Morvicti Blood (A Morvicti Novel Book 1) Read Online Free Page B
Author: Lee Swift
older brother.
Now they shared an unbreakable bond.
Davis gave the signal: “so far so good.”
He nodded, knowing they’d only crossed the first of several obstacles in tonight’s mission.
The two CIA officers assigned to this joint covert mission were already in position near the targeted building, waiting for the remainder of the team to arrive.
Out of his peripheral vision he could see his team. With only their heads above the still surface, they were nearly invisible. The five-mile swim from Warbah Island hadn’t fazed them one bit. They were the best. Men he could trust. Men he could always rely on. Men he knew would sacrifice their lives if necessary in the line of duty. They were Navy SEALs.
Just twenty-four hours earlier, Hussein’s operatives had crossed the border, captured a senator’s nephew and scurried back into Iraq. Intel from local assets had identified the time as midnight for the nephew, Eric Shaw, to be transported to Baghdad.
Davis pointed to the solider on the dock and made a motion like he was taking a last drag on an invisible cigarette before tossing it away, as if to relay the fact that the enemy was just about done with his smoke break.
He looked up and saw the Iraqi throw his butt into the water and then turn around and walk out of sight. Austin motioned to Davis, silently communicating, “That’s one lucky guy, Chief.” If the soldier hadn’t left, he would have had to be taken out. One less hurdle to deal with.
He recalled the mission’s earlier briefing.
“I’m afraid there will be numerous hurdles on this one, gentlemen,” the lieutenant had stated flatly to the team.
Treading water, Austin recalled how formal Davis sounded at times compared to most officers.
Davis gave the signal for everyone to hold position.
Austin knew the lieutenant was just making sure the Marlboro Man wasn’t coming back. He motioned Davis’s message to Remington. His buddy nodded and silently passed on the same signal to the others.
Remington, whom he called “Professor,” had served with him since basic. They’d started out as fierce competitors, always trying to best each other. During the fitness qualifying test Remington completed the 500-yard swim in 7 minutes 44 seconds. Austin had edged him out by 3 seconds. Though the competitive drive remained, they were tight as any two men could be. Remington was a good friend he could always count on.
Austin hadn’t even considered trying for the SEALs, but Remington convinced him to go for it. Remarkably, they’d both made the cut. Next month his buddy would take the Chief test. He would pass it, no doubt about it, and would be assigned to a new team.
Austin stared at the dock right in front of him. This wasn’t the first time he and Remington had been in Iraq together, and he was pretty certain it would not be the last for either of them.
His men took their positions up and down the dockyards, out of view from any onlookers that might appear. Davis’s team was chosen because when the odds were razor thin, their records of success in these types of missions were unsurpassed. Pride swelled in Austin’s chest. As dangerous as this op with the CIA was, he would make sure all of them would come out alive. That was his job. That was what he must do.
The call to sunset prayer rang out from a nearby mosque.
Davis held up his hand and then lowered it.
Go time.
Austin gave the signal to move, and the entire team crawled onto the barren dock, which only a few weeks ago would have been bustling with workers.
Making it to the target location came without a hitch. The building’s roof was destroyed in an earlier bombing, not from U.S. forces but from Saddam’s Republican Guard. The dictator had no qualms killing his own people when it suited him.
On plan, he, Remington, and the lieutenant entered the building from the rear, while the others rushed in through the front.
Three Iraqi soldiers stood to the left of Eric Shaw, who was tied to
Now they shared an unbreakable bond.
Davis gave the signal: “so far so good.”
He nodded, knowing they’d only crossed the first of several obstacles in tonight’s mission.
The two CIA officers assigned to this joint covert mission were already in position near the targeted building, waiting for the remainder of the team to arrive.
Out of his peripheral vision he could see his team. With only their heads above the still surface, they were nearly invisible. The five-mile swim from Warbah Island hadn’t fazed them one bit. They were the best. Men he could trust. Men he could always rely on. Men he knew would sacrifice their lives if necessary in the line of duty. They were Navy SEALs.
Just twenty-four hours earlier, Hussein’s operatives had crossed the border, captured a senator’s nephew and scurried back into Iraq. Intel from local assets had identified the time as midnight for the nephew, Eric Shaw, to be transported to Baghdad.
Davis pointed to the solider on the dock and made a motion like he was taking a last drag on an invisible cigarette before tossing it away, as if to relay the fact that the enemy was just about done with his smoke break.
He looked up and saw the Iraqi throw his butt into the water and then turn around and walk out of sight. Austin motioned to Davis, silently communicating, “That’s one lucky guy, Chief.” If the soldier hadn’t left, he would have had to be taken out. One less hurdle to deal with.
He recalled the mission’s earlier briefing.
“I’m afraid there will be numerous hurdles on this one, gentlemen,” the lieutenant had stated flatly to the team.
Treading water, Austin recalled how formal Davis sounded at times compared to most officers.
Davis gave the signal for everyone to hold position.
Austin knew the lieutenant was just making sure the Marlboro Man wasn’t coming back. He motioned Davis’s message to Remington. His buddy nodded and silently passed on the same signal to the others.
Remington, whom he called “Professor,” had served with him since basic. They’d started out as fierce competitors, always trying to best each other. During the fitness qualifying test Remington completed the 500-yard swim in 7 minutes 44 seconds. Austin had edged him out by 3 seconds. Though the competitive drive remained, they were tight as any two men could be. Remington was a good friend he could always count on.
Austin hadn’t even considered trying for the SEALs, but Remington convinced him to go for it. Remarkably, they’d both made the cut. Next month his buddy would take the Chief test. He would pass it, no doubt about it, and would be assigned to a new team.
Austin stared at the dock right in front of him. This wasn’t the first time he and Remington had been in Iraq together, and he was pretty certain it would not be the last for either of them.
His men took their positions up and down the dockyards, out of view from any onlookers that might appear. Davis’s team was chosen because when the odds were razor thin, their records of success in these types of missions were unsurpassed. Pride swelled in Austin’s chest. As dangerous as this op with the CIA was, he would make sure all of them would come out alive. That was his job. That was what he must do.
The call to sunset prayer rang out from a nearby mosque.
Davis held up his hand and then lowered it.
Go time.
Austin gave the signal to move, and the entire team crawled onto the barren dock, which only a few weeks ago would have been bustling with workers.
Making it to the target location came without a hitch. The building’s roof was destroyed in an earlier bombing, not from U.S. forces but from Saddam’s Republican Guard. The dictator had no qualms killing his own people when it suited him.
On plan, he, Remington, and the lieutenant entered the building from the rear, while the others rushed in through the front.
Three Iraqi soldiers stood to the left of Eric Shaw, who was tied to
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