Hidden Threat Read Online Free PDF

and placed the M4 in his lap, studying it. He was experienced with its predecessor, the M16, and the two weapons looked essentially the same other than size. Rahman held the M4 up, the single light bulb hanging from the ceiling providing a weak yellow hue. There was no name that he could see on the weapon, but it did have a serial number just above the magazine well. The numbers were meaningless to him. He adjusted the weapon so that the light would shine on the opposite side. As he turned the rifle, he heard a sliding, scraping noise in the butt-stock, as if something were loose.
    He turned the weapon so that the muzzle was pointed down at the floor and he was staring at the machined backing of the telescoping stock. He saw a detent button and a cutaway portion of the butt. Similar to the M16, but smaller again, he knew this was where the soldiers normally carried their weapons cleaning gear.
    He pushed on the button, pulled on the miniature trap door and turned the weapon upside down.
    Into his lap fell a 4 GB flash drive.
     
     
     
     
    CHAPTER 4
    Hindu Kush, Afghanistan
     
    Saturday
     
    Sergeant Lance Eversoll sat inside Colonel Zachary Garrett’s command Humvee as it idled in the daylight. A bright sun had squeezed the purplish gray from the morning and now reflected off the white snow, making him thankful that he had his dark Wiley X sunglasses. He had parked the vehicle at the base of the mountain where the helicopter had crashed, and he had been monitoring radio transmissions for a full day since.
    As soon as they’d gotten word of the crash, another helicopter had ferried in a full platoon of infantry to secure the site. There were nearly one hundred people floating around the area, and with the enemy about four thousand feet above them in the mountains, no less.
    Right up there, he thought, looking at the top of the inhospitable ridge. He visualized the explosion and then the aircraft plummeting into the crevice below. He had listened to the entire fight on the radio, and his heart sank when he heard the reports from the AC-130 pilot that Colonel Garrett’s aircraft had gone down in a fireball. Moments before the crash, the radio had crackled with the constant stream of spot reports that the team had rescued the Navy SEAL. Eversoll had pumped his fist with a definitive Yes!
    Then came Rampage’s excited voice from the AC-130 gunship that they were concentrating fire on approximately twenty Al Qaeda moving toward the aircraft.
    Seconds later the pilot reported the explosion.
    He had participated in the subsequent rescue mission that had taken all of Friday and now into Saturday. Mortuary affairs soldiers milled around the wreckage like scavengers looking for scraps. There wasn’t much left. The Kunar River raged and tumbled at the bottom of the abyss. Some of the bodies had been found a mile downstream. Still others had yet to be located.
    Then the call came over the radio that the rescue operation had officially changed to a recovery operation. There was no one to rescue.
    Sergeant Eversoll wiped his forehead with his sleeve and then placed his advanced combat helmet back on, snapping the chinstrap tight. He gritted his teeth as he whispered the warrior ethos to himself. Always place the mission first. Never accept defeat. Never quit. Never leave a fallen comrade. These were words for a soldier to live by, he thought to himself. And to die by.
    He refused to believe that his role model was gone.
    “ Sir,” he said, turning to Lieutenant Colonel Chizinski. “Sir, are they certain that they found Colonel Garrett’s dog tags?”
    Chizinski looked at Eversoll with sullen eyes.
    “ Chopper exploded with a full tank of gas then fell four thousand feet into a damn crevice. They’ve only found the remains of four people.”
    “ What about the other ten?”
    “ Still looking.” Chizinski coughed into one hand and opened the other to reveal a charred piece of metal half the size of a credit card. “The