Blowback (Breed Thrillers Book 10) by Cameron Curtis

Author:Cameron Curtis [Curtis, Cameron]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Inkubator Books
Published: 2024-09-29T00:00:00+00:00

The C-17 touches down at Kennedy. The pale gray military transport is an unusual sight at a civilian airport, but it’s a fast turnaround. We land on 31L, then turn onto 13R. Unremarked, we trundle past the International Aviation Terminal and stop at the General Aviation Terminal. That’s a no-no, but when you’re on a CIA flight, you can get away with anything.

I look out the window. There are three black up-armored Suburbans parked on the tarmac. Six hard-looking guys, two to a vehicle. Ground Branch operators. The rear loading ramp comes down, and we don’t bother with landing stairs.

We walk straight to the center Suburban and climb into the rear passenger compartment. I’m wondering why Stein doesn’t bring her personal protection with her overseas where we really need it.

The man in the front passenger seat speaks softly into a radio. The lead Suburban pulls out and we follow it over the Van Wyck Expressway and the RFK bridge. Drop down into Manhattan.

“We’re putting you up at the Intercontinental,” Stein says. “Not the best five-star in town, I’m afraid.”

“You know I’m happy at the Holiday Inn,” I tell her.

“I know.” Stein winks. “This time there’s a special reason for you to stay at the Intercontinental.”

“What’s that?”

“Lysenko’s staying there. It’s close to the UN, and he’s meeting with the Security Council tomorrow. The day after, he’s giving a speech to the General Assembly.”

“Alright.”

“I’ll be at my place on 5th Avenue. We’ve time to get settled. I’ll meet you at the hotel in two hours. We can make plans.”

“Can your boys find me a box of .45 ACP?”

“I’m sure it can be arranged.”

I check in, go up to my room, and unpack my duffel. At the bottom is a cleaning kit for my Mark 23. I field strip it, clean it, and oil the parts. Then I reload it with one in the chamber. Check my watch, shower, and get dressed.

Stein won’t be by for an hour. I pull my shirt down over the Mark 23, then go downstairs to the hotel bar. I order a beer, settle back in an armchair, and relax.

As much as a man can relax when there is a crew of trained killers out there with a weapon capable of incinerating the city. What did Fischer say? The blast effect will destroy everything in the bomb’s immediate vicinity, but most of the death and destruction will be wrought by fire. The intense heat generated by the explosion will ignite everything for miles around.

My eyes sweep the bar. Water whispers over a ten-by-fifteen-foot glass monolith. It’s set in the middle of a fountain. The bar is a wide space. Plush, with rustic furnishings and leather cushions. The bar food is carried in from the kitchen. The dining room is upscale. It’s not physically separated from the bar, continues the rustic décor, the tables set with glittering china and cutlery.

I care about the entrance to the kitchen, one of two exits. I never walk into a place I don’t know how to get out of.

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