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Overview
Product Details
| ISBN-13: | 9780425220146 |
|---|---|
| Publisher: | Penguin Publishing Group |
| Publication date: | 11/04/2008 |
| Series: | Tom Clancy's Ghost Recon Series , #1 |
| Pages: | 384 |
| Sales rank: | 418,485 |
| Product dimensions: | 4.20(w) x 7.40(h) x 1.20(d) |
| Age Range: | 18 Years |
About the Author
Read an Excerpt
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Acknowledgements
Epigraph
ONE
TWO
THREE
FOUR
FIVE
SIX
SEVEN
EIGHT
NINE
TEN
ELEVEN
TWELVE
THIRTEEN
FOURTEEN
FIFTEEN
SIXTEEN
SEVENTEEN
EIGHTEEN
NINETEEN
TWENTY
TWENTY-ONE
TWENTY-TWO
TWENTY-THREE
TWENTY-FOUR
TWENTY-FIVE
TWENTY-SIX
TWENTY-SEVEN
TWENTY-EIGHT
TWENTY-NINE
THIRTY
THIRTY-ONE
THIRTY-TWO
THIRTY-THREE
THIRTY-FOUR
THIRTY-FIVE
THE BESTSELLING NOVELS OF TOM CLANCY
THE TEETH OF THE TIGER
A new generation—Jack Ryan, Jr.—takes over in Tom Clancy’s
“INCREDIBLY ADDICTIVE.” —Daily Mail (London)
RED RABBIT
Tom Clancy returns to Jack Ryan’s early days—
“A WILD, SATISFYING RIDE.” —New York Daily News
THE BEAR AND THE DRAGON
A clash of world powers. President Jack Ryan’s trial by fire.
“HEART-STOPPING ACTION . . . CLANCY STILL REIGNS.” —The Washington Post
RAINBOW SIX
John Clark is used to doing the CIA’s dirty work.
“ACTION-PACKED.” —The New York Times Book Review
EXECUTIVE ORDERS
A devastating terrorist act leaves Jack Ryan
“UNDOUBTEDLY CLANCY’S BEST YET.”
—The Atlanta Journal-Constitution
DEBT OF HONOR
It begins with the murder of an American woman
“A SHOCKER.” —Entertainment Weekly
WITHOUT REMORSE
His code name is Mr. Clark. And his work for the CIA
“HIGHLY ENTERTAINING.” —The Wall Street Journal
THE SUM OF ALL FEARS
The disappearance of an Israeli nuclear weapon threatens the
“CLANCY AT HIS BEST . . . NOT TO BE MISSED.”
—The Dallas Morning News
CLEAR AND PRESENT DANGER
The killing of three U.S. officials in Colombia ignites the
“A CRACKLING GOOD YARN.” —The Washington Post
THE CARDINAL OF THE KREMLIN
The superpowers race for the ultimate Star Wars
“CARDINAL EXCITES, ILLUMINATES . . . A REAL PAGE-TURNER.” —Los Angeles Daily News
PATRIOT GAMES
CIA analyst Jack Ryan stops an assassination—
“A HIGH PITCH OF EXCITEMENT.”
—The Wall Street Journal
RED STORM RISING
The ultimate scenario for World War III—
“THE ULTIMATE WAR GAME . . . BRILLIANT.”
—Newsweek
THE HUNT FOR RED OCTOBER
The smash bestseller that launched Clancy’s career—
“BREATHLESSLY EXCITING.” —The Washington Post
Novels by Tom Clancy
THE HUNT FOR RED OCTOBER RED STORM RISING PATRIOT GAMES THE CARDINAL OF THE KREMLIN CLEAR AND PRESENT DANGER THE SUM OF ALL FEARS WITHOUT REMORSE DEBT OF HONOR EXECUTIVE ORDERS RAINBOW SIX THE BEAR AND THE DRAGON RED RABBIT THE TEETH OF THE TIGER
SSN: STRATEGIES OF SUBMARINE WARFARE
Nonfiction
SUBMARINE: A GUIDED TOUR INSIDE A NUCLEAR WARSHIP ARMORED CAV: A GUIDED TOUR OF AN ARMORED CAVALRY REGIMENT FIGHTER WING: A GUIDED TOUR OF AN AIR FORCE COMBAT WING MARINE: A GUIDED TOUR OF A MARINE EXPEDITIONARY UNIT AIRBORNE: A GUIDED TOUR OF AN AIRBORNE TASK FORCE CARRIER: A GUIDED TOUR OF AN AIRCRAFT CARRIER SPECIAL FORCES: A GUIDED TOUR OF U.S. ARMY SPECIAL FORCES
INTO THE STORM: A STUDY IN COMMAND
TOM CLANCY’S GHOST RECON
Created by Tom Clancy
TOM CLANCY’S ENDWAR
TOM CLANCY’S SPLINTER CELL
SPLINTER CELL OPERATION BARRACUDA CHECK M ATE
Created by Tom Clancy and Steve Pieczenik
TOM CLANCY’S OP-CENTER
OP-CENTER MIRROR IMAGE GAMES OF STATE ACTS OF WAR BALANCE OF POWER STATE OF SIEGE DIVIDE AND CONQUER LINE OF CONTROL MISSION OF HONOR SEA OF FIRE CALL TO TREASON WAR OF EAGLES
TOM CLANCY’S NET FORCE
NET FORCE HIDDEN AGENDAS NIGHT MOVES BREAKING POINT POINT OF IMPACT CYBER NATION STATE OF WAR CHANGING OF THE GUARD SPRINGBOARD THE ARCHIMEDES EFFECT
Created by Tom Clancy and Martin Greenberg
TOM CLANCY’S POWER PLAYS
POLITIKA RUTHLESS.COM SHADOW WATCH BIO-STRIKE COLD WAR CUTTING EDGE ZERO HOUR WILD CARD
THE BERKLEY PUBLISHING GROUPPublished by the Penguin GroupPenguin Group (USA) Inc.375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014, USA Penguin Group (Canada), 90 Eglinton Avenue East, Suite 700, Toronto, Ontario M4P 2Y3, Canada (a division of Pearson Penguin Canada Inc.) Penguin Books Ltd., 80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England Penguin Group Ireland, 25 St. Stephen’s Green, Dublin 2, Ireland (a division of Penguin Books Ltd.) Penguin Group (Australia), 250 Camberwell Road, Camberwell, Victoria 3124, Australia (a division of Pearson Australia Group Pty. Ltd.) Penguin Books India Pvt. Ltd., 11 Community Centre, Panchsheel Park, New Delhi—110 017, India Penguin Group (NZ), 67 Apollo Drive, Rosedale, North Shore 0632, New Zealand (a division of Pearson New Zealand Ltd.) Penguin Books (South Africa) (Pty.) Ltd., 24 Sturdee Avenue, Rosebank, Johannesburg 2196, South Africa
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.
TOM CLANCY’S GHOST RECON™
A Berkley Book / published by arrangement with Rubicon, Inc.
PRINTING HISTORY Berkley premium edition / November 2008
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Purchase only authorized editions.
For information, address: The Berkley Publishing Group,
eISBN : 978-1-101-00376-3
BERKLEY®
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
The author would like to thank the following individuals whose technical advice and support made this book possible:
Mr. Tom Clancy
Mr. David Shanks
Mr. Tom Colgan
Mr. Michael Ovitz
Mr. Chris George
Ms. Sandra Harding
Mr. Robert Lang
Mr. James Ide, chief warrant officer, U.S. Navy (Ret.)
Major Mark Aitken, U.S. Army
Mr. Randy McElwee, master sergeant, U.S. Army (Ret.)
Major William R. Reeves, U.S. Army
Major Craig Walker, U.S. Air Force
Mr. Jean-Louis “Dutch” DeGay, Natick Soldier RDEC, U.S. Army
Mrs. Carole McDaniel (carole.mcdanieldesign.com)
William and Belinda Telep
From Blackhawk Products Group:
Mr. Mike Noel, U.S. Navy SEAL (Ret.)
Mr. Tom O’Sullivan, U.S. Army (Ret.)
Mr. Michael Janich, U.S. Army (Ret.)
Mr. Steve Matulewicz, command master chief, U.S. Navy SEAL (Ret.)
Mr. Brent Beshara, Canadian Special Forces (Ret.)
From Ubisoft:
Mr. Yves Guillemot
Mr. Gérard Guillemot
Mr. Serge Hascoet
Mr. Alexis Nolent
Mr. Olivier Henriot
Mr. Richard Dansky
Mr. Oliver Green
Mr. Cedrick Delmas
Mr. Terence Mosca
Mr. Eric Moutardier
Mr. Thomas Leroux-Hugon
Mr. Joshua Meyer
The Ubisoft Legal Department
I had rather have a plain, russet-coated captain that knows what he fights for, and loves what he knows, than that which you call a gentleman and is nothing else.
—Oliver Cromwell
—Sun Tzu
—Colonel Qiao Liang and Colonel Wang Xiangsui, Unrestricted Warfare
PERSONNEL LIST
Ghosts
Operation War Wraith
Alpha Team
Captain Scott Mitchell
Master Sergeant Jose “Joe” Ramirez
Sergeant First Class Paul Smith
Sergeant First Class Alex Nolan
Bravo Team
Master Sergeant Matt Beasley
Sergeant First Class Bo Jenkins
Staff Sergeant John Hume
Sergeant Marcus Brown
Charlie Team
Sergeant Alicia Diaz
Ghost Command
Lieutenant Colonel Harold “Buzz” Gordon
Major Susan Grey, D CO. 1st BN. 5th SFG
General Joshua Keating, Commander of USSOCOM
Dr. Gail Gorbatova, Defense Intelligence Agency (DIA)
Spring Tigers
Operation Pouncing Dragon
Major-General Chen Yi (Target Alpha)
Colonel Xu Dingfa (Target Bravo)
Vice Admiral Cai Ming (Target Charlie)
Major-General Wu Hui (Target Delta)
Deputy Director Wang Ya, CMC Political Department
Captain Fang Zhi
USSMontanaControl Team
Commanding Officer Captain Kenneth Gummerson
Lieutenant Commander Sands, Executive Officer
Master Chief Suallo, Chief of the Boat
SEAL Chief Tanner
SEAL Chief Phillips
Lieutenant Jeff Moch, Predator Support
Lieutenant Justin Schumaker, Predator Support
ONE
BASILAN ISLAND
Master Sergeant Scott Mitchell blinked at the sweat in his eyes and pushed on through the rubber plants, their leathery leaves brushing against his boonie hat and cheek. Ahead lay a slight clearing in the otherwise dense, twilit jungle, and Mitchell used his M4A1’s barrel to lift a thin branch as he hunkered down at the edge.
Captain Victor Foyte, his detachment commander, moved ahead beside an uneven stretch of wilting palm fronds still dripping from a storm that had rolled in several hours ago. “Ricochet, this is Road Warrior 06,” the captain whispered into his radio. “Think I see something. And I hear some buzzing, like flies. Let’s check it out, over.”
“Right with you, Boss,” answered Mitchell.
Although Foyte outranked him, Mitchell was the team sergeant, responsible for fighting all twelve members of Operational Detachment Alpha (ODA) 574. The captain and warrant officer coordinated with the twelve-man Filipino and Taiwanese teams they’d been cross-training with for the past two weeks.
Mitchell started forward as up to his right a snake coiled around an overhanging limb, its tongue fluttering. Special Forces operators ate bad guys for breakfast and snakes for supper; consequently, they weren’t unnerved by either. Nevertheless, Mitchell grimaced and got out of there to join the captain.
Barely three steps later, a whoosh of musty air, a rustle of leaves, and the sharp crack of a rope sent lightning bolts through his gut. He looked up and gasped.
The captain had been moving toward a pole stuck in the ground. Atop that pole was a human head with long, brown hair flowing around it.
A twenty-one-year-old American missionary had recently been captured by Abu Sayyaf, the local pseudo-Islamist terrorist group affiliated with al Qaeda. Military and police forces had been combing the island, looking for her and for Abu Sayyaf’s stronghold, hidden somewhere deep in the mountainous interior.
It seemed the captain had found the missing woman—and much more. A rope had snapped taut around one of his ankles, and now he was being hurled three meters into the air, screaming, “Ambush!”
Mitchell was about to get on the radio when the captain swung forward, a human pendulum heading straight for a tree impaled by rows of razor-sharp punji stakes now revealed as fronds strung up by more ropes fell away—all part of the carefully designed booby trap.
Captain Victor Foyte was only twenty-four years old, and in the next breath he slammed back-first into the punji stakes, the foot-long pieces of sharpened wood driving into his arms, neck, and torso.
The team had been operating light, forgoing body armor in the rainy, hundred-plus-degree jungle. Foyte shrieked and gurgled as the stakes grew slick with his blood.
Chief Warrant Officer 02 James Alvarado, who’d been positioned about a dozen meters behind them, burst forward crying, “Captain!” Alvarado cut loose multiple rounds below the tree where Foyte now hung, inverted and bleeding to death.
Again, Mitchell keyed his mike, ready to issue orders, but Alvarado’s gunfire cut him off.
This was Mitchell’s first live mission as a Special Forces operator. He was an experienced infantryman and team leader from an Opposing Force (OPFOR) recon unit at Fort Irwin. He already had an impressive résumé and was hoping to make a name for himself in the Special Forces community—yet in a flash, he’d already lost his first CO.
A strange thumping noise sounded as Alvarado ceased fire and advanced into the clearing. The warrant suddenly clutched his neck, where a tiny dart extended from between his fingers. He screamed as he tugged it out.
Mitchell dropped onto his gut as more thumping sounded behind them. Alvarado wobbled forward then crumpled to the ground, poisoned and probably dead.
The team was, it seemed, being attacked by loinclothed savages whose traps and blowguns had ironically overpowered the men with their thunder sticks.
“Mitchell?” called the captain, his voice burred by the agony, his face now drenched in blood. “Mitch . . . ell?”
Unable to stare at Foyte any longer, Mitchell finally got on the radio. “This is Ricochet. Ambush! Ambush! The captain and warrant are down!”
Before he could continue, the terrorists somewhere out there, crouching in the wet foliage, revealed they were not the loinclothed savages of Mitchell’s imagination but were, in fact, ruthless and modern killers.
So much automatic weapons fire blasted through the clearing that it sounded as though a thousand men with machetes were cutting apart the trees and fronds. Rounds from AK-47s and machine guns popped and boomed, wood splintered, and birds squawked and flew off as holes appeared in the leaves, the debris tumbling down on Mitchell as he rose to his elbows and spied his first pair of muzzle flashes.
At the same time, voices erupted over the radio:
“Ricochet, this is Rumblefish,” called the team’s weapons sergeant, Jim Idaho. “We’re taking fire from both flanks! Can’t get any shots from here! Need orders!”
“Ricochet, this is Red Cross. Got two men down,” reported Lance Munson, the team’s senior medic. “I need to evac these guys now!”
“Ricochet, I think we got incoming mortar—”
That last voice belonged to Rapper, one of the team’s engineers, who was cut off as a flash lit up the jungle just northeast of Mitchell’s position. A second later, the ground trembled, and a powerful explosion boomed across the landscape as showers of shrapnel and debris needled through the zone.
These terrorists were reckless, stupid, or insane, perhaps all three. They were laying down mortar fire on their own position. They didn’t care how many of their own they took out, so long as they killed the Americans.
Willing himself not to panic, reminding himself of who he was and the countless hours of training he had gone through, Master Sergeant Scott Mitchell, twenty-six, took command of the ODA team. “This is Ricochet! Listen up! Rumblefish? You and the rest of Bravo Team get to those wounded men and fall back south to our first waypoint. Rutang, Rockstar, and Rino, regroup on me. Move out!”
The team had been operating as two six-man units: Alpha and Bravo, with all radio call signs beginning with the letter R. Mitchell would exploit their division in order to provide cover for evacuating the wounded.
Another whistle rose in the night, this time closer, and suddenly the next mortar exploded, gray smoke and more shrapnel hurtling up through the canopy.
“Ricochet, this is Rutang,” called the team’s assistant medical sergeant, Thomas “Rutang” McDaniel. “Me and Rockstar are good to go, but Rino is gone, man. Hit by that last mortar. No pulse!”
There wasn’t time to tally up the dead. All Mitchell knew was that he needed support—ground, air, anything—and he needed it now. He acknowledged Rutang’s call, then switched frequencies, calling up Captain Fang Zhi’s Taiwanese team. They were much closer than the Filipino team and were working the grid on the other side of the creek. “Wushu 06, this is Ricochet, over.”
He waited, listened to the sound of his own breathing, the withering gunfire booming somewhere nearby, the shrill hiss of yet another mortar round, falling, falling . . .
“Wushu 06, this is Ricochet, over.”
Mitchell switched frequencies once more to call upon the Filipino Team. “Black Tiger 06, this is Ricochet, over.”
Boom! That distant mortar finally detonated.
“Ricochet, this is Black Tiger 06. I’ve heard what’s happening. We’re moving to your location, but we’re still pretty far. ETA about twenty minutes, over.”
“Roger that, Black Tiger. I have a lot of men down. Need you ASAP.” Mitchell fed the captain his current GPS coordinates, then added, “Don’t be late.”
“We are running, Sergeant.”
“Good! Ricochet, out.”
Captain Gilberto Yano, aka Black Tiger 06, was a member of the Philippine Army’s elite Light Reaction Battalion (LRB), the Delta Force of their army and specifically trained in counterterrorist activities. Yano was well-liked by his men and the rest of Mitchell’s team. Knowing Yano and his boys were already on the way felt good, but it was going to be the longest twenty minutes of Mitchell’s life.
And quite possibly the last.
Again, where the hell was Captain Fang Zhi? Mitchell called once more. No answer. Was he back in one of the nepa huts, smoking a cigar, while men died out here in the jungle?
Rutang and Rockstar hustled up and dropped down beside Mitchell.
Rutang was a baby-faced assistant medic and competitive video game player. He’d even entered and won several national tournaments, though he rarely bragged and was, for the most, curiously insecure about himself and his skills.
(Continues…)
Excerpted from "Tom Clancy's Ghost Recon"
by .
Copyright © 2008 David Michaels.
Excerpted by permission of Penguin Publishing Group.
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