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    SEAL Team Bravo: Black Ops – ISIS Broken Arrow II
    SEAL Team Bravo: Black Ops – ISIS Broken Arrow II
    SEAL Team Bravo: Black Ops – ISIS Broken Arrow II
    Ebook111 pages1 hour

    SEAL Team Bravo: Black Ops – ISIS Broken Arrow II

    By Eric Meyer

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    About this ebook

    At last, the third book and eagerly awaited sequel to the SEAL Team Bravo Black Ops - Short Read series.

    ISIS Broken Arrow II

    Emerging from the mountains of the Northern Pakistan Tribal Badlands, four Bravo operators have successfully destroyed an arms convoy on the way to resupply the Afghan insurgency. But there will be no rest for them yet. A deadly warhead is missing, hijacked by the insurgents, who plan to detonate the weapon in a major city. A plan to foment further wars between nations.

    The warhead is discovered hidden inside an impregnable fortress, high on a mountaintop inside Pakistan. Impossible to assault by conventional means, and so Bravo are sent in to do the impossible. There is more at stake than a warhead. Two undercover operatives, one inside the fortress and one outside, face imminent death, their lives hanging by a thread.

    The four Bravo operators parachute onto a high snow-covered mountain. They traverse icy slopes and negotiate treacherous glaciers just to reach the target, before they can even begin to face the enemy. Lashkar e-Taiba, vicious insurgents, from the same mold as ISIS and al Qaeda. Outnumbered and outgunned, the world holds it breath as Bravo fight their way into the very depths of hell.

    This is an edge of the seat thriller. A story of four US Navy SEALs fighting the toughest, most sadistic and depraved Islamic adversaries they have yet encountered. SEAL Team Bravo Black Ops: ISIS Broken Arrow II is by the bestselling author of many other Spec Ops stories. These include the popular SEAL Team Bravo titles, the Raider series, as well as Echo Six and the Devil's Guard series.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherSwordworks Books
    Release dateNov 17, 2016
    ISBN9781911092339
    SEAL Team Bravo: Black Ops – ISIS Broken Arrow II
    Author

    Eric Meyer

    An internationally recognized expert on the subjects of HTML, CSS, and Web standards, Eric has been working on the web since late 1993. He is the founder of Complex Spiral Consulting, a co-founder of the microformats movement, and co-founder (with Jeffrey Zeldman) of An Event Apart, the design conference series for people who make web sites. Beginning in early 1994, Eric was the campus Web coordinator for Case Western Reserve University, where he authored a widely acclaimed series of three HTML tutorials and was project lead for the online version of the Encyclopedia of Cleveland History combined with the Dictionary of Cleveland Biography, the first example of an encyclopedia of urban history being fully and freely published on the Web.

    Read more from Eric Meyer

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      Book preview

      SEAL Team Bravo - Eric Meyer

      SEAL TEAM BRAVO: BLACK OPS

      ISIS BROKEN ARROW II

      By Eric Meyer

      Copyright 2016 by Eric Meyer

      Published by Swordworks Books

      All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.

      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. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.

      Click on the link and tell me where to send the book!

      Foreword

      The crowd screeched their hatred in a language that wasn’t German. Commanding Officer Colonel Grant S. Blackman regarded the screaming, shouting mob that besieged his airfield. Ramstein, South Western Germany, the vast USAF Airfield home to large numbers of American and NATO aircraft. It was also home to an unwelcome visitor. A nuclear warhead, recently recovered from the Middle East, and awaiting shipment for its final journey to the U.S. for technical analysis and final destruction; an end to a long and bloody saga. They’d strapped the heavily guarded cargo to a pallet, in readiness for the ground crew to load it on board the aircraft. A C-17 Globemaster waited nearby, fueled and ready to carry the special cargo on the long transatlantic flight to the United States. It was the end of a long saga that began in the mountains of North Western Syria.

      The crowd outside the gates disagreed. Their placards were eloquent.

      ‘Germany nuclear free zone.’

      ‘Keep our skies nuclear free.’

      ‘No missiles inside German airspace.’

      It didn’t ring true. Blackman glanced at Master Sergeant Miguel Gomez. What do you make of it? If they were that keen on getting the warhead off German soil, surely they'd want it to go by the fastest route. I don’t get it.

      The Air Force veteran frowned. There’s something not right here, Colonel. The people in that crowd, I'd say more than ninety percent of them are Muslims. All long beards and spitting hatred, a bit like downtown Kabul on a Saturday night.

      Blackman smiled. Bagram was some gig, Miguel. Hard to forget.

      Yessir, it was. And this doesn’t look too different. Why are they all Muslims?

      Colonel Blackman didn’t reply, but waited as an officer approached. Captain Ed Rasmussen, his aide. He looked flustered, and Blackman sighed. Another problem. What is it, Captain, more trouble? Don’t we have enough out here?

      We have a visitor, Sir, a politician demanding entry to the base. A government bigshot, guy says he’s the Federal Minister of the Environment.

      Any idea what he wants?

      No, Sir. His eyes roved over the baying crowd outside the gates, But I’m guessing it’s something to do with this.

      He nodded. Okay, let him in. The moment his car is inside, get those gates shut fast. You know we’re on high alert because of the nuke sitting on the tarmac. If anyone gets inside our perimeter, the sentries have orders to shoot to kill.

      Understood, Sir.

      He hurried away, and Blackman watched as armed sentries struggled to open the steel gates to allow the long, black Mercedes limo to pass through. The moment the rear fender was inside, they shouldered the gates closed and fastened the bolts and locks. Blackman waited, wondering what this was all about, and the Mercedes stopped several meters away. The man who climbed out was every inch the politician; expensive, dark suit, stylish, blonde haircut, and polished, handmade shoes. Seventy years ago, he’d have been a senior SS officer, or Nazi big wheel. His expression was as smooth as the suit. If there was a single feature that marked him out from others, it was the eyes, blue, ice cold. Political eyes.

      He nodded a curt greeting. Colonel, my name is Bundesminister Franz Stollenberg.

      Blackman offered his hand. Minister, how may I help you?

      The man waved a hand toward the seething crowd. You can see these people are angry about what you’re proposing to do. I'm afraid you must cancel your plans to transport the warhead through German airspace.

      He fought back his irritation. How in the hell do you expect me to get it out of the country, Mister? You want me to conjure it out by magic?

      The German gave him a wintry smile. I can clear the cargo for road transport to the port of Hamburg. You may load it onto a ship and convey it by sea. If you attempt to transport it through our airspace, my government will regard it as an act of war.

      Blackman let out his breath with a long hiss, counted down from fifty, forcing himself to stay calm. His first impulse was to toss the pompous idiot back into his car and send him back out.

      The government is responding to Islamic pressure, without question. Which means unimportant factors like safety and security are swept aside. What makes it worse is I have no choice but to agree. This is their country. Even the protesters are German, although they don’t look very Teutonic. Most would look more at home in Baghdad, or Kabul.

      Very well, Minister. If you insist, I'll cancel the flight and arrange road transport to Hamburg. If there's nothing else, I'm pretty busy right now. As you can see, we have a situation here. A Muslim situation.

      A German Muslim situation, the Bundesminister corrected him, Thank you for your cooperation, Colonel. I will make a favorable report to my government when I return to Berlin.

      Yeah, you do that.

      Shithead.

      They shook hands, and he watched the politician climb into the limo. A uniformed chauffeur held open the door. When the smooth German was inside the smooth German car, he took the driving seat. Blackman signaled for the sentries to open the gates, and the crowd parted respectfully as the black Mercedes drove away, almost as if the passenger was one of them. He was thoughtful.

      What’s behind this nonsense? Whatever’s happening out there, it’s not what it seems. I’ll talk to the base intel officer. See if he can make any sense of it.

      He looked at his two subordinates. Do you men have any ideas what that was all about?

      Gomez spat on the floor. Excuse me, Colonel, but if I were a betting man, I'd say the Muslims got to him. They’re up to something sneaky.

      He nodded. I agree, but we don’t have any choice. Master Sergeant, prepare the shipment for road transport. Captain Rasmussen, contact the Federal Government, Office of the Environment Ministry, and arrange the necessary routing licenses.

      The two men went away, and he continued to survey the crowd.

      What are you bastards up to? This stinks like the rotting carcass of a dead goat.

      * * *

      The darkness over Hamburg fled in the face of the powerful overhead arc lights. The rattle of deck cranes hauling cargo aboard accompanied the lap of waves on the oily piers. The time was 03.00, an hour when most honest, law-abiding folks were tucked up safely asleep in their beds. The sweating crew of the cargo vessel tied to the wharf were not in their beds.

      The men labored to fill the hold and deck of the Greek registered MV Demos with an assortment of pallets, crates, and containers. All of it bound for the Eastern Seaboard of the United States of America. The master of the vessel, Captain Costas Ralli, watched from his position high on the bridge. The shipping agent had called him the previous morning, to inform him that most of his regular crew had disappeared without trace. It was assumed they’d deserted, probably signed up for higher wages with another vessel. It was always possible. Fortunately, the agency had sent him replacements in record time. The minibus arrived at the dockside, the men tumbled out, and he had a crew. The new men all appeared to have a working knowledge of the way merchant vessels worked.

      The last crate to swing aboard carried no markings, but the two U.S. Air Force sergeants who accompanied it were watchful. It could only be a weapon of some kind. He hadn't wanted to transport it, but the vessel's

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