Operation Zulu Redemption: Hazardous Duty - Part 3

Operation Zulu: Redemption
Part 3 – Hazardous Duty
Ronie Kendig

Stay connected with the action at
www.teamzulu.com

Copyright

© 2014 by Ronie Kendig

eBook Editions:

Adobe Digital Edition (.epub) 978-1- 63058-297-5

Kindle and MobiPocket Edition (.prc) 978-1- 63058-296-8

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted for commercial purposes, except for brief quotations in printed reviews, without written permission of the publisher.

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any similarity to actual people, organizations, and/or events is purely coincidental.

Published by Shiloh Run Studios, an imprint of Barbour Publishing, Inc., P.O. Box 719, Uhrichsville, Ohio 44683, www.barbourbooks.com

Our mission is to publish and distribute inspirational products offering exceptional value and biblical encouragement to the masses.

Dear eReader,

Welcome to Operation Zulu: Redemption—Part 3-Hazardous Duty!

As you now know,
Operation Zulu: Redemption
is a serial novel and a unique reading experience. The story, told in five parts, can be compared to a TV mini-series—complete with cliff-hangers, plot twists, and plenty of action. Be sure to start the mission with
Overkill: The Beginning
and then read each part in order. This way you won’t miss any of the heart-stopping action or important keys to the overall story.

Here’s when to look for each part—

Overkill: The Beginning – Available Now!

Part 1: Collateral Damage – Available Now!

Part 2: Out of Nowhere – Available Now!

Part 3: Hazardous Duty – Available Now!

Part 4: Act of Treason – Coming August 8, 2014

We encourage you to pre-order all the parts at your favorite ebook retailer or visit
www.teamzulu.com
and sign up for reminders…plus you’ll discover contests, prizes, and more.

Enjoy!

Main Characters

Zulu One: Annie Palermo

aka Ashland Palmieri

After the tragic mission in Misrata, Annie became Ashland Palmieri, renting a small house on Lake Wapato and working at a sub shop in Manson, Washington. But the intrusion of a handsome former Navy SEAL,
Sam Caliguari,
threatens everything she’s worked to build and protect.

Zulu Two: Téya Reiker

aka Katherine “Katie” Gerig

After Misrata, Téya became Katherine “Katie” Gerig, embracing the quiet life of her Amish grandmother in Bleak Pond, Pennsylvania. She’s at peace for the first time in her life and is set to take the faith and start a relationship with
David Augsburger
.

Zulu Three: Jessica “Jessie” Herring

aka Jamie Hendricks

After Misrata, Jessie became Jamie Hendricks and fell into many of the vices of “Sin City”—Las Vegas, Nevada. The tragedy in Misrata fractured her psyche, and she could never pull herself back together. She’s a computer specialist, and despite orders not to, she continued researching what happened in Misrata.

Zulu Four: Candice Reyna

aka Charlotte Reynolds

After Misrata, Candice became a park ranger at Denali National Park in Alaska, who goes by the name Charlotte “Charlie” Reynolds.

Zulu Five: Keeley Shay

aka Kendall Shine

After Misrata, Keeley Shay became Kendall Shine, a dive instructor on Little Cayman Island.

Zulu Six: Nuala King

aka Nyah Kesebi

After Misrata, Nuala King became Nyah Kesebi, who works at a lodge in the Blue Ridge Mountains in North Carolina.

LTC Trace Weston

Lieutenant Colonel
Trace Weston was a Special Forces operator and team leader who assembled the Zulu team. He is now working for U.S. Intelligence and Security Command (INSCOM).

CWO2 Boone Ramage

Chief Warrant Officer Boone Ramage
is Trace Weston’s former right-hand man. He helped train the Zulu team.

SFC Rusty Gray

Sergeant First Class Rusty Gray is former Special Forces operator who helped train the Zulu team.

Lieutenant Francesca “Frankie” Solomon

Frankie Solomon, daughter of
Brigadier General Haym Solomon,
works for U.S. Intelligence and Security Command (INSCOM).

Houston Plunkett
is an Information Systems Specialist working with Trace and Boone to protect and vindicate Zulu.

Kellie Hollister
and
Mercy Chandler
are cofounders of the organization HOMe—Hope of Mercy, International—which had a branch located in Misrata, Libya.

Berg Ballenger
worked with HOMe. His wife and child died in the tragedy at Misrata.

Giles Stoffel
, husband of Mercy Chandler, is the CEO and owner of Spirapoulos Holdings.

Mikalos Christakis
is the Chief Financial Officer of Spirapoulos Holdings.

Titus Batsakis
is the owner of Aegean Defense Systems.

The Lorings (Carl, Sharlene, Cora, and Charles)
are a family who have been hiding in Greece and may have information about the incident in Misrata.

Military Terms

ACU
– Army combat uniform

Airsoft M4 –
tactical Airsoft (paint pellet) assault rifle

BUD/S

Basic Underwater Demolition/SEAL Training

CQC
– close quarters combat

DOD
– Department of Defense

Glock 17
– a semiautomatic handgun

HK USP Compact
– a compact semiautomatic handgun

INSCOM
– U.S. Intelligence and Security Command

JAG
– Judge Advocate General

M4A1
– an assault rifle

NVGs
– night vision goggles

PIT
– pursuit intervention technique/tactic

RPG
– rocket-propelled grenade

RTB
– return to base

SF
– Special Forces

SAIC
– Special Agent in Charge

SOP
– standard operating procedure

SOCOM
– Special Operations Command

SureFire
– a tactical flashlight

VIII
Sam
Altitude: 34,000 feet
Unknown Date and Time

Cold steel bit into his wrists. Sam shifted where he sat—
which is where, exactly?
—and felt the cuffs make another greedy imprint on his arms. He gritted his teeth, noting the sound of chains scraping against metal. The vibrations worming through his entire body and the deafening roar of massive engines combined with the hollowing of his hearing warned him he was on a plane. In fact, his fourth one. If he’d been counting right.

Then again, could be the same plane, refueled and they’d placed him in different locations to confuse him. Aboard the first aircraft, he’d been strapped into a cushioned seat. They’d progressively gotten worse from there. Now, he’d been placed on a Globemaster in a strap seat on the uncomfortable-as-possible transport.

They’d cuffed him on scene, stuffed him in the SUV—but not before he spotted a glimpse out the heavily tinted windows of Solomon’s car hidden down the road. As soon as the door closed, he’d been hooded and taken to a chopper—a private one, he guessed—that ferried him to an airstrip. Nobody talked to him as they secured him into that first seat.

He knew two things from this little seek-and-find game: One, they didn’t want him knowing his location or destination. But this wasn’t the first time Sam had been a hostage. He had survival skills beyond most men, probably even more than those holding him. And two, patience would deliver him to whoever was behind this kidnapping. Patience would help him connect the dots of this incident to Ashland.

Ash. . .

Faced with the very real possibility of seeing her again, maybe even face-to-face, fear streaked through him. Stabbed his confidence. Mutilated his courage.

What if she didn’t want to see him again? What if she was some sick psycho who used men and loosed them?

Sam snorted and shook his head. She might’ve been able to hide her real name, but there was so much about Ashland she hadn’t been able to hide. The meticulous attention to detail that spoke of someone aware. . .
very
aware of her environment. Of threats. The hunger in her eyes for companionship and understanding. The way she responded to his kiss.
That
wasn’t faked, not simply because she’d kissed him back or
how
she’d done that. But because of the heat of passion in her face. That wasn’t something a person could fake.

Distinct and obvious, the descent pushed aggravation through his veins. Would this stop be one of many more? He’d tolerated a lot already but his fuse wasn’t endless.

Tires screeched against the tarmac, jolting him forward as the engines and the reverse thrusters slowed the aircraft.

Ashland. . .sure hope you’re at the end of this journey.
The thought of her
not
being there lit that fuse. All he’d put up with. All he’d endured. The punches. The way they’d walked him into a wall more than once.

As the craft taxied, boots thudded across the steel floor.

Sam stilled, focusing on his environment. More than one person coming. His mind played a quick mini-movie of him yanking free of the chains and breaking some noses then sprinting off into the sunset. Right. That would work in Hollywood. Not so much in real life. As the plane quieted, the chains around him rattled and a heavy whine filled the air. He guessed that a rear-loading door had been opened.

Grabbed by each arm, Sam was hauled to his feet. It was too much to hope they’d remove the hood. They guided him, steel vibrating through his shoes as he shuffled like a maximum security prisoner. No light filtered through the hood, so he used that to guess darkness had fallen. The familiar whine of a rear-loading tail filled his ears.

“Step,” someone said gruffly.

Sam went a little more tentatively and felt himself on a decline—the ramp he’d predicted. Shards of light stabbed through the fabric. Not sunlight, but bright lights emanating from certain locations. Had to be dark.

“Watch—”

Sam struck something. Tangled his feet. Hands chained to his feet, he pitched forward unable to break a fall. Hard grips yanked him backward, along with a chuckle.

He had the distinct feeling he’d been tripped—intentionally. Clenching his jaw, he pulled himself straight.
For Ashland. I’m doing this for Ash. . . .
Wind tugged at his clothing and pressed the hood against his face.

“Where is he?” someone shouted, their voice muffled by the dying engine noise.

“He’ll be here,” the man holding Sam’s right arm said. Voice gruff. “Eyes out.”

“Spend too much time and there will be questions. Can’t stay much longer.”

“You will if you want to get paid.”

“Since when have you been someone’s lapdog?”

The hand around his bicep tightened; the talkative guy was ticking off the thug.

“Hey,” someone said just before Sam was guided to the right. The engine noise quieted some more, both as they cut it off and as the distance grew.

The hood was yanked off, along with a clump of hair that felt like fire prickling his scalp. Sam winced and cringed, then immediately devoured his surroundings. Yes, it was dark. Sun had gone down. Lights on the tarmac revealed things that stepped into its beams but shadowed that which stood between Sam and the source. Taking in everything, he did his best to gain orientation. In the distance a smattering of multistoried structures stuck out of a semi-mountainous terrain. Thick copses of trees lined the hills. Far away but still visible, a hillside was lit up with golden lights. Sam’s gaze rose to the top of the mountain that towered over the rest to the ruins.

No way. The Acropolis?
What the heck am I doing in Greece?

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