Operation Red Sequoia , livre ebook

Troubador Publishing Ltd - Chris Worthington

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147 pages

English

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Description

Operation Red Sequoia is a fast paced, high stakes escape thriller, set at a Top Secret research facility in the Nevada desert.In the early years of the 21st century, project ESCA is born from deep within the defence department of the U.S. Government. Its brief is simple; to use the most advanced scientific and medical research available to create a more advanced human being. One with enhanced senses, metabolism, and immune system. A person who can be more effective in a wide range of environments, from hostile combat conditions to industrial espionage.Special Forces soldier Rudy Sillenbrook (Sill), is critically injured in an anti-terror operation, but his family are told he was killed in action and his body not recovered. He is the first guinea pig for the ESCA project, and will become part of a team of elite, almost super human, individuals. But a rogue senior scientist on the project has other plans. He discovers that he is dying from cancer so devises an audacious plan to get Rudy out of the facility.Once his escape has been confirmed, 'Operation Red Sequoia' is invoked; a term known to local and state law enforcement authorities in Nevada. Rudy must be returned alive, at all costs. There follows a thrilling chase from Las Vegas to New York as the project team attempt to recapture him.As the time ticks by the net slowly tightens as Rudy is tracked across country to his final destination, resulting in a thrilling climax that leaves Rudy clinging onto life by a thread.

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Publié par	Troubador Publishing Ltd
Date de parution	05 mars 2020
Nombre de lectures	0
EAN13	9781838598402
Langue	English
Poids de l'ouvrage	1 Mo

Informations légales : prix de location à la page 0,0200€. Cette information est donnée uniquement à titre indicatif conformément à la législation en vigueur.

Extrait

Copyright © 2020 Chris Worthington
Cover illustration by Wendy and Chris Worthington

The moral right of the author has been asserted.

Apart from any fair dealing for the purposes of research or private study, or criticism or review, as permitted under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988, this publication may only be reproduced, stored or transmitted, in any form or by any means, with the prior permission in writing of the publishers, or in the case of reprographic reproduction in accordance with the terms of licences issued by the Copyright Licensing Agency. Enquiries concerning reproduction outside those terms should be sent to the publishers.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

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ISBN 9781838598402

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Matador® is an imprint of Troubador Publishing Ltd

To W
with all my love
C
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Epilogue
1
Western Alaska. November 2006.
Seven men waited in a huddle below an ice escarpment. The weather was fine and clear, but bitingly cold. Overnight, several inches of snow had fallen, but now the wind had dropped and conditions were good. One man raised a clenched fist to shoulder height.
“Gentlemen, team meeting,” Sol called out quietly, and the men huddled in close.
“I know, I know; we should all be back home by now. We got screwed last night by the intelligence guys sitting in their nice, warm offices, but the word is now that mission status is ‘go’. Things are happening on the coast, a mile or two south of here.”
He checked his watch. “So, it’s 9am, local time; here’s the plan. Blake, Phantom and Duke: you guys take up position to the south-east. Sill, Silver and Tron: I’ll come with you to the south-western edge of the ridge down there. Between us, we should get good visibility of their approach. We all got that? Now Centcom are talking in my ear. Targets started heading our way nearly an hour ago.”
“An hour ago!” Sill called out. “Jesus Christ; it’s nice of them to keep us in the loop.”
“So, they should be here soon,” Sol continued softly. “Now there’s a chopper on the way to pick us up, there’s no place for it to land here, and it can’t accommodate any wounded personnel. Are we clear on that? Anyone with injuries, even a twisted ankle, gets picked up by the coastguard after we leave. So, let’s do this and do it quickly. Gentlemen, do we all have some adrenaline flowing?”
Six heads nodded.
“Okay then.”
They all extended their clenched fists into the centre of the circle and pressed them forwards for a few seconds. This was the final gesture before the team deployed to their operational positions.
“And let’s all remember this one thing, guys,” Sol added. “Very few people know we’re here, and if we screw up, even our families won’t find out how it happened.” He shrugged. “Who else would do this job, huh? Who else?”
But, then, a surprised look fixed on Sol’s face as blood and bone fragments exploded noiselessly from his forehead, just above the left eye, followed a split second later by the crack of a bullet fired from close by. He crumpled to the floor, dead before his blood could start melting a deep-red crater in the frozen snow.
“ Break! ” Tron yelled.
The team scattered for cover as another shot rang out from a different direction. This time, no one was hit. Within seconds, the sound of multiple gunshots ripped through the air, and Phantom was cut down quickly by a crackling burst of automatic fire that tore across his stomach and thighs. He just managed to discharge both of his blast grenades at the source of the shots as he slid into a shallow ditch of bluey-white snow and his cries died away rapidly. Duke and Silver crawled to one side where a fallen tree provided some degree of cover as shots continued to echo around the rocky backdrop of the small clearing. It was impossible to tell how many combatants they were dealing with.
Sill slithered twenty yards, almost submerged in wet snow, and managed to get a brief glimpse over the ridge to where a knot of figures crouched around a box on the ground, all aiming weapons outwards. He was the best marksman in the team, and reached quickly into a zipper pocket on his left thigh and pulled out a handgun. He smiled to himself; it was time for some target practice. He took aim and fired at the crowd; four quick shots, taking out all but one of the targets. He cursed as the single escapee made a run for the nearest cover, but Duke had laser cross hairs on him and fired a single shot to the head from his now safe vantage point. The unknown individual dropped instantly to his knees, and Sill, Silver and Duke acknowledged each other across the clearing with raised fists.
The shooting stopped temporarily, and Sill could survey the scene down below more clearly, as Duke advanced forwards slowly and began dragging the bodies apart. Sill sighed with relief as he heard the distant sound of the helicopter. The team were hungry and very cold, but this would all be over within the hour and they could…
Suddenly, Sill heard a gasp of pain from very close by, followed by a single shot. He moved speedily, ducking under the snow-laden branches, and soon found Tron lying face down, alongside the dead body of one of the enemy.
“Hey buddy,” Sill whispered urgently, “we’ll be done with these assholes soon; c’mon, let’s get out of here.”
But Tron didn’t move, and Sill saw wounds. He gently turned him over.
“The bastard stabbed me in the back,” Tron gasped. “Why did he fucking do that? Get out of here, go. Get the fuck away.”
“No, no, come on,” Sill insisted. “The chopper is coming; we’re heading home soon.” But he could now hear gurgling as Tron’s breathing faltered. Probably, his lung had been punctured.
“I’m done for, Sill; just go.”
“We’re not leaving without you, buddy. You stay right there; I’ll wait just over the ridge until they come for us. Don’t worry, we’re going to get you out of this.”
“Sure, Sill, I’ll be waiting.” Tron nodded and closed his eyes, slowly pulling his combat jacket tight around himself in an attempt to keep warm.
All was quiet for a while, and Sill reunited with the rest of the team in the clearing as Duke ransacked the bodies for any paperwork.
“Hey guys, what do you think is in the box?” Duke asked.
“None of our fucking business,” Sill snapped back. “Let’s just get the hell out of here; you heard how long we’ve got.”
Suddenly, a shot rang out, catching Sill in the shoulder and spinning him round.
“Ah Jesus… ah Jesus! ” He cried out in agony and fell to the ground.
Silver dropped down to attend to him. There was a lot of blood, but the wound looked superficial otherwise.
“ Leave him! ” Duke yelled, as another three shots were heard.
Blake then came running back into view, having just eliminated the sniper who had wounded Sill.
Silver looked up and called out sarcastically, “Yo, it’s the getaway driver! I hope no one’s stolen the limo.”
Blake had also neutralised another combatant at the perimeter of the clearing, but now was not the time for comparing notes. As far as what was left of the team were concerned, he hadn’t been in the thick of it.
“Let’s get out of here, now! ” Duke hissed angrily.
Sill rolled over. His face had drained of colour and his breathing was rapid.
“Oh come on, he can make it,” Silver looked up to Duke. “I’ll help him; I’ll take responsibility.”
“We leave him and we leave now; the chopper can’t take any injured,” Duke’s expression was like stone. “You heard the brief; let’s get to the rendezvous point.” He turned away. “And take his rations in case we need them. Blake, you go and get anything that’s left.”
Sill looked up and nodded slowly. He knew he probably could make it, but he also knew the rules. They all did.
“Go on, get out of here. I’ll activate my beeper.” Sill reached down with his uninjured arm and triggered the unit, which sat in a recessed compartment of his uniform.
Silver shook his head and stood up. “You take care, buddy, and you keep your rations. I’ll go hungry before I take food from a wounded man on the ground.”
Blake returned, already munching on a compacted grain bar. “Hey, Phantom had vanilla flavour. That’s my favourite.”
Silver shook his head disapprovingly as he and Blake picked up the box between them. This was the first time anyone had touched it, and they were surprised that it wasn’t as heavy as it looked.
As they prepared to leave, Duke switched on his radio. “Ops centre,” he murmured into it, “we are leaving the scene. Mission successful; request rescue for one wounded, possibly more, plus a number of dead enemy combatants. Out.”
Duke turned