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143 pages

English

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The ATB Valiant/Louisiana, an unusual type of oil tanker, is on a peaceful, seven day cruise from Texas to New York City, carrying eighty-five million gallons of gasoline. After the Arab Spring, former terror regimes are deceiving the world: building schools, feeding the hungry, showing a facade of peace, while enabling... Tar al Bazid sees his Saudi village ravaged by jets, bombs and bullets. This leads him on a murderous quest for payback. He and his band of seasoned terrorist soldiers attack and board the Valiant off the coast of Miami, with the intention of blowing her up next to the United Nations Complex in New York during a multi-national peace conference. Secrecy is maintained and no demands are put forth, because a plan of deception and misdirection is in the works. Reverend Tom Stevens is a preacher leading a new religion, teaching "Separate but Equal", a thinly veiled racist movement gaining major ground in America, violently demonstrating at the U.N. The terrorists are spotted and reported by Dr. Alex Arzu, a brilliant language professor. Shattered by the murder of his wife and kids, he seeks refuge as a hermit on a small Bahamian Island, only to return to the world a few years later to reveal all he has seen. Only Charlie Mitchell, a PTSD suffering veteran who is serving aboard the Valiant, and Captain John Sheppard, headstrong commandant of a U.S. Coast Guard station stand in their way.

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Thriller

Informations

Publié par	First Edition Design Publishing
Date de parution	05 décembre 2016
Nombre de lectures	0
EAN13	9781506901947
Langue	English

Informations légales : prix de location à la page 0,0420€. Cette information est donnée uniquement à titre indicatif conformément à la législation en vigueur.

Extrait

Valiant
Deception

First EditionDesign Publishing
Sarasota,Florida USA
Valiant Deception
Copyright ©2016 MichaelJ. Harvey

ISBN 978-1506-901-93-0PRINT
ISBN 978-1506-901-94-7EBOOK

LCCN 2016937795

August 2016

Published andDistributed by
First Edition DesignPublishing, Inc.
P.O. Box 20217,Sarasota, FL 34276-3217
www.firsteditiondesignpublishing.com

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. Nopart of this book publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system,or transmitted in any form or by any means ─ electronic, mechanical,photo-copy, recording, or any other ─ except brief quotation in reviews,without the prior permission of the author or publisher.

Crew:
Captain Bill Dover
1 st MateBrett Fiddler
2 nd Mate MikeJones
3 rd MateJacques “Jaq” Melendez
Chief Engineer FrankSantos
1 st Assistant Engineer Dave Mattson
2 nd AssistantEngineer Bobby Weeks
Wiper James Padmir
Lead Tankermen / AB(Able Seaman) Jim Todd
2 nd Tankerman / AB (Able Seaman) Charlie Mitchell
AB (Able Seaman)Clarence Roy
OS (Ordinary Seaman)Kelly Peters

Glossary ofShipboard Terms:
Port – Left
Starboard – Right
Stern – Back
Bow – Front
Head – Toilet
Bulkhead – Wall
Overhead – Ceiling
Deck – Floor
Companionway – Hallway
Hatch – Door
Ladder – Stairway (orActual Ladder)
Cabin – Room, sleepingquarters
Space – Room, not forsleeping
Galley – Kitchen/diningroom
Fiddly – The uppermostspace in an engine room, with open grating as decking
EPIRB – EmergencyPosition Indicating Radio Broadcaster
Engineer – Mechanic
Tankerman – Crewmemberwho pumps on and off the cargo, in this case, gasoline
Hawespipe – Tubethrough which the anchor chain passes
AIS: AutomaticIdentification System. A system that tracks vessel movements by automaticallysending out a signal that identifies the vessel.
Pigeon-holes – A seriesof circular holes with hand and foot holds built in, like a ladder
Stokes Litter – Wirebasket stretcher
Prologue

1996, MiddleEastern Market, Saudi Arabia

A warm wind added itsvoice to the clatter of human sounds, the voices of men and women haggling overgoods, some raised in anger but most in the feigned indifference that isendemic to successful bargaining in the traditional bazaar.
The occasional shriekof a child at play mixed with animal sounds added to the background noise andcompleted the picture of a routine day of business in the quiet village ofLiben, nestled alongside the ancient walls of the ruined palace grounds thatnow housed an army garrison of Saudi Arabia’s military.
As Tar Al Bazidwandered aimlessly by a table piled high with tools and farming equipment, hethought of his wife Aaima, whom he could see down the way in a heateddiscussion with a seller of chickens and other small animals.
Wryly he felt amusedsympathy for the seller, knowing she would grind him down to an impossibly lowprice. She was a fierce woman who, from her father, had inherited anindependent stubborn streak a mile wide.
He had been a Bedouinwanderer, raised on the ancient desert trading routes and had never been tamedby civilization. They had managed to stay independent of all the various formsof governments that had ruled the country. This confidence displayed by Aaimahad often been a point of embarrassment for Tar, as in Islam, the woman issupposed to be subservient to the husband.
There was no doubthowever of Tar’s devotion. He was locally known to be a devout Muslim, alwayspraying properly and observing tradition.
Tar felt a tug thatpulled him from the daydream. A glance down showed his two sons grinning up athim. Kaif, his oldest at eight, smiled and displayed a new wooden sword.
"May I havethis??? Pleeeeaaase??” “Pleeeaaase” echoed his little brother Ebi, a child oftwo years old. “I don’t know…I seem to remember a promise to help your motherfeed the animals yesterday…and you couldn’t be found!” “I will help from nowon!!” shouted the boy, “I will help!” copied Ebi.
As Tar began to answer,he began to notice sounds dying down around him as people stopped moving andbegan glancing around, a few beginning to look to the sky.
A sudden cacophony ofscreams and shuffling sounds were interrupted by a harsh whistling sound,itself interrupted by an earth shaking detonation that ripped through a sectionof the bazaar adjacent to Tar.
He was violentlyslammed to the ground, vaguely aware of an image of bodies and parts of bodiesflying through the air, along with debris including blankets, pottery andvarious other items that were formerly for sale.
Ringing ears subsidedto reveal sounds of screaming, pitiful begging and moaning, shouts for help andof those offering help. As he started to get up, he glanced around franticallyfor his children. The older boy was beside him, wide eyed, grimly clutching thenow dirt stained toy sword. “KAIF!” he cried out, but his son didn’t reply.
He followed theyoungster’s intent stare over to the side, where he spotted his younger sonlaying on his side, facing away.
“EBI” Tar shouted,scrambling across bricks and other debris from the bomb to grab him and rollhim over, shouting his name. As the younger child rolled over, it becameobvious he had seen his last day, as a tent pole fragment reared up, embeddedin his small chest.
A cry of despair andgrief welled up from the soul of Tar as he realized his son was dead. Before hecould give voice to this pain he was knocked back down as another terrificexplosion rocked the ground.
As he shook his head toclear it, Tar became aware of other noises. The tearing shriek of jet fighterscompeted with the sounds of bombs bursting and machine guns blazing, leavingeven rows of spitting craters, sometimes spitting blood of the unfortunatestrapped in their path.
More screams came frompeople running back and forth, unsure of a safe direction in the noise, smokeand confusion of all out chaos.
The occasional pop poppopping of AK forty-sevens manned by the ever watchful merchants added a futilecounterpoint, spraying bullets intent but unable to harm the streaking jets.
Tar leaped to his feetand scooped up Kaif. Frantically he ran, dodging flying dirt and debris,swerving here and there to avoid obstacles, some of which were formerly livinghumans or portions of humans.
He paused and tried toget his bearings, attempting to decipher the correct place he had last seen hiswife. After a bit of confused searching, he recognized the leaning, smolderingtent canopy that had once housed the unfortunate livestock merchant with whomhis wife had been bargaining with.
With trepidation heapproached, wincing at a close explosion. He began to drag at the fallen flapsof scorched cloth, pulling at the broken tent poles and other wreckage.
To his horror heglimpsed her, covered it seemed, from head to sandal with fresh blood. Hetossed away a couple dead chickens and goats that were piled indiscriminatelyon top of her.
As he pulled herupright, her eyes fluttered open. After a momentary blank stare, she jerkedwide awake as she suddenly remembered where she was.
Tar was rapidlysearching her all over with bloody hands, trying to find the wounds, the sourceof all the blood.
She brushed him offand stood, revealing that the blood had come from the animals that by somefortunate chance had protected her by their random trajectories, having beenhurled by the blasts.
Tar again picked up hisson, and grabbing Aaima by the arm, began running for the protection of thegreat arched opening in the wall of the ancient fort. As they ran, concussionsand noise followed them.
Near the entrance, acrazed robed figure ran out of a sheltered stall, screaming and firing amachine gun at the sky. Suddenly the shelter, along with giant bricks from thewall erupted with a great bang as a missile impacted against it.
The mad gunner wasviolently tossed into the air, only to land dead amidst more wreckage. Tarveered into the relative safety of the arch only to realize Aaima wasn’t rightbehind him.
He spun around in timeto see her stagger and fall to her knees in the midst of the acrid smoke. Heran back to her, noticing her hands clasped to her stomach.
As he grabbed hershoulders, she looked up at him with an odd expression in her big brown eyes.
Lowering her hands, sherevealed a single wound, a neat round hole where a stray AK forty-seven bullethad entered, fired by the villager as he was thrown by the concussion.
As Tar suddenly noticedthe rapidly growing puddle of blood under his wife’s robes, he saw the light oflife fade away in her eyes.
As he gently loweredher to the ground, unaware of any noise or smoke, he absent-mindedly wonderedhow one person could hold that much blood.
He was shaken out ofhis morass by the clutching, pulling hands of Kaif. Looking into the smallface, he saw his own raw fear mirrored, which knocked him back into reality.
Scrambling to his feet,he regained his hold on the child and ran to safety.
After an eternity ofhellish sound and fury, which was in reality only ten minutes long, thediminishing roar of jets signaled the end of the attack.
Silence and shockreplaced fear, and moans and cries for help replaced planes and bombs.Accompanied by the crackle of fire, people were beginning to stand up and lookaround.
Their eyes beheld ajumbled mass of destruction that was not recognizable as the peaceful bazaarthat it had been only minutes before.
Tar joined the franticsearch for survivors as shock gave way to grief-filled action.
Hours later, havingtransported the bodies of his wife and young son to his abode, Tar and Kaifsettled down to bed for the night, having started the traditional arrangementsfor burial and grieving for his family.
The last hours hadbeen heavy, bearing up under the visits of caring friends and family, as wellas an exhausting interview by a nervous Army captain. Tar was sure he wouldn’tsleep, but exhaustion dragged him under almost immediately.
He awoke the nextmorning slowly, wondering why he was so stiff and sore, only to pop wide awakewith sudden