Dancing with the Dragon (2002) Read Online Free
Author: Joe - Dalton Weber, Sullivan 02
Georgetown. He had invited her to go sailing with him on Chesapeake Bay and she had graciously accepted. However, Scott left the following day for Buenos Aires, and during his unsuccessful attempt to capture an international terrorist, he misplaced Jackie's name and phone number. After returning to Washington, he went back to the restaurant on a number of occasions but never saw her again.
A year later they were miraculously reunited to work as a team to rescue one of Jackie's colleagues. Maritza Gunzelman, a "civilian" consultant like Jackie, had infiltrated a major terrorist training compound in the Bekaa Valley. The CIA, the Brits, and Mossad had been desperate to debrief her, but the terrorists had become more suspicious of Maritza by the day. She was under close surveillance and essentially trapped in the compound.
When Hartwell Prost, the president's national security adviser, brought Scott and Jackie together for a second encounter, Scott did not immediately recognize her. Finally, it had dawned on him like a load of bricks falling on his head. When they first met, her hair had been longer and she had been wearing a stunning black cocktail dress instead of a flight suit.
Scott had not been aware that she was a clandestine officer with the Defense Human Intelligence Service. Likewise she had no idea that Scott had been a former CIA agent turned troubleshooter for the White House.
After their mission in the Bekaa Valley, Jackie and Scott decided to join forces. Having worked closely with them during the dangerous operation, Hartwell Prost fully endorsed the merger. Although the proposition was inherently dangerous--they would be considered mercenaries if anything went wrong--the upside of the arrangement for Dalton and Sullivan was collecting a veritable fortune in fees. Payment for their extraordinary services was simply deposited in their account at an offshore bank.
The Agency had fully expunged their records. Except for their military jackets, every trace of their involvement with the U. S. government mysteriously vanished, including any information contained on computer hard-drives at the Agency. The Dalton & Sullivan Group maintained a nice office in Washington, had a full-time secretary, and conducted actual safety audits between sensitive assignments and special operations.
The most difficult aspect of their new role was getting used to reporting directly to Hartwell Prost.
"How was your workout?" Scott asked.
"Great." She was still trying to catch her breath after lifting weights in the fitness center and enjoying an invigorating jog around the top deck. She glanced at the silver urn on the cocktail cabinet. "Any coffee left?"
"I think so."
She reached for a cup and saucer and picked up the urn. "How about a massage later this morning?"
"Sure."
The phone rang. Jackie answered it and exchanged pleasantries with their secretary, then motioned for Scott to step inside the suite. "It's Mary Beth."
He nodded and grabbed the phone.
Jackie winked at him. "I'm going to take a quick shower."
Scott barely heard Jackie's parting words--he was already focused on Mary Beth's terrible news. He took the news calmly, asked a few questions, and said good-bye.
He stared blankly at the horizon for a minute and then placed a call to San Diego. A quick glance at his wristwatch told him it was almost 9:00 P. M. in southern California. When Tracy Bonello answered the phone, Scott's heart sank and a wave of grief swept over him. His voice cracked once, but he managed to maintain his composure.
The gut-wrenching conversation was just coming to an end when Jackie walked out of the marbled bath and approached the veranda. She saw his downcast appearance and her smile disappeared.
"Scott, are you okay?"
"I've been better."
"What's wrong?"
"Sammy Bonello was involved in a strange accident during carrier ops off the coast of southern California."
"Is he okay?"
"No, he isn't." Scott's voice caught in his throat. "He's
A year later they were miraculously reunited to work as a team to rescue one of Jackie's colleagues. Maritza Gunzelman, a "civilian" consultant like Jackie, had infiltrated a major terrorist training compound in the Bekaa Valley. The CIA, the Brits, and Mossad had been desperate to debrief her, but the terrorists had become more suspicious of Maritza by the day. She was under close surveillance and essentially trapped in the compound.
When Hartwell Prost, the president's national security adviser, brought Scott and Jackie together for a second encounter, Scott did not immediately recognize her. Finally, it had dawned on him like a load of bricks falling on his head. When they first met, her hair had been longer and she had been wearing a stunning black cocktail dress instead of a flight suit.
Scott had not been aware that she was a clandestine officer with the Defense Human Intelligence Service. Likewise she had no idea that Scott had been a former CIA agent turned troubleshooter for the White House.
After their mission in the Bekaa Valley, Jackie and Scott decided to join forces. Having worked closely with them during the dangerous operation, Hartwell Prost fully endorsed the merger. Although the proposition was inherently dangerous--they would be considered mercenaries if anything went wrong--the upside of the arrangement for Dalton and Sullivan was collecting a veritable fortune in fees. Payment for their extraordinary services was simply deposited in their account at an offshore bank.
The Agency had fully expunged their records. Except for their military jackets, every trace of their involvement with the U. S. government mysteriously vanished, including any information contained on computer hard-drives at the Agency. The Dalton & Sullivan Group maintained a nice office in Washington, had a full-time secretary, and conducted actual safety audits between sensitive assignments and special operations.
The most difficult aspect of their new role was getting used to reporting directly to Hartwell Prost.
"How was your workout?" Scott asked.
"Great." She was still trying to catch her breath after lifting weights in the fitness center and enjoying an invigorating jog around the top deck. She glanced at the silver urn on the cocktail cabinet. "Any coffee left?"
"I think so."
She reached for a cup and saucer and picked up the urn. "How about a massage later this morning?"
"Sure."
The phone rang. Jackie answered it and exchanged pleasantries with their secretary, then motioned for Scott to step inside the suite. "It's Mary Beth."
He nodded and grabbed the phone.
Jackie winked at him. "I'm going to take a quick shower."
Scott barely heard Jackie's parting words--he was already focused on Mary Beth's terrible news. He took the news calmly, asked a few questions, and said good-bye.
He stared blankly at the horizon for a minute and then placed a call to San Diego. A quick glance at his wristwatch told him it was almost 9:00 P. M. in southern California. When Tracy Bonello answered the phone, Scott's heart sank and a wave of grief swept over him. His voice cracked once, but he managed to maintain his composure.
The gut-wrenching conversation was just coming to an end when Jackie walked out of the marbled bath and approached the veranda. She saw his downcast appearance and her smile disappeared.
"Scott, are you okay?"
"I've been better."
"What's wrong?"
"Sammy Bonello was involved in a strange accident during carrier ops off the coast of southern California."
"Is he okay?"
"No, he isn't." Scott's voice caught in his throat. "He's
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