Primary Target (1999) Read Online Free PDF Page A

difference. It had given the MiG pilots a basic heading to intercept the intruders.
    After descending to 2,300 feet, Muhammud leveled off and watched the fuselage of the Tomcat plunge into the Persian Gulf. Scanning the hazy sky for parachutes, the MiGs flew a sweeping circle around the impact area as more debris splashed into the water. Unable to spot any sign of the downed crew, Muhammud and his wingman added power and banked toward their base at Shiraz.
    En route to the airfield, Muhammud recalled the emotional pep talk their squadron commander had given the pilots. The infidels are going to have to face reality; the Islamic Republic of Iran will no longer tolerate the intrusive acts fomented by the president of the "capital of global arrogance." Today marks the emergence of a different, more powerful, more determined Iran.
    Muhammud swelled with pride, knowing that he was the first of Iran's elite fighter pilots to strike a deadly blow to the Americans.

    Chapter 4
    Alaska .
    Scott Dalton stumbled sideways in the Kenai River when a king salmon snagged his line. Thrashing wildly, th e powerful fish almost jerked the rod out of Scott's hands. He quickly found his footing and regained his balance while line screeched off the reel. This was Dalton's third attempt at landing a king salmon and he was determined not to let this one get away, especially not in front of his longtime friend and fishing buddy, Greg O'Donnell.
    The former Marine Corps Harrier pilots had a standing wager. When they rendezvoused in Alaska for one of their fishing trips, whoever caught the first fish of the day enjoyed dinner at the expense of the loser, and the winner of the biggest fish of the day received free drinks for the evening. The traditional rivalry had been pretty much a wash thus far, with Dalton buying most of the drinks and O'Donnell paying for the majority of their dinners.
    Enjoying the cool of early morning, Dalton fought the fish and stole a glance at O'Donnell's king salmon lying on the edge of the riverbank. The gleaming trophy was a rare beauty that Scott figured would tip the scales at 40 to 45 pounds. He looked at the sun rising over the picturesque river, then cast a look at a moose and her calf. He decided that life couldn't get any better. The day was in glorious bloom, th e birds were trilling, and the salmon fishing promised to live up to the reputation of the Kenai River.
    The descendant of a disciplined Confederate general, and the son of a hard-charging Vietnam-era Marine Corps brigadier general, Scott Johnston Dalton was a strapping native of Nashville, Tennessee. Broad-shouldered and strong-willed, Dalton was an intelligent, intense man who had learned to take time out for a few of life's pleasures. He enjoyed flying aerobatics in his Great Lakes biplane and sailing his immaculate Morgan 33 around Chesapeake Bay. At six feet even, with dark hair, he was ruggedly handsome and had startling blue eyes that exuded charm and wit.
    A three-year varsity quarterback for the "Commodores" of Vanderbilt University, Scott had been Greg O'Donnell's flight leader during a number of combat missions in support of Operations Desert Shield and Desert Storm. When Captain Dalton's Harrier was shot down over southern Iraq, O'Donnell flew cover for him until an Army rescue helicopter could reach the injured pilot. Shortly after he returned to flying status, Scott made the difficult decision to leave the Marine Corps and pursue a different career.
    Less than six months later he reported for initial training at the Central Intelligence Agency. During his first years at the Agency, he established a solid reputation for successfully completing the most complex and hazardous assignments. After he qualified as a counterterrorism-strike-force team leader, many of Scott's daring and courageous feats made him an instant legend in the CIA. As his reputation grew, the White House began calling on him to conduct special covert operations in various