"John Ringo - Ghost 02 - Kildar" - читать интересную книгу автора (Ringo John)

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CHAPTER ONE

Night was falling and the snow getting thicker as the Mercedes skidded into the mountains, its traction
control system constantly engaging to keep it on the roughly paved road.

Mike Harmon quietly cursed himself as he considered what to do. He'd made some stupid decisions in
his life, more than one of which had been nearly fatal, but dying in theCaucasus Mountains in a blizzard
was looking more and more likely. It would be a stupid and ignominious way to go out, all things
considered.

Mike was a former SEAL who had, after leaving the teams, planned a quiet life. He'd been a student at
theUniversityofGeorgia , not particularly happy but managing it, when he'd discovered a terrorist
operation going on under his very nose. A series of choices had led him to a secret base inSyria where
kidnapped coeds were being tortured and raped on camera to force the American government to
withdraw from theMiddle East . He'd been instrumental in breaking up the operation, freeing the girls and
then holding the position until relieved by a SEAL team, after which airborne rescue forces captured the
facility and extracted the girls. In the process he had been so badly shot up he nearly died, but he held his
ground right up until passing out from blood loss.

He'd been paid a rather hefty reward for the operation and then wandered down to theFlorida Keys to
just . . . chill. With thirty mil in numbered accounts, a college degree suddenly seemed less necessary.
Instead of a vacation, while enjoying himself in the Bahamas with a couple of lovely young ladies he'd
been asked to capture a nuke that more terrorists were smuggling through that country. Again, he'd
succeeded, at least to the extent of preventing the terrorists from getting any further evenif the nuke had
been detonated in place. And, again, he'd nearly died from the wounds he suffered.

The Keys clearly being too hot for comfort, he'd wandered through Europe until in a whorehouse
inSiberia he'd picked up the scent ofanother nuke. He'd followed it back through Europe, via the
white-slave markets inBosnia , and found it planted at Notre Dame, waiting for a papal mass. When the
timer had gotten down to less than a minute and the French EOD unit was sure they'd never stop it in
time he'd taken a fifty-fifty chance and sent a code to the bomb that would either temporarily disarm it or
detonate it. He'd been lucky:Paris was still there. However, the French government was less than thrilled
by his taking the choice in his own hands and declared him, or at least his cover identity, persona non
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grata.