Empty Quiver -- 30th Sept.
We have a release date for the latest Team Reaper story, Empty Quiver. It is expected to grace the virtual shelves on the 30th of September.
Can't wait? I'll give you a sample of what is to come below. Enjoy.
Chapter 1
Zabul Province, Afghanistan
“Talk to me, Reaper,” Cara’s even voice filled his head, coming
through the ear-piece of his comms unit.
Six-foot-four, John ‘Reaper’ Kane, solidly built with
black hair, currently with thick stubble on his tanned face, felt a rivulet of
sweat trickle down his nose and fall through space, splashing onto the fine
dust between his feet.
More of the salty water created a runnel down his muscular
back, leaving a glistening trail over the Reaper tattoo that gave the ex-recon
marine his name. His outstretched right hand was rock-steady with a Sig Sauer
M17 handgun pointed across the cramped and stuffy room with almost impenetrable
mud-brick walls.
“Reaper, you copy?” The voice was more insistent.
Kane depressed the talk button on his comms and said,
“I’m a bit busy at the moment, Reaper Two.”
“Just so you know, our HVT is getting away in a white
SUV. If we don’t move now, we’ll lose him.”
Cara Billings, callsign Reaper Two and the team’s sniper,
was on overwatch while the rest of Team Reaper infiltrated the Zabul Province
green zone.
“Deal with it.”
“You’re not coming?”
“No.”
“What about Axe?”
“He’s busy too,” Kane said, glancing down briefly at
the thick beard of the prone figure in the deep hole at his feet, before
returning his gaze to the job at hand.
“Copy that. Out.”
“Now,” sighed Kane. “Where were we?”
“You die, infidel,” sneered a thick-bearded Afghan
insurgent, a thin bead of sweat on his brow, caused by a combination the heat
and the tense anxiety of the situation. His eyes flicked about nervously but returned
to center on Kane.
“Just hold on a moment, Ahab, before you go and clack
off that suicide vest you’re wearing. Maybe we can discuss this calmly, and perhaps
all of us can walk away alive.”
“My name is not Ahab,” the Afghani hissed. “It is
Aarash.”
“Close. I never was much good with my pronunciation.”
Kane’s team had come into Zabul Province after Fahim
Noor. Leader of the local insurgent population and owner of the majority of vast
poppy fields which provided the funds for all his activities, both at home and
abroad.
The compound had been breached by Kane and his team,
sans Cara, who was presently two-hundred meters outside the green zone on the
slope of a steep hill, the crosshairs of her scope on the white SUV containing
their high-value target.
On entry, Brick and Arenas had swept left while Kane
and Axe went in the opposite direction. Which had brought them to their current
position; facing an Afghani suicide bomber with his thumb on the trigger, while
Axe took a nap in the hole they’d found in the floor of the room.
Kane couldn’t be certain whether his friend was even
alive. He knew the big ex-recon marine sniper had taken a round; he just wasn’t
sure where.
“Ahab –”
“Aarash!” came the shouted response of the sweating
man.
Kane nodded. He could tell the man didn’t want to die.
He could almost smell the fear emanating from every pore of the darkened skin.
The Team Reaper commander nodded. “Aarash. You don’t want to die, just like me,
yeah?”
“I would die in a heartbeat for the Prophet.”
“And you will if you take your finger off that fucking
button. Think about it. Do you have a family, Aarash?”
“What about them?”
“Who will take care of them after you are gone?”
Aarash glanced at a closed door to his left. “They
will join me in Paradise.”
Son of a bitch, the crazy bastard’s family were in
the next room. “You want to kill them too?”
“If it is Allah’s will.”
“Reaper One? Zero. Copy?”
The inquiry from Kane’s immediate superior Luis
Ferrero, who also commanded the Bravo element of the Worldwide Drug Initiative,
went unanswered. A few heartbeats later, he came back again. “Reaper One? Zero.
Copy?”
Once again Kane pressed the talk button on his comms
without taking his eyes from the man before him. “Can’t talk right now, Zero.
Trying to defuse a situation.”
“What kind of situation, Reaper?”
“The kind that goes boom.”
“Do you need assistance, Reaper One?” another voice
chimed in.
“Negative, ma’am,” Kane said to General Mary Thurston.
“Assistance won’t help this time.”
“Copy. Good luck.”
“I
am through talking to you, infidel,” Aarash snarled vehemently, removing his
thumb from the red trigger button.
