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Category:
Action/Thriller
Publisher: Create Space
ISBN-10: 1519621833
Type: Fiction
Pages: 330
Copyright: Feb 2012
ISBN-13: 9781519621832
Price: $7.99 (eBook)
A coup is brewing in Belarus, the last dictatorship in Europe. Oleg Shorets, the country’s desperate Prime Minister, is devising a fake terrorist attack he can blame on Al Qaeda, using a devastating new weapon, and the more collateral damage the better. Thousands will die.
“In a world of deception and danger, one man’s pursuit of truth could either save a nation or cost him everything.”
CIA operative Blake MacKay embarks on a perilous mission to eliminate a dangerous Cuban arms dealer, General Hector Vasquez. Blake infiltrates Vasquez’s lavish estate after befriending the general’s daughter, Adriana, only to be caught in a botched assassination that leaves him wounded and on the run.
As he investigates, Blake uncovers Vasquez sold a new, lethal weapons system to Al-Qaeda weapons dealer, Zahmir Al-Hamwi, leading him to Afghanistan for a risky raid with devastating casualties.
Determined to avenge his team, Blake returns to Cuba, forming an alliance with Adriana that sparks a passionate romance. Together, they uncover a sinister plot involving Al-Hamwi, the Belarusian Prime Minister, and a coup d’état.
With his back against the wall, Blake must thwart a mass casualty terrorist attack and expose a high-level conspiracy, all while navigating betrayal within American intelligence. “Spear Garden” is a gripping tale of danger and determination against insurmountable odds.
“How this author tied everything together was nothing short of masterful.” - J. Rodgers
Excerpt
Chapter One
Vasquez Estate
Isle de la Juventud, Cuba
April 9th
13:00 local (18:00 GMT)
General Hector Vasquez sat in the comfort of his air-conditioned Range Rover and gazed out at his right-hand man, Luca Perez, as he prepared their latest weapon for testing. His eyes narrowed behind his Maui Jim sunglasses, and his teeth bit on his unlit cigar as he fished in his pocket for a lighter while studying the man.
Is it the heat, or is he afraid this thing won’t work? He had best get started.
Shielded from the sun by a large canopy, Luca was standing next to a folding table with laptops and monitors scattered about its surface. Palm trees lined the far side of the field past him. He wiped his forehead before heading to the SUV. As he approached, the general rolled open the window and lit his cigar. Adriana, his daughter, would constantly nag him to quit smoking.
What would she say to me now?
“General, we have the armament configured and ready to test.”
About fucking time.
Taking a long draw, he savored the tobacco’s essence and blew it out. The smoke lingered above his olive-green beret, like a cloud, and swirled as he opened the door and stepped into the heat.
His man beckoned. “Follow me, sir.” They walked to the command station, and once there, he lifted a bottle of water and drank most of it.
Vasquez sighed in impatience. “I’ve never seen a device like this. How does it work?”
Before responding, the man moved to the side to provide his employer with a clear view of the screen. “These weapons don’t use a traditional firing pin with a magazine or belt to feed ammunition into the chamber. Instead, these barrels are the magazines. The unit, which appears to be a simple black box, contains twenty-four of them stacked in four rows of six.”
“Here is one, preloaded.” He passed one to his boss, who accepted it and held it with both hands.
“It’s heavy.”
“Yes, sir. The barrel holds seven forty-millimeter grenades. As do all the others. If you pass it to me, I’ll show you how it’s loaded into the weapon.”
Vasquez handed back the barrel as he blew out a steady stream of smoke. Luca took the cue and moved faster. “Loading the appliance is quick. They’re inserted from behind.” He dashed into the scorching heat to one of the Metal Storm units a few meters away and unlocked a door at the back of the weapon.
The general spat on the ground. “You are right. It appears to be a plain, black box.”
Luca’s lips curled.
“Does something amuse you, Mr. Perez?”
He shook his head. “The same idea crossed my mind when I first saw it.” He put the barrel into the back end of the casing. When it snapped into place, he closed the door.
Vasquez wiped his forehead with a handkerchief and let out a deep sigh. A sign he was losing his patience. “Get on with it. What’s next?”
Luca cleared his throat and hurried back under the welcoming shade of the canopy. “We stack munitions, whether bullets or grenades, in barrels. Projectiles fire using electrical pulses. There is no gunpowder. It’s flawless to operate. No jams. You can set it to shoot at your desired pace.”
Vasquez chewed on the end of his cigar. His eyes scanned the horizon in thought. “What is the maximum rate?”
“Depending on the projectile caliber, anywhere from two hundred and fifty thousand, to one million rounds per minute.”
Luca paused to let the numbers sink in. “The grenades we’re launching are at the lower end of the scale. But at such a fast tempo, it will sound like a single shot.”
Vasquez rubbed his beard, his mouth agape, and stared over Luca’s shoulder.
That’s unbelievable. If true, I can raise the price. Or better yet, sell it to the highest bidder.
“Tell me about the kill zones.”
Luca pointed to the center monitor. “This section of the display represents the area in the southwest part of the field, out there.” He gestured as he spoke to a piece about three hundred meters away.
The general leaned over to read the screen. His gaze moved to the meadow, where indicated. “Continue.”
“If I push this button.” Vasquez glanced back at the keyboard. “Observe the deadly areas we have established. If anyone enters one of them without wearing a sensor.” He handed over a circular token the size of a coin to his employer. He reached out and inspected it. “I programmed the device to shoot all the grenades at the pace specified. Nothing survives.”
Colombians will want these to protect their estates. I’ll make millions.
“What about animals? Won’t they trigger the weapon?”
“No, sir. We can program the unit for a minimum body mass.”
Brakes squealed, and an engine stopped as a Jeep halted. The two men turned toward it. Julio Ramirez sat in the passenger seat; his hands clasped in his lap. The general put the cigar back in his mouth. A cruel smile crossed his face as he walked out into the sun toward the vehicle.
“Mr. Ramirez.”
Julio bowed his head. Vasquez enjoyed the man’s defeated countenance. One could expect his cowed expression after being locked in a cell, beaten, tortured, and starved for two weeks.
I wonder if it will surprise him when I tell him I’m letting him go.
The man answered in a quiet tone, with a distinct shake in his voice.
“Yes, sir?”
“How long have you worked for me?”
“Six months, general.”
“Have I been kind to you—the last two weeks notwithstanding? I provided you with food, shelter, money to send home to your family?”
“You were kind, boss.”
He moved closer to the prisoner and reached out, grasping him on the back of his neck. He squeezed. Julio’s shoulders tensed, and he closed his eyes. “Then why did you steal from me?”
The man remained silent and became more cowed. He tightened his grip, jammed the cigar into his mouth, and clamped down. He slapped the cowering man in the face. “Answer me!”
The general enjoyed it when the pathetic fool lifted his arms to ward off another blow.
“I—I don’t know. I mean—my family. We needed money, and I apologize.”
“You’re sorry? Is that all you have to say?”
A goddamn traitor, more like it. You’ll see how I deal with traitors.
He released his hold.
“I—”
“Shut up!”
Julio inhaled a quick breath and held it. His eyes squinted and his body jerked as his hands raised again.
He laughed. “Relax. I will not hit you.”
Yet.
Vasquez took the cigar out of his mouth and spat once more. Julio’s chin was dripping with sweat under Vasquez’s intense gaze.
God, it’s fucking hot. We need to get this over with.
“Trying to work out what to do with you has caused me sleepless nights. People fear me for my sometimes-severe methods, but those strategies are necessary to keep men in line. You understand, Julio?”
“I do, sir.”
“Speak up!” The general slapped him again.
“Yes!” He rubbed his cheek. In the reddening face of the condemned man, Vasquez could see the outline of his handprint.
“I’m also thought to be too brutal, according to rumors. Some believe I should be kind and more compassionate. How do you feel?”
The prisoner raised his head with a glimmer of hope in his eyes and attempted a half-toothed grin.
A cruel smile crossed the general’s face. “All right, then. It’s what I’ll do. I forgive you for your crimes against me by letting you go.”
Julio’s eyes widened, and he lifted his chin toward his captor as his grin grew broader. “You are?”
“Certainly. If you drive this Jeep to the far side of the field and go through those trees,” Vasquez pointed. “Someone is waiting for you to take you home. But Julio, there is one thing I demand in return.”
He nodded vigorously. “Anything, whatever you want.”
“Never come back or ask me for anything again. Understand?”
The man rocked back and forth in excitement. “Yes, thank you.”
Vasquez slapped the Jeep’s hood. “Go on!”
The driver stepped out and marched over to the canopy as the captive moved into the driver’s seat. The engine roared to life. Placing his hand on the gearshift, he paused before raising his head. His eyes were moist.
Vasquez stared into the condemned man’s face again. “What?”
“God bless you.”
Vasquez waved him forward.
He released the clutch. The tires stirred dust as they turned. Vasquez strolled over to the laptop and examined the screen. One of the kill zones detected a hostile entity within its defined parameters. An alarm sounded.
A fraction of a second later, a single blast startled the general and made him flinch. One hundred and sixty-eight grenades darkened the sky, like a swarm of bats. Vasquez’s eyes widened in anticipation.
A thirty-foot fireball was engulfed with dirt, steel, and body parts. Twisted metal, a blood-drenched seat, glass, and something looking like half a leg hit the dirt around a forty-foot crater in the field. Smoke emanated from the blackened pit.
Flickering fires from tiny bits of the Jeep, and Julio’s corpse danced on the ground. The general’s eyes squinted as a broad smile spread across his face. Laughing out loud, his weathered hand found Luca’s shoulder. “You were right. Nothing survived.”
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