Salal and Matt Gannon clash again in this to be released in the Fall, 2003 sequel to "The Jericho Gambit"
Salal is back -- his methods more dangerous and his hatred even deeper!
This time his target has an added focus. This time he is driven by revenge as well as loathing of the Americans. Here is retaliation that can only be ended by the disgrace and death of his enemies – Malcolm DeFore, the National Security Advisor to the President, General Rufus Brandt, the newly appointed Director of the CIA, and Salal’s personal nemesis, Matt Gannon, the American Army officer turned CIA agent.
Spurred by the failure of Operation Jericho and driven by ego and a consuming determination, Salal now leads a compulsive vendetta that turns into an irreconcilable blood feud for personal and family honor. He is determined to extract revenge on those who have thwarted his efforts to strike a crippling blow to the Great Satan, the United States of America. For every one of his destroyed 200 man fedayeen Jericho force, he vows the death of an American general officer as well as the extinction their immediate successors. He unleashes a silent, unsuspected killer and holds the power of life and death in a battle that can have only one ending – death to the Americans.
The obsession is real, the stakes high, and the action intense as Matt Gannon and Salal violently collide for a second time.
Machmued and his two body guards had rested about 30 minutes when a flicker of movement to his left caught the Arab terrorist’s eye. Without realizing he tightened his grip on the folded stock AK-47 and issued a sharp low hiss from between his teeth to alert his two companions who, in silence, adjusted their bodies and weapons into tighter firing positions, forming a three hundred and sixty degree triangle of overlapping observation and fire. The three men searched the area from their hastily camouflaged undergrowth hideout.
Five deer, four does followed by a large buck, bounded from the tree line, stopped and inquisitively turned to look back from whence they had just come, ears up, noses into the wind, poised for further flight. The woods became eerie in the silence.
The deer stood frozen. Without warning, the male, with a handsome buck with a rack of 8 points, snorted, whistled, and tossed his antlered head. He sprang without a sound off to the northeast, his white flag of a tail flashing on each quickening bound across the soft sandy earth. His four female companions delayed a half of a second and then moved as one to follow his lead. Without a doubt something had spooked the deer, something along their back trail.
Machmued and his companions lay frozen in their beds of sandy soil and wet leaves, their forms broken by their green and brown mottled fatigues and the dense brush surrounding their hiding place. Three AK-47 assault rifles which were held at the ready as their eyes searched the woods from where the deer had first appeared for the first signs of movement, for the coming of the enemy. No more than the sound of the drizzling rain dripping from the trees broke the silence. Nerves and senses were on full alert for each of the three men. The tension was thick and palatable. They had sworn not to be taken alive.