Violence of Action (Rogue Warrior Series Book 11) by Richard Marcinko

Author:Richard Marcinko [Marcinko, Richard]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Contemporary Fiction, Literature & Fiction, Contemporary, Literary, Action & Adventure, Thriller
ISBN: 0743422767
Amazon: B000FC0WCY
Publisher: Atria Books
Published: 2002-10-22T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter

12

“You must know then, that there are two methods of fighting, the one by law, the other by force; the first method is that of men, the second of beasts; but as the first method is often insufficient, one must have recourse to the second. It is therefore necessary for a prince to know how to use both the beast and the man.”

NICCOLò MACHIAVELLI, The Prince, 1513

“Dick? Dick? Wake up, brother. Time to run and gun again.”

When I opened my eyes all I could see was Danny Barrett’s massive face not a foot from my own. The room the base commander made available to me was wrapped in soft darkness except for a single small light atop the desk in the corner. I was comfortable. I was warm. I was sore and not at all inclined to begin moving quickly just yet. “What the fuck? How long I been out?”

Barrett pulled back into the darkness. “Forty-five minutes. I got some good poop outta the asshole we hauled in. That chemical cocktail Karen sent along may work on soft cases. But it ain’t worth a shit on guys with SERE training and a religious bent toward radical racism.”

I gently swung my feet off the bed and sat up. Sore is not the word to describe how I was feeling. I gingerly touched my ribs on the right side of my battered carcass. Yep, that hurt. So did my head. So did my ass where I’d bounced off the railing on the ride down the fast rope. The interior of my mouth was dry and there was a bitter, ammonia like odor to my breath. I needed a hot shower, a toothbrush, some strong, strong coffee, and some good fucking news. “So, what’d you find out?”

Danny lit up a smoke. He seemed to enjoy the shit. Me, I prefer a good cigar. My old sea daddy, Ev Barrett, used a well-worked cigar to light demolition fuses. I learned from Ev how to light a fuse and how to smoke a good cigar at the same time. “I whupped him.”

“You what?”

“I whupped him. Sent everyone out of the room and bounced him around like a redheaded stepchild. Kicked his ass. Played pinball with him. Beat him like a yeller dog. Southern justice. Works every time.”

“He talked because you beat his ass?” I started laughing. This was too good.

Danny nodded in the shadows. “Yes. He did. I can be very persuasive. I have a way about me, or so I’ve been told.”

Grabbing a clean, dry turtleneck from the neatly folded change of clothes next to the bed I pulled it over my head. A shower would have to wait. Next came the new jeans, socks, and a pair of Danner Arcadia tactical boots. In under three minutes I was dressed. I belted on the Glock and checked my extra magazines. I fished the big folding fighter Kelly Worden had given me before I left Tacoma out of my ditty bag and slid it into my left front pants pocket.

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