Threat Vector by Tom Clancy EPUB & PDF – eBook Details Online
- Status: Available for Free Download
- Authors: Tom Clancy
- Language: English
- Genre: War Fiction
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- Size: 2 MB
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The five Americans had been lying low in the decrepit hotel room for hours,
waiting for nightfall.
Sheets of warm rain rapped on the window, generating the majority of the
sound in the dim room, as there was little talk among the men. This room had
served as the base of operations for the team, though four of the five had
stayed at other hotels throughout the city during their weeklong stay. Now
that preparations were complete, those four had checked out of their quarters
and consolidated their gear and themselves here with the fifth man in their
group.
Though they all were still as stones now, they had been a blur of activity
over the past week. They had surveilled targets; developed op plans;
established covers; memorized their primary, secondary, and tertiary
exfiltration routes; and coordinated the logistics of the mission to come.
But preparations were now complete, and there was nothing left to do but
sit and wait for darkness.
A rumble of thunder rolled in from the south, a lightning strike far out in
the Sea of Marmara illuminated the five statues in the room for an instant,
and then the darkness covered them once again.
This hotel was situated in the Sultanahmet district of Istanbul, and it was
chosen as the team safe house due to the courtyard parking for their vehicles
and the fact that it was more or less equidistant to where the operations would
be carried out later in the evening. The hotel was not, however, chosen for the
vinyl bedspreads or the grimy hallways or the surly staff or the stench of pot
smoke that wafted up from the youth hostel on the ground floor.
But the Americans did not complain about their accommodations; they
thought only of their tasks ahead.
At seven p.m. the leader of the cell looked down to the chronograph on
his wrist; it was fastened over bandaging that covered his entire hand and a
portion of his forearm. As he stood up from a wooden chair, he said, “We’ll
head out one at a time. Five-minute separation.”
The others—two seated on a bed speckled with rat shit, one leaning
against the wall by the door, and one more standing by the window—all
nodded.
The leader continued. “I sure as hell do not like splitting up the op like
this. This is not how we do business. But frankly . . . circumstances dictate
our actions. If we don’t do these mutts damn near simultaneously, word will
get out and the roaches will scatter in the light.”
The others listened without responding. They’d been over this a dozen
times in the past week. They knew the difficulties, they knew the risks, and
they knew their leader’s reservations.
Their leader’s name was John Clark; he’d been doing this sort of thing
since before the youngest of the men on his team had been born, so his words
carried weight.
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