn-Sykes dagger in its well-oiled leather scabbard.
Good to go.
The lieutenant nodded in the direction of the plantation. Vickers, just
eighteen years old and the youngest operator in the entire squadron, took
the point, threading his way through the leaves and brush beneath the
orderly rows of rubber trees. On base he carried himself with the selfpossessed dignity of a landed earl, but in the field he moved with the
preternatural grace and cunning of a jungle cat. His inaudible movements
and sudden appearances had earned him the moniker “Wraith.”
Vickers halted at the edge of the clearing that led to the darkened
plantation house looming in the distance and scanned the perimeter yet
again. The lights were off as per the lieutenant’s instructions. So far, so
good.
Confident that the way was clear, Vickers dashed for the house in a
crouching run, his Sten up and his finger on the trigger guard. He silently
prayed that Rawlinson remembered the lieutenant’s order not to fire on
them as they approached the house. A nervous British civilian armed with a
loaded Lee-Enfield No. 1 could prove as lethal as any Indonesian killer.
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