Necessary Retribution
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Authors: Mike McNeff
Copyright 2013 Mike McNeff
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Cover Design by Greg Simanson
Edited by Hanna Barnes
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to similarly named places or to persons living or deceased is unintentional.
PRINT ISBN 978-1-62015-143-3
EPUB ISBN 978-1-62015-239-3
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Library of Congress Control Number: 2013940459
For Dad – Maj. Gen. Edward McNeff USAF (Ret.). Fighter pilot, father, grandfather and the man who helped me fight off the ravages of polio and kept me from being crippled.
CONTENTS
MORE GREAT READS FROM BOOKTROPE
A
CKNOWLEDGMENTS
This is my second book and because I've learned much more about writing, it was harder to write than GOTU, my first book. Through Booktrope Editions, my publisher, I have a team to help me. My content editor, Hanna Barnes, challenges me, keeps the story in line and makes me write more clearly for the reader. Cathy Shaw, my copy editor, makes sure the grammar, punctation and work usage are correct and the story makes sense. Emily Duncan is my book manager and besides working on the marketing end of things, coordinates the team on the production of my books. Greg Simanson produced the cover. There are others from Booktrope working behind the scenes to get the book out. My fellow writers on Whidbey Island are always a source of encouragement and constructive criticism. And my wife Linda, who puts up with me spending long hours in my office and going to writers groups, I love you.
P
ROLOGUE
CHIU HUANG,
a Chinese intelligence agent, watched as James Chapple beached his small fishing boat at the campground on the north end of Lake Eaton in the Adirondacks. The Special Assistant to the Director of the Central Intelligence Agency owned a vacation home on the south end of the lake. He climbed out of the boat and walked to the parking area of the campground, which was deserted on this late fall day.
Chapple opened the passenger door to Huang's Jeep Cherokee and got in.
“Good afternoon, Chiu.”
“Good afternoon, James. I trust you are well.”
“I am, thank you.” Chapple handed Huang an 8x10 manila envelope. “Here's the latest brief on the CIA's intelligence on your country. I think you'll find it particularly interesting that there is still a squadron of nuclear capable US Air Force F-16 jet fighters at Hualien in Taiwan.”
A jolt went through Huang. “Excellent, we have suspected your military did not totally pull out of Taiwan. That is valuable information.” He handed Chapple an envelope containing five thousand dollars in cash.
“Thank you. Are we making any headway on my appointment to Director of the CIA?”
“We are applying pressure on certain members of congress and the administration. We have to proceed carefully, so it will take a little time, but we will be successful.”
“I know, it's just that I will be more valuable when I get into that
position. There are things that the Director of Operations is doing I'm not privy to.”
Huang's face tightened. “Yes, Mr. Yates and his subordinate, Mr. Grassley are particularly dangerous. When you are Director, we expect your first act will be to dismiss those two.”
“Don't worry. I can't stand them. They act like I'm not even there.”
Huang looked away for a moment and then turned back to Chapple. “Our friends in Iraq want to know what the president might do if they decide to take military action in their region.”
“I'm sure that would depend on what the action would be.”
“Well, see if you can determine the response to different alternatives.”
“I really don't think this president is as hawkish as his predecessor and probably won't do anything as long as we are not talking about Saudi Arabia, but I'll find out.”
“Good. Well, until next time, James.”
“Uh, well, yes. I'll see you later.”
As Huang watched Chapple leave, he thought about Yates and Grassley.
Those two are indeed dangerous. They are doing things we need to find out about and stop. Especially, if Hussein invades Kuwait. Such a move could cause problems…and opportunities. Now that we have confirmation the US military is still active in Hualien, we can start working toward creating an international incident that will allow us to attack Taiwan.
Huang started his engine and drove out of the campground.
O
NE
CAPTAIN JOHN SORELS SAT BACK
in the shadows of a second story room, watching a house across the street. He never thought he would be tasked to evaluate another team on a real time mission, especially on the western outskirts of the Gaza Strip. A US Army psychiatrist from Fort Lewis, Washington, was a hostage in the house. She had come to Israel on her own time to treat Israeli and Palestinian citizens suffering from Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. Hamas rewarded her compassion with a kidnapping.
The US insisted they would find and rescue her and Sorels’ Delta team was tasked with the mission…with a wrinkle. A new team, a supposed top secret direct action team, would do the mission. Sorels had been told the new team did well in training, but he was to determine if they were ready to be on their own in the real world. The brass chose him because he knew nothing about the new team. They wanted an impartial opinion.
Sorels raised his binoculars. His jaws clenched.
Final exam time, my friend. I hope it isn't final for you.
In the glow cast from windows and a few door lights, the old man in the donkey cart moved slowly down the narrow, rock strewn, dirt street. The cart, full of old pots, pans and other odds and ends, banged and rattled the ancient song of the tinker. The old one's
long beard, streaked with grey and stained from tobacco juice, swayed back and forth as the stiff wooden wheels rolled over stone and rut. A turban covering his long grey hair, sat askew on his head.
Three young men standing in the doorway of the third house from the corner looked at the old man with narrowing eyes and sneers on their faces. Their heads were wrapped in checkered wool scarves and they wore military style pants and boots like most men from Hamas. Each loosely held an AK-47 automatic rifle in his hands. The few people on the street walked on the other side from the where the three men stood…out of both respect and fear.
As the old one came abreast of the three men, one of them spat an insult towards him. The old man replied with the flash of two rounds from the muzzle of a silenced HK MP5 submachine gun into the chest of the surprised terrorist. The muzzle swung left and sent two rounds into the next fighter. The third man brought his rifle up to shoot the old one, but a large black man appeared from the alley between the mud brick houses and terminated the threat with a quick burst from his silenced submachine gun and the Hamas terrorist plowed head first into the graveled dirt. Two other figures ghosted in behind the black man.