A black market Russian nuke. Religious extremists who must conquer at any cost. An alienated loner with a deathwish. An Israeli city. These ingedients comprise a recipe that terrifies US intelligence. How can suicidal killer Bassam Amin be stopped before the Israelis take action...without...
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A black market Russian nuke. Religious extremists who must conquer at any cost. An alienated loner with a deathwish. An Israeli city. These ingedients comprise a recipe that terrifies US intelligence. How can suicidal killer Bassam Amin be stopped before the Israelis take action...without assistance from the US military; without fracturing the Coalition Against Terror; and without triggering global jihad? Enter retired commando Dwight "Rocco" Cavarra and a handful of other alpha-male SpecOps veterans who have never worked together. Within days of assembling, they must plow through an African civil war; infiltrate a heavily defended desert fortress; wrestle the WMD away from Amin and his fellow sociopaths while surrounded and outnumbered by desperate proportions; then waltz out of harm's way undetected by local warlords or the genocidal government. No problem--hooyah! But how should Rocco's Retreads handle the hard-charging Mossad agents Israel dropped in the hornets' nest to help the mission along...or was it to frag Cavarra and take over the operation themselves? Only a maniac would volunteer for such an ate-up mission. Only a monster would use an A-bomb for terror. Both maniacs and monsters are on a collision course which could blow the world to hell and gone.
Bassam Amin: A 15 year-old Palastinian orphan, raised in the camps by the PLO. He knows the fat, rich Jews must be pushed into the sea, but his raging hormones are a stronger influence than the teaching of the holy men, right now.He's never known anything but hunger and cruelty. Sure, he'll martyr himself in jihad, if it guarantees him full-bosomed virgins in paradise. But he'll be an unstoppable kamikaze if Khaled Ali lets him sample some full bosoms now, in this life.
Dwight "Rocco" Cavarra: Once a maverick SEAL team skipper, he now owns and operates a tactical shooting school, and sells ammunition and paramilitary equipment to suplement his income. He keeps in shape, dives and swims regularly, as well as maintaining fluency in his languages (Arabic, Hebrew and Italian), because he nurses a fantasy of going back into action again. Since the attack on the Twin Towers, that fantasy doesn't seem so farfetched. A no-BS commander who leads from the front. He gives his men room for initiative, is willing to entertain their ideas when the mission permits, but holds them accountable for bad decisions. Handling a dozen pseudo-mercenaries with no support structure is a new challenge for him, but he's just the masochist...er, man for the job.
Ehud Siyr: An African mercenary who is more than meets the eye. His chameleon-like ability to blend into his social environment allows him to sneak away and back again almost unnoticed. Almost. His merc resume reads like a tour guide of African and Middle Eastern trouble spots. And he handles himself like an old pro in a firefight. Still, one can't help wondering where his true loyalties lie.
Charles Mai: A Force Recon marine/Gulf War veteran who climbed as high as Gunnery Sergeant before his bigotry and brutality went too far, costing him his career. An experienced brawler who is ready to raise hell anytime, anywhere, for any reason (or no reason at all, for that matter). Mai has never met a man he doesn't hate. This served him well for many years, but hasn't helped him adjust to "the world." He volunteered for this mission because he has nowhere else to go; but that won't stop him from burning bridges behind him, even now.
Tommy Scarred Wolf: A highly decorated Special Forces Operator who lived up to his warrior heritage before and during Desert Storm, but returned to the reservation after the debacle in Somalia. He built a life, and a family, but is haunted in his dreams...especially since 9/11 and all the white man's talk of war. The Special Forces taught him to speak Arabic, train armies, survive and bring smoke in any environment. This former Sneaky Pete is a weapons expert, a tactical savant, and a juggernaut in a firefight. To Tommy Scared Wolf, counting coup is not just some arcane practice of 19th Century plains tribes.
Yacov Dreizil: An agent of the Mossad sent into Sudan to support Israel's deep cover agent in-country. Dreizil ammassed an exemplary record in the IDF Airborne and the Sayeret Matkal ("Israeli Commandos" to the outside world). He has access to far too much scary information to be as waggish as the average Israeli. His mission cannot fail. It will not. Dreizil has read files on Cavarra and every member of his unit. He doesn't trust them. American commitment to any objective lasts only as long as their MTV/microwave dinner/pay-at-the-pump attention spans will permit...and until their fickle, convoluted emotions pull them in a different direction. If his man inside the team can't pull off this miracle single-handed, Dreizil isn't afraid to get his own hands dirty.
“Dreizil: "You've heard of Masada?"Cavarra: "Yeah. I watched the miniseries."”
“Hendricks: "You said 'doom,' not 'damn'."Cavarra: "I'm impressed by your attention to detail. Want me to draw you a happy face?"”
“Cavarra unsheathed his black anodized Trench Master and pointed with it at the model tents in the sand table. "This is our target: a terrorist training camp in the Nubian Desert." He shifted the full tang fighting knife from the sand table to point at the map. "It's located in the Hala'ib Triangle--a demilitarized zone that Egypt and Sudan don't completely agree on the ownership of. In other words, both countries can deny knowledge of, and responsibility for, what comes out of there." The knife pointed back to the sand table. "Somewhere in this camp is a tactical atomic weapon small enough to fit in a briefcase, a knapsack, book bag, laptop case or even a large purse."Cavarra paused. Twelve pairs of eyes looked from him to the pilots, to the sand table, and back to him."That's the bomb we're supposed to intercept," he said. "So not only is it likely that some of us won't come out of this alive, it's possible that none of us will. That there won't even be enough of us left to bury."Mai exploded. "You weren't gonna bother telling us about this?""I'm telling you now. And you can quit now."Mai looked around at the others, hoping to see the same outrage he felt.Some mouths hung open, many eyes widened. A couple men stared keenly at Cavarra, but otherwise looked blank."That's just brilliant," Mai said. "How the hell do we get out of here now?"Cavarra nodded toward Jenkins. "You can stay on the bird after we deploy. Captain Jenkins will be heading from the target directly to a friendly airstrip.""What airstrip?""Don't worry about what airstrip," Jenkins said."What if we get shot down?""Then I guess we crash," Jenkins replied.”
Ate up like a soup sandwich: Sloppy; poorly planned and/or executed. Usually referring to an operation, mission, or event. "That whole Somalian fiasco was ate-up like a soup sandwhich."
Ate up like a football bat: Usually refers to an individual who is hopelessly stupid or confused in a given situation, and has everything bass-ackwards. "Did you see Dumb and Dumber? That Jim Carey is ate-up like a football bat!"
BUDS: Basic Underwater Demolition and SEAL training.
Bumfuq, Egypt: A remote, isolated location with nothing of value. Rarely is it actually in Egypt, or even on the African continent. Often abbriviated as "BFE." "The middle of Nowhere." Similar to "Timbuktu," "Yogi Bear 7" or "East Judas." Adjective form is usually "Podunk."
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