Fallen Angel

Fallen Angel Read Online Free PDF Page B

Book: Fallen Angel Read Online Free PDF
Author: Jeff Struecker
where?"
    "These things can't be predicted with absolute accuracy, but we can get close . . ."
    "You're killing us here, Major," Moyer said.
    "Siberia."
    Rich swore.
    "Siberia. As in the Russian wasteland?"
    "Some people call Siberia home," Scalon said.
    "No one I know," Rich whispered.
    "In June of 2010, the Japanese Space Agency guided the Hayabusa spacecraft—the one that landed on an asteroid and returned to earth—to the Australian outback. Unlike them, however, we have lost all control of what's left of our bird; otherwise, we'd direct it into some deep ocean. The best we can do is crunch the numbers and watch it fall."
    "To Siberia," Rich mumbled. "First Nebraska, now Siberia."
    "Yes, to Siberia."
    "There's more." Colonel Mac's voice rolled from overhead speakers. "In fact, it's why you're the ones going and not someone closer. The Air Force sent in one of their Special Ops units. They were captured and we believe they are being held near the area where Angel-12 will impact. Your mission is twofold. First, be the first to the satellite, secure its nuclear power source, and then destroy its sensitive communications and optics. Second, if possible, get the flyboys home. Is that understood?"
    "Understood, sir." Moyer paused, then added, "How do we insert into Siberia?"
    Mac smiled. "You like fishing?"

CHAPTER 4
    "YOU GOT TEN MINUTES," Captain Tim Bryan said. "I wish it could be more."
    "Not your fault." Moyer's mind believed the words, but his heart was not so agreeable.
    "Follow me." Tim led them from the elevator and down a long, wide corridor with a floor polished like a mirror. The footfalls of seven men echoed off the hard surfaces. Tim stopped at a door marked Accounting 105, turned the knob, and swung it open. Inside, two airmen and one lieutenant sat at computers. Were they really doing accounting work or something more covert?
    The three came to their feet the moment Tim stepped into the room. "At ease, gentlemen." Tim faced the officer. "I need the room, Lieutenant."
    "Excuse me, sir?"
    "Lock down your stations and then go get a cup of coffee."
    "Um, yes sir." The officer turned to the airmen in the room. "You heard the captain. Secure your computers and desks."
    The man's puzzled look brought a smile to Moyer's face. He did his best to hide it.
    As the three accountants filed from the room, Tim stopped the officer. "I need five more rooms with phones."
    "Sir?"
    "In about ten minutes, these men are about to take a long trip. I want them to have a few minutes to make a phone call."
    "But, sir—"
    "You ever been in Minot, North Dakota, in January, Lieutenant?"
    "Five rooms empty and with phones, sir. Got it."
    Tim turned to Moyer's men. "The lieutenant will escort you to offices where you can make your calls. He'll show you how to get an outside line."
    Moyer looked at the former Air Force Spec Ops warrior. "Are you going to get in trouble for this, Captain?"
    Tim shrugged. "I don't know what you're talking about." He slapped Moyer on the shoulder. "For me, this was always the most difficult part of any mission." He chuckled. "When I was wounded, my first thought wasn't if I'd live or die. I was worried about explaining it to my wife."
    "I got one of those wives too. My men and I appreciate this." Moyer held out his hand and Tim gave it a man-to-man shake, the kind of handshake that says more than words.
    "Come on, Sergeant Major. Let me see if I can't get you an outside line."
    Sixty seconds later, Moyer stood at the lieutenant's desk, phone in hand. He was having trouble drawing a deep breath.
    "Hello." The voice was like silk: smooth, cool, and soft. It also carried a hint of suspicion. The voice cut Moyer's heart like a sharp knife. He had been through this before. The caller ID at his home read: UNKNOWN.
    "Hi, babe." The image of his wife, shoulder-length strawberry-blond hair, sparkling eyes, and million-dollar smile, flashed on his brain.
    "Eric? I thought you . . . oh."
    "Yeah, my business trip has been
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