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Additional resources for Sigma Force 06 - The Doomsday Key
Sample text
The windows were dark, and the only door faced the open fields. He paused to steady himself. One fast dash and he could be inside the hut. But before he could move, new jets of flame burst forth on the far side of the field. A line of men bearing flamethrowers set off down the rows of corn, burning the fields that had yet to be harvested. What the hell’s happening? Off to the right, the single granary tower exploded in a fiery whirlwind that spiraled high into the air. Shocked, but using the distraction, Jason dashed to the Quonset hut’s open door and dove through it.
He flashed back to a night two years ago, remembering the roar of a motorcycle down a suburban street, running with no lights, bearing a deadly rider, an assassin of mixed loyalties. Gray swallowed to gain his voice. M. C. Hours later, Gray had showered, changed into jeans and a sweatshirt, and sat in the satellite surveillance room of Sigma headquarters. He shared the space with Painter and Monk. On the screen shone a digital map. It traced a crooked red line from Thailand to Italy. The path of the assassin ended in Venice.
Those same fingers could crush walnuts. Monk pulled him to his feet. As Gray brushed wet leaves from his Kevlar motorcycle suit, his cell phone chimed from his breast pocket. He pulled it out and checked the Caller ID. His jaw tightened. “It’s HQ,” he told Monk and lifted the phone to his ear. ” “Pierce? About time you picked up. I’ve called you four times in the past hour. ” It was Gray’s boss, Painter Crowe, director of Sigma. Fighting for some adequate explanation, Gray glanced back at his motorcycle.
