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What happens when a loving husband, father and grandfather, Fred Scott, out for a quiet night of fishing, suddenly comes face to face with two silent, and very deadly Soviet submarines, lurking beneath the waters off the Florida Panhandle? Dan Murr answers this question, and so much more, through a kaleidoscope of verbal imagery and heart pummeling fact. Each page is a human portrayal of three-dimensional characters, who will remain in your mind and heart, well after the last word has been read.
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Once you immerse yourself in "A Need to Know", the doubt will start to niggle, pecking at your conscience...is there not a very thin line between peace over war...right versus wrong...regiment over mayhem. You'd be forgiven if that niggle, turns to alarm, of whether beyond our picket fence of safety, is there not a political struggle lurking between powerful ally turned dangerous enemy? And what about the advancement of new technology...is it not merely a playground that underscores the competitive drive in our leaders - to be paramount against all other nations? And now, the reader swimming in a sweat of full-fledged panic, you would be forgiven if you ask: how can we be certain that our top secret military projects, conversed behind closed, guarded doors, is not an open passage for espionage?
This very talented author dares to write, where few authors like to strike their pen: in fact submerged in a military cloak of fiction. Murr leaves you, the reader, wondering just what is it that our leaders don't think we need to know?
Excerpt
The throaty noise of the outboard engine was carried along on a cooling breeze to the captain of the closest submarine. The full moon offered a complete view of the little boat to the commanding officer.
"Man that gun," he ordered the crewman
The crewmember quickly swung the heavy machine gun toward the fleeing vessel.
The captain stared out over the water, then calmly, and coldly gave the order: "Fire."
The sailor took careful aim and touched the trigger.
Fred never heard the sound of the burst from the hammering machine gun over the noise of his outboard engine. He never saw the bright red tracers streaking directly toward his boat. His focus was on the distant shoreline. First the roar of the engine bursting into flames; then, almost simultaneously, came the searing pain in his back and chest, as four slugs tore deep into his flesh, killing him before he hit the deck. The pain lasted only a moment.
The echo of machine gun fire drifted across the Gulf, gradually fading away until there was nothing but the sound of rushing water; as the two sleek-looking Alfa class hunter/killer submarines dove toward the bottom of the Gulf of Mexico. The newest of the Soviet Union’s growing fleet of submarines altered their course for the next destination, the ancient salt domes in DeSoto Canyon.
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