Hammer of Angels: A Novel of Shadowstorm Read Online Free Page B

sheboomigans in German territory last year featured all this and more, but our ambassador in Berlin kept it quiet by distracting the local politicos and mediarazzi with buffets of all-you-can-hump professional virgins. However, nothing could suppress the story of fifty kids in a German Youth troop getting blown up by a U.S. Navy cruise missile.
    The cruise missile eliminated the global threat posed by the Darius Covenant and the Blades of Persia. It also supposedly killed the Blades leader, Imad Badr, aka Winter. This didn’t happen because I snuck in with the ill-fated German Youth troop and snatched Winter only moments before blam time. We timed all this to give the German Youth troop plenty of time to make it out of there before the missile arrived.
    But they didn’t.
    Oops
.
    The German press lit up like wildfire. When the forensics came back “Made in U.S.A.,” everyone from Herr Chancellor to Herr Six-Pack called for American heads to roll. This royally screwed things up.
    To protect our corruption case against Jakob Fredericks, Winter’s non-deadness has to be kept strictly between ExOps and our CIA controllers. He’s the one person who can prove Fredericks purposely sent my father into a trap. But Winter is as good as dead if ol’ Jakob finds out about him.
    So Cyrus didn’t file any paperwork about my mission to snatch Winter, nor did he tell the White House about it. This means only a couple of people at the Department of Justice know we’re sitting on a star witness who can stick Director Fredericks in front of a firing squad.
    It also means President Jackson got blindsided when German Chancellor Honecker blusteringly declared that he wants Greater Germany to dump the U.S. and join the Pan-Asian Pact. Now America is staring down the barrel of everyone’s recurring Shadowstorm nightmare, where three major powers team up and gang-rape the fourth one.
    The U.S.
must
have an ally, and it won’t be Russia or China. Those creeps are still pissed about our presence in Japan and Korea. Our relationship with Greater Germany is crucial, and the mission to rescue it is being directed by Washington’s top strategist: SSC Director Jakob Fredericks. The fucker is considered so indispensable right now we can’t even bust the bastard for treason. So “until this thing with Germany gets sorted out,” we’ve stashed Imad Badr in a D.C. safe house. Hopefully, given some time, nobody will ask how in hell we got our hands on such a hot potato.
    Meanwhile, I’m still in the doghouse. Cyrus’s burning glower persists in melting the glass in his window.
    Brando hesitantly says, “Sir, Scarlet and I may have uncovered something else.”
    Cyrus sighs. “Let’s hear it.”
    My partner takes a big breath. “Director Fredericks’s career has a unique pattern. He’s made great contributions but has not been commensurately rewarded.”
    Cyrus, still scowling, says, “Go on.”
    â€œHe’s intelligent and experienced enough to direct a substantially larger office than the Strategic Services Council. Something like CIA, NSA, perhaps even the State Department,” Brando clears his throat. “However, he’s been kept from higher posts by his … uhh … lack of social skills.”
    Cyrus snorts but says nothing.
    â€œAlso,” my partner adds, “his resentment toward his superiors is well documented.”
    â€œHim and half of Washington.”
    â€œYes, sir, but consider the way Director Fredericks handled the ExOps security breach eight years ago. He knew there were three competitive agents inside ExOps—Virgo, Libra, and Scorpio—who—”
    â€œYes, Darwin. I remember,” Cyrus says testily. “I lost a lot of good friends from the Russian Section, and Langley nearly shut us down. Make your point.”
    â€œSorry, sir.” Patrick clears his throat again.