"William W. Johnstone - Ashes 01 - Out of the Ashes" - читать интересную книгу автора (Johnstone William W)

тАЬBold Strike.тАЭ

Then the line went dead.

Ben sat down hard in a chair. He had not heard those words in years. But what the hell did they mean?
A warning? A cue for him to do something. What in the shit had the Bull meant by them?

Ben turned on the TV set and caught the last of the nightly news. Fresh outbreaks of race riots in
Newark and Detroit. The government was worried about the resurgence of the KKK and the American
Nazi PartyтАФand the fact that they had joined hands, to jointly spew their hate. White robes and black
uniforms.

тАЬBold Strike,тАЭ Ben muttered. тАЬWhat's going on? Bull Dean is dead. And so is Carl Adams. I saw the
bodies.тАЭ

No, he corrected his thoughts. You sawa body . Someone said it was Colonel Dean. You laterтАФmuch
laterтАФsaw pictures that someonesaid was Adams.

Then the words of the news commentator numbed Ben. тАЬCertain military units have been placed on low
alert. No reason was given. But it's nothing to be concerned about, the Pentagon says. Just testing
security.тАЭ

тАЬWhat units, you son of a bitch!тАЭ Ben shouted at the TV set.

A commercial for a female hygiene spray greeted his question.

Ben turned off the set.

Something dark and elusive darted around the shadowy corners of his mind. He fixed another drink and
sat down by the phone. He jerked up the phone, consulted an address book, and dialed the number of a
friend over at Fort Stewart, Georgia. His wife answered the phone.
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тАЬNo, Ben, he's not here. No. I can't tell you where he is, тАШcauseI don't know where he is. It hasn't been
this tight around here since the Iran thing.тАЭ

They chatted of small things for a few moments, then Ben said good night. The wall of secrecy was
closing. Ben knew it well.

He tried his old outfit, the Hell-Hounds. Probably less than five percent of Congress knew of their
existence. Maybe not that high a percentage. Certainly no member of the press knew of them. In times of
trouble, they would be gearing up in Utah, at an old AEC base. The Hell-Hounds had no permanent
base, being constantly on the move. The nearest thing they had to a home was that desolate, deserted
spot in Utah.

Col. Sam Cooper, CO of the Hell-Hounds, was blunt with him. Blunt, but not unfriendly. He simply had
his orders, and that was that.