Fallout (Tom Clancy's Splinter Cell)
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A radical Islamic leader who dreams of the past will do anything in his power to ensure that the future is destroyed-by hitting the technological world where it hurts: oil.
Hunched over, he padded up the final few steps, then dropped to his belly and peeked around the corner. At the far end of the arched passage, where it curved around the bulge of the tower, a man in a gray velvet track suit was leaning on the railing, looking down at BakiyevLand. “Hey, you two, what’s the racket? ” the man said in heavily accented English. Fisher switched his goggles to NV, zoomed in on the man’s face, and snapped a photo. One of the men—Orville, it sounded like—said, “Sorry, boss, sorry.
Colonel, I’m going to find whoever did this to Peter. ” “I know. ” “And break a lot of laws doing it. ” “I know that, too. ” “And when I find them, I’m going to kill each and every one of them. ” Lambert laid a hand on Fisher’s forearm. “Stop. Take a breath. I mean it, Sam, take a breath. ” Fisher took a breath. “While you were in the air with Peter’s body, I was at Langley,” Lambert said. “We’ve got the green light from both the DCI and the NID. ” The director of central intelligence at the CIA and the national intelligence director—the president’s intelligence czar.
From his expression, Jimiyu seemed to be still considering his answer. “I think it is either lost in the Rift or somewhere in Turkana. Lake Turkana, you know. ” “I know. ” “That lake—everyone thinks it is very shallow. Mostly it is, but there are parts that aren’t so shallow. ” He grinned knowingly. “If we do not find it here, you and I, we will rent a submarine and look in Turkana, okay? ” Fisher smiled back. “Okay. ” 30 GREAT RIFT VALLEY, KENYA THEY’D arrived at their campsite—a flat section of beach in a gorge—in the late afternoon the day before, and though there was still four hours of daylight left, they both decided to get a fresh start the next morning.
No shouts of alarm. Fisher crept to the door and peeked around it; the hall was clear. He swung the door shut and locked it. He holstered his pistol and turned back to Legard. Time to have a chat with our white slaver. 12 FISHER’S SC pistol had a variety of dart selections, ranging from low to high in anesthetic dosage. Level three would keep a 180-pound man unconscious for ninety minutes; level two, half that; level one, fifteen to twenty minutes. Legard, whom Fisher assumed weighed nearly two hundred pounds, would take around ten minutes.
Where’d they find him? ” Lambert cleared his throat, hesitated. “Colonel? ” “We’re still working on all the details, but from what I gather, a fishing boat found him floating in a life raft in the Labrador Sea, off the coast of Greenland. He was suffering from hypothermia, barely hanging on. He was taken first to Nuuk, then to the States. ” “Greenland,” Fisher whispered. How had this happened? he wondered. Had he fallen overboard or gone over of his own accord, and if so, why? “Did any ships file a missing persons report?