The Bonaparte Secret by Gregg Loomis

Author:Gregg Loomis
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
ISBN: 9781428509641
Publisher: Dorchester Publishing Co., Inc.

Dominican airspace

Fourteen minutes later

Coffee had never tasted better, even though it was out of a thermos. Thermals, already building in the day’s increasing heat, made a bumpy road of the air at an altitude of only three hundred feet just off a ribbon of golden sand, shaking the helicopter like a terrier with a rat. Gurt, indifferent to the turbulence, was dozing, leaning against the leather restraints that kept her from being thrown from the canvas seat. Dow, securely handcuffed, glared at Lang and Miles, who were seated across from each other.

“Those pictures you sent me along with your GPS position indicators, you have any idea what they were?” Miles asked through Lang’s headset.

“Packing containers of some sort. I figured someone might be able to read the Chinese characters.”

Miles bobbed his head. “The containers themselves told us all we needed to know.”

“Which was?”

“Warheads, most likely for DF-15, Dong Feng, or East Wind missiles.”

“Like, guided missiles?”

“Like. Chemical, nuclear or conventional, solid propellant, and MARV.”

Lang’s eyebrows rose in an unasked question.

“Maneuverable reentry vehicle. The warheads themselves can be guided as to speed and alter course to evade defensive weapons.”

Lang had almost forgotten the Agency’s love of technical jargon. “All of which means what?”

“Which means, once installed on a launch base, usually an eight-wheeled truck, anything within three hundred and seventy miles is a potential target.”

Lang mentally called up a map of the Caribbean. “We, the U.S., is out of range, then.”

“The Chinese are in the process of modifying a lot of their hardware. Wouldn’t surprise me if south Florida was within range in the not-too-distant future.”

“And Puerto Rico, where we still have a few military installations.”

Lang thought for a moment. “You think the Chinese are preparing to attack, what, a naval refueling base and former gunnery range?”

“Not my call. The higher-ups will make that decision.” He nodded toward Dow. “Along with the help of your friend there.”

Lang snorted. “Over tea and crumpets with his lawyer at his side? I doubt the Agency’ll get more than an ass reaming by some congressional oversight committee after a presidential apology for inconveniencing the peace-loving People’s Republic of China by interrupting a perfectly innocent trade mission. Hell, if you yell at him and make him cry, you’ll be regarded as a criminal.”

Miles smirked, the self- satisfied grin of a man who has been dealt the fourth ace in the hole. “Were he going to be turned over to the Agency, the newer, kinder, warm and fuzzy Agency, which is obligated to share its secrets with notoriously loose-lipped politicians, what you say would be true. As it is, I am merely a private citizen doing my civic duty for one of my country’s firmest allies.”

Lang leaned forward in his seat. “This I got to hear.”

“Very simple: I am vacationing in the Dominican Republic like hundreds of thousands of sun-loving Americans do every year. An official who happens to be a golf-playing and fishing buddy of mine mentions that Haiti, a country less than friendly to the DR, is harboring a fugitive .

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