By Don Pendleton
The elite counterterrorist team often called Stony guy has one mandate: to guard strong from evil; to split these prepared to dwell in peace from those that kill as a way to satisfy their very own time table. whilst all hell breaks free, the soldiers of Stony guy input the clash figuring out every one conflict will be their final, however the struggle opposed to freedom's oppressors will continue....
Wind of a grim conspiracy involves gentle, and the degrees of treachery cross deep into America's mystery corridors of energy. while the Cadre undertaking was once created many years in the past, it served to guard the U.S. executive in the course of the chilly struggle. Now, it's a twisted, despotic imaginative and prescient commandeered by way of a guy whose starvation for energy is unlimited, whose plan to fabricate terror and lay a fake path of blame around the globe may perhaps locate the USA heading into all-out global battle opposed to the previous superpowers.
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Extra resources for Promise to Defend (Stony Man, Book 79)
I’m in a floating pile of junk. Useless as I am, maybe I belong here. What original use the junk may have had is not obvious. Some of it seems to have been alive—animals of a sort, leaking life blood—but nothing I see is familiar. An odd feeling comes back to me, however. I’ve done this before. I know from weightless. For every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction. I’ve practiced this sort of maneuver before, often—in Dreamtime. Large masses remain dangerous even when weightless—they can crush.
The team rearranges, and together, despite my clinging, desperate hands, they drop me into a roaring tunnel. I fly through. The tunnel opens like the bell of a trumpet to a bigger space. A moist, lateral wind has taken hold of me. I’m flying. I look back and see the team of three flow one by one into the chasm. I can’t see the girl, but the three are about fifty meters behind me. We move along at the same speed. The opening vanishes behind us in the murk. The bigger space is dimly illuminated. I can finally see that it’s a conduit—another curved, circumnavigating tube, but broader, deeper.
Finally, despite the bitter cold, we all just lie flat on the smooth floor, our weight increasing, giving us better purchase. Besides, the floor is warmer than the wind. I’m almost at eye level with the omnipresent little glowing beads that faintly illuminate everything. Glims. Glim lights. The whole chamber is spinning up—or the entire Ship. I don’t know which or why in either case. I’m sick of it. All of it. If this is the way life is going to be, then I’m ready to chuck it all and freeze. But my body disagrees.