The EscapeLarge Print - 2014 | First edition, Large print edition
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- “Moscow will always have more staying power than the desert rats. The terrorists will get subsumed into rising economies because they have no clue how to run a country or create jobs. People over there care less about Allah and more about having clean water, electricity, and ways to feed their families. But Russia is a real country. With a real army. With real nuclear capability.”
-“And you want to side with a country run by a former KGB agent?”
- “As opposed to what? A country run by old white billionaires and their paid lackeys in Washington?”
“There’s one key difference between the Olympics and combat, (intentionally left blank). You might have overlooked it.” He paused. “In the Olympics, no one is shooting back at you.”
IC, which stood for “intelligence community.” With nearly thirteen hundred government organizations and two thousand private companies in over ten thousand locations spread across the country, employing close to a million people, a third of those private contractors, all holding top secret clearances or higher, the IC employed about two-thirds as many people in the United States as did Wal-Mart.
This was the intelligence field, which apparently came chock-full of lies, dubious allegiances, ulterior motives, changing agendas, and everyone telling you what you wanted to hear while they were sticking the knife deeper into your back and blaming it on someone else.
to capitalize on any bit of notoriety to lure visitors to the area, had incorporated the prison angle into its promotional brochures with the phrase “Doin’ time in Leavenworth.” Federal dollars rolled through this part of Kansas and jumped the border into Missouri like a flood of green paper locusts, boosting the local economy and filling the coffers of businesses that provided the soldiers with smoked ribs, cold beer, fast cars, cheap hookers, and pretty much everything in between.
JOHN PULLER HAD his M11 pistol pointed at the man’s head. A fancied-up Beretta 92—known in the military as an M9A1—was pointed right back at him. It was a twenty-first-century duel that promised no winners and portended two fatal losers.
He had his weapons, because if he didn’t have his weapons then he must be dead and someone had forgotten to tell him.
Now things, already serious, morphed into something bordering on chaotic. And then the situation became a lot worse.
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