To The Lions - 02 Read Online Free PDF Page A

home on that pathetic little hill at Pedralbes, I know about your son, the cerebrito , zit-faced mathematician
wannabe at Zaragoza…and your daughter, pre-med and promiscuous…in the event you
didn’t know…studying at the charming Universidad d’Oviedo.”   Xavier menacingly flashed his teeth.   “If you do not come through, they’ll be
getting visits from me.   And the
daughter’s visit with me will be lengthy, Amando, if you know what I mean.”
    Amando’s
expression couldn’t have been more horrified if he was ordered to slice his own
throat with a razor.   With a glance at
his watch, Xavier coolly pronounced that seven minutes remained.   He called out to Amando when he reached the
double doors.   “Amando!   When she’s on the couch, I don’t want her
demurely covering herself.”   He lowered
his chin.   “ Ready —and— willing .”
    With
a resigned nod and tears on his cheeks, Amando disappeared.

    * * *

    Raeford,
North Carolina
    At
that same moment, 4,232 miles away, Gage Hartline, hungry again, tore into a
late breakfast.   Having already doused it
with hot sauce, he forked an egg white omelet, briefly regretting his decision
to go with the healthier version of the incredible, edible egg.   Gage had flown in on the earliest flight out
of Dallas/Fort Worth and arrived in Raleigh ninety minutes before.   With only a tiny bag of salted peanuts in his
stomach, he sped straight to the Fort Bragg area without eating.
    The
restaurant Colonel Hunter had suggested they meet at was known as PK’s Grill
& Pub.   The small restaurant was
unique because it was situated at the Raeford Parachute Center, one of the
busiest skydiving drop zones in the world.   Nestled a few miles from sprawling Fort Bragg, Raeford is a training center,
and recreation spot, for many of the world’s elite covert operatives.   Gage had spent many, many days training
here.   Back during Gage’s military
training, Raeford Parachute Center had been owned by the venerable Gene Paul
Thacker, a skydiving pioneer and legend who had recently passed away.
    The
world was less interesting without good ol’ Gene Paul.
    Despite
all the military, anyone could visit Raeford and enjoy themselves by watching the
bevy of skydivers.   And one would never
guess that a number of the jumpers are members of the Special Forces, Delta
Force, and all manner of shadowy operations that have hatched from the world’s
nest to special operations.
    Skydiving
is an open, friendly community.   At
Raeford, it isn’t at all uncommon to find a group skydive populated by
civilians and military alike, their common bond being the hair-raising sport
they all share.
    Inside
of three minutes, Gage finished his omelet and plain wheat toast, gulping down
his water as Colonel Hunter ambled back over.   Hunter had eaten before Gage had arrived and, just as Gage had sat down,
Hunter was summoned to a quiet corner of the restaurant by a
distinguished-looking older gentleman Gage didn’t know.
    “Know
who that was?” Hunter asked, sitting back down and using a toothpick on his
teeth.
    Gage
reached across the table, pointing to Colonel Hunter’s two uneaten pieces of
toast.
    “Take
‘em.”
    “Who
is he?” Gage asked before devouring the first piece of toast.
    “Name’s
Harwood.   Was in Fifth Group in
‘Nam.   Had a helluva career.   Back when I was tabbed to assemble our team, Harwood
was in the running for the job.   We’d
jumped together before, out here actually, and also gone to a few schools
together.”   Colonel Hunter stared out the
window as a student flared high under canopy, tumbling to earth and performing
a nice parachute-landing-fall.   Hunter’s
voice became distant.   “Man, I thought
Harwood was gonna knife me the next time I saw him, judging by the way he
looked at me.”
    “Jealous?”
    “Bah,”
Hunter said, dismissing it.   “You know
how competitive it all was.   Soon after,
we got shipped off post, he went to