Mission Liberty Read Online Free PDF

arms, at which point they closed their arms over the rings, and then the PBR yanked them out of the water
     one by one, never slowing to less than five knots. Two SEALs with arms the size of buffalo haunches hauled them into the Zodiac
     and helped them roll into the fastboat. When the last man was out of the water, the PBR throttled up, hydroplaning at fifty
     knots as it sped toward the waiting LST, bouncing across the waves.
    DeLuca gazed astern. He saw plumes of black smoke rising above the city, several buildings on fire in the neighborhood beyond
     where the Castle of St. James sat atop its mount. A single CH-47 Chinook flew toward the carrier.
    Over the radio, DeLuca learned that the Marines holding the castle had lost a “jolly” on liftoff to a rocket-propelled grenade,
     taking three casualties in the process before the flight crew and passengers could be transferred to the remaining helicopter.
     He passed the news on to the ambassador, who’d said very little since leaving the castle.
    “Believe it or not,” DeLuca said, “it looks like we took the easy way out.”
    “Agent DeLuca, I’m recommending you for the Congressional Medal of Honor,” the ambassador said. “I believe your conduct today
     has been absolutely outstanding.”
    “Thanks, but no thanks,” DeLuca said. Evidently the ambassador had no idea what the Medal of Honor was for. “I’m not being
     humble. The more attention I get, the harder it is for me to do my job.”
    “Then I’ll buy you a beer,” the ambassador said.
    “Thanks, but I don’t drink,” DeLuca said. The fact was, DeLuca drank as much as the next guy, but if the next guy was going
     to be Ambassador Ellis, he’d pass. They were paying him to rescue the guy, but they couldn’t pay him enough to like him.

Chapter Two
    DELUCA AND HIS TEAM CHANGED INTO DRY clothes aboard the LST, the USS
Cowper,
then choppered to the USS
Lyndon Johnson,
to debrief and await transport to a British base in Ghana, where they would, if everything went according to plan, catch
     a flight home.
    DeLuca knew, when he saw his friend, General Phillip LeDoux, waiting for him in the briefing room aboard the
Johnson,
that the plan was about to change. They were joined by a dozen others, including the captains of the
Johnson,
the
Cowper,
and its sister ship the
Glover,
two admirals, a Marine four-star, an Army two-star, Ambassador Ellis, and a handful of civilians DeLuca knew he’d be introduced
     to soon enough. He saluted his friend. At the time that they’d both been accepted to OCS, DeLuca’s ratings were higher than
     LeDoux’s, but DeLuca had chosen to go in another direction. LeDoux’s career vector had been the proverbial skyrocket, distinguishing
     himself in Panama, Gulf One, Kosovo, and Iraqi Freedom. Sometimes DeLuca wondered if somebody was trying to slow LeDoux down,
     putting him in charge of counterintelligence. “Why do they have you watching over guys like me?” he’d asked his friend, who’d
     replied, “Because it’s the toughest job in the Army and I’m the only bastard up to the task.” In mixed company, DeLuca saluted,
     but between the two of them, they were as equal as a three-star general and a chief warrant officer could be.
    Night had fallen. Given that DeLuca had been up for nearly twenty-four hours, planning the day’s mission, which they’d launched
     before getting official approval, he accepted LeDoux’s offer of coffee with gratitude.
    “Navy coffee any better than Army coffee?” he asked.
    “Light-years,” LeDoux said. “This is Starbucks. The
LBJ
is subcontracting with ’em on a trial basis. Army still has KBR.”
    “I didn’t expect so many important people to show up, just to hear me describe my day,” DeLuca said.
    “They didn’t,” LeDoux said, stating the obvious. “This isn’t about you.”
    “You sound like my wife.”
    “I’m afraid you’re not going home just yet.”
    “I was afraid of that, too,” DeLuca said.
    At