Eyes of the Hammer (The Green Berets) (54 page)
“And?”
“My entire squadron was lost.”
“Lost?”
“Yes, sir. They all disappeared.”
“Disappeared?”
“Yes, sir.”
“No survivors?”
“Just my plane's crew, sir.”
“How did you get back?”
“My plane had engine trouble. The pilot and I had to bail out early. We were picked up by a destroyer. The rest of the squadron never came back. Not a plane. Not a man.”
Henderson felt a chill tickle the bare skin below his own regulation haircut. Foreman’s flat voice, and the lack of detail, bothered the captain.
“My brother was in my squadron,” Foreman continued. “He never came back. I felt bad before that flight, Captain. As bad as I feel right now.”
Henderson looked at the pencil in his hand. First, Lieutenant Presson with his feelings of unease and now this. Henderson's instinct was to give Foreman the same order he'd given the young aviator. But he looked at the ribbons one more time. Foreman had done his duty many times. Presson had never been under fire. Foreman was a gunner, so his presence would make no difference one way or the other. “All right, corporal, you can sit the flight out. But I want you to be in the tower and work the monitoring shift. Are you healthy enough to do that?”
Foreman snapped to attention. There was no look of relief on his face, just the same stoic Marine Corps stare. “Yes, sir.”
“You're dismissed.”
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THE CELLAR SERIES
Praise for Bodyguard of Lies: “Thelma and Louise go clandestine.” Kirkus Reviews
“Heart-racing non-stop action that is difficult to put down.” Mystery News
CHAPTER 1
The old man sat alone in the darkness contemplating failure on a scale that historians would write about it for centuries, and the subsequent inevitable need for change. He was one of the most powerful people in the world, but only a few knew of his existence. His position had been born out of failure over sixty years previously, as smoke still smoldered above the mangled ships and dead bodies in Pearl Harbor. For over six decades, he had given his life to his country. His most valuable asset was dispassion, so he could view his own recent failures objectively, although recent was a subjective term. He realized now it had all begun over ten years ago.
His office lacked any charm or comfort. There was a scarcity about the room that was unnerving. The cheap desk and two chairs made it look more like an interview room in an improvised police station than the office of a man so powerful his name brought fear throughout the government he served in Washington. The top of the desk was almost clear. Just a secure phone and a stack of folders.
There were, naturally, no windows. Not three hundred feet underground, buried beneath the ‘crystal palace’ of the top secret National Security Agency at Fort Meade, Maryland. And not that he could have used windows. The few who knew of the organization sometimes wondered if this location was what had led to its name. While the CIA made headlines every week, the Cellar was only whispered about in the hallowed halls of the nation's capitol. It might have been located underneath the NSA building but it was an entity unto itself answerable only to its founding mandate.
The room was lit only by the dim red lights on the secure phone. They showed the scars on the old man’s face and the raw red, puckered skin where his eyes had once rested. There was track lighting, currently off, all three bulbs of which were over the old man’s head and angled toward the door. When on, they placed his face in a shadow and caused any guest to squint against the light. The few who had the misfortune to sit across from him didn’t know whether the lighting was placed in such a way to blind them as if he was, or to hide the severity of his old wounds.
He was not a man given much too sentimental reflection, but he knew his time was coming to an end, which made him think back to his beginning, as he knew all things were cyclical. He opened a right side desk drawer and pulled out a three dimensional representation of an old black and white photograph. He ran his fingers lightly over the raised images of three smiling young men dressed in World War II era uniforms—British, French and American. He was on the right. The other two were killed the day after the photo was taken.
He left the image on the desktop and reached for the files. The ones he wanted were the first two. He placed them on his lap. Paper files, the writing in Braille. He’d never trusted computers, even though there were ones now that could work completely on voice commands and read to him. Perhaps that was part of the problem. He was out of date. An anachronism.
They were labeled respectively Gant, Anthony and Masterson. He ran his fingers over the names punched on the tabs. He was patient. He had waited decades for plans born out of seeds he had sown to come to fruition. Quite a few similar plans had failed, so there was no reason to believe this one would succeed. But this plan was now in motion, initiated by an event he had had nothing to do with, the way the best plans in the covert world always started to allow deniability.
Despite his gifts of dispassion and patience, he felt a stirring in his chest. It puzzled him for a few moments before he realized he was experiencing hope. He squashed the feeling and picked up the phone to set another piece of the puzzle in motion.
More Books by Bob Mayer
Praise for Lost Girls: “ . . .delivers top-notch action and adventure, creating a full cast of lethal operatives armed with all the latest weaponry. Excellent writing and well-drawn, appealing characters help make this another taut, crackling read.” Publishers Weekly
“A pulsing technothriller. A nailbiter in the best tradition of adventure fiction.” Publishers Weekly.
“Mayer has crafted a military thriller in the tradition of John Grisham’s The Firm.” Kirkus
“Rogue politicians, a maniac scientist and the doomsday weapon—The Omega Missile comes screaming down on target. A great action reader!” Stephen Coonts.
“A very good novel. This is one book you can trust.
Behind the Lines.”
THE GREEN BERET SERIES
An 8 book series featuring Dave Rile and Horace Chase
“Exciting and authentic. Author Mayer, a Green Beret himself, gave me a vivid look at the world of the Army’s Special Forces as they battle America’s most deadly enemy. His portrayal of Green Beret operations and techniques takes you deep into the covert world of Special Operations as a you follow an A-Team into combat. Don’t miss this one.”
WEB Griffin
“Incredibly believable and absolutely riveting. Quite possibly the best book every written about the Green Berets. Bob Mayer tells Green Beret stories like Joseph Wambaugh tells cop stories!
Macon News-Record”
“Mayer keeps story and characters firmly under control. The venal motives of the scientists and military bureaucracy are tellingly contrasted with the idealism of the soldiers. A treat for military fiction readers.” Publishers Weekly
“A masterpiece of technology and suspense.” Library Journal
Eternity Base
“Sinewy writing enhances this already potent action fix. An adrenaline cocktail from start to finish.” Kirkus Reviews
Mayer has written a very good novel and has established himself as one of today’s better military technothriller writers. A background in Special Operations gives him credibility and understanding from having been there and done that.”
Airpower Journal
“Fascinating, imaginative and nerve-wracking.” Kirkus Reviews
Simply irresistible.” Booklist
