Scorpion: A Covert Ops Novel (Second Edition) Read Online Free PDF Page B

was previously used for
rendition flights. A section of four seats near the front of the cabin had been
removed to create additional space, and old blood stains speckled the carpet.
    Avery’s luggage filled the seats near him. He travelled
with a black backpack, and two heavy diplomatic lockboxes whose content would
be immune from search or seizure by Tajik authorities. The duffel bag and
backpack were filled with a few extra changes of clothes, laptop computer with
encrypted hard drive, high calorie protein and granola bars, and bottled water.
Lots of bottled water.
    The much larger and heavier cases contained his
standard assortment of gear and equipment, including an M4A1 5.56mm carbine
assault rifle with collapsible stock, suppressor, scope, tripod, and several
spare magazines; Desert Eagle .50 semi-automatic pistol, Cold Steel combat
knife, night vision device, urban ballistic vest, and a small assortment of surveillance
equipment.  A shoulder holster worn under his black windbreaker held his Glock
17, and he wore a new pair of Colombia hiking boots.
    When he left for a job, Avery didn’t always know what
may come up, so he always went prepared with basic kit. He’d also retain the
option of contacting Culler and procuring any other equipment he may need, most
likely by way of diplomatic pouch, but that was best left as an absolute last
resort. Obtaining gear from Langley meant money and resources and that
invariably involved bean counters creating paper trails and records.
    It felt good to have something to do again, to have
purpose and be needed. Over two months since his last job, and Avery started to
feel the sink into the familiar, purposeless void that inevitably clouded his
mind in between jobs. Thinking that way, while Cramer was quite possibly being
beaten and tortured, waiting to have his head chopped off by fanatics, and
another man was already dead, made Avery feel callous, but it was the truth.
     He’d spent the majority of the past fifteen weeks,
since returning from his last job, routine bodyguard work in Tripoli, at his
ranch house in the backwoods of West Virginia. When there wasn’t a job, he
trained hard and stayed focused. He ran five miles four days a week. Each day,
he targeted a different muscle group with weightlifting. Once a week, he
practiced with firearms, either on the makeshift range in his backyard, or he’d
make the drive to Quantico or the Point, where he’d also tackle the obstacle
courses, the Kill House, or defensive driving courses to keep those skills
sharp. Once a month, he’d make a day-trip rock climbing and hiking.
    The confines of
the jet’s cabin became stifling.
    He wanted to get
on the ground and get to work. The feelings of wasting time and waiting were
always the worst for him, even more so now, with a life on the line.
    A text from an
old friend named Jack helped reign in some of the anxiety. Before leaving the
US, Avery had contacted the former Special Forces NCO who currently did work
for the Agency in the Hindu Kush, asking him if he had any local contacts. And
he did. A Tajik named Dagar Nabiyev, who had worked as a fixer for the Northern
Alliance during the Afghan war, was expected in Dushanbe later that day. Jack
provided a time and place where Avery could find him.
    Avery responded
to the text with thanks and told Jack to call him on his regular number next
time he was in the States.
    ___
    The Learjet was received at a section of
Dushanbe International Airport reserved for military and diplomatic flights,
but this was rather misleading, as Dushanbe International resembled something
more akin to a medium-sized airfield rather than a modern international
airport. The military section was in reality two run-down hangars, one currently
under Russian lease, the other used by Tajik troops.
    The buildings
and major infrastructure of the airport were built in 1964, and even some of
the original structures from the 1920s and ‘30s remained intact. The