STONY MAN
An elite covert special ops team, Stony Man acts only under presidential directive. Backed by a sophisticated unit of cybernetics and weapons experts, Able Team and Phoenix Force fight terror across the globe. They operate with impunity, driven by grit and the instinct of true warriors dedicated to protecting the innocent.
TERROR TRAIL
When Peace Corps volunteers working in the jungles of Paraguay are kidnapped and brutalized by a mysterious new Islamic terrorist groupâand political maneuvering failsâStony Man gets the call. Its dual mission: an under-the-radar jungle rescue and a hunt along the Iranian shores and backstreets of Tehran for the terrorist masterminds. With the enemyâs hard-line agenda poised to fuel the powder keg of Middle East instability, Stony Man moves in against long odds that are only getting longer. Surrounded and outgunned, theyâre willing to make the ultimate sacrifice to succeed.
âWeâre talking a religious coup of incomprehensible proportions.â
âDo I smell a change in plans, then?â McCarter asked Price.
âNot for you,â she replied. âBut we wanted you to have a better idea of what youâre up against. Weâll be taking care of the rest of this through Able Team.â
âAnd how exactly do you plan to do that, if I might be so bold as to inquire?â
âWeâre sending them to Tehran to handle the matter personally,â Price said.
âWait. Let me make sure I just heard you correctly. Youâre sending Able Team into Iran?â
âYes.â
âOh, bloody hell,â McCarter said. âI donât think thatâs such a good idea.â
âWell, the decisionâs already been made by the President, and Halâs in complete agreement. I had my own reservations, but it didnât seem like the issue was up for debate. Not now anyway.â
âHave you told Able Team yet?â
CHAPTER ONE
Paraguay, South America
Sweat stung his eyes.
The collar of a khaki shirt chafed his sunburned neck.
The stifling, oppressive heat of the jungle threatened to overtake him.
His lungs burned and his legs ached with every stride.
Christopher Harland had been running through the dense jungle for the past half hour as if his life
depended on itâbecause it did. He didnât know the identity of his pursuers, but there was no doubt about what would happen if they caught him. That was all the incentive he needed to run this raceâgiving up was tantamount to a prolonged and painful death. Or worse, even, as his pursuers might actually subject Harland to the same things to which they had subjected his trusted colleagues, his friends, even a woman he loved.
Who the hell knew about their fates? He couldnât even be sure of his own at this point.
Harlandâs lungs threatened to give out on him. He heard the crash of the small armed unit as they closed the distance. He couldnât keep this pace forever. No amount of track and field at Rutgers could have prepared him for it. He could only thank his coaches now for the training, although the repeated wind sprints at the time hadnât seemed all that useful to most of the members on his team.
Harlandâs flagging endurance ceased to be a concern as he felt something snag his ankle. He stopped and turned to see what it was, but got no further in his inspectionâthe sensation of his body leaving the ground proved as distracting as it was disconcerting. The world around him seemed to swirl in a haze of reds and blacks, stars popping in front of his eyes from the abrupt change in orientation.
Harland coughed as he fought for air. It felt as if his heart might explode in his chest. Would that be such a bad way to go? Not as bad as the way heâd exit this world at the hands of the figures who emerged from the jungle shadows. Most of them were dark-skinned but not in a mestizo way. These faces implied a more exotic place of origin, most likely somewhere in the Middle East or northern Africa. Harland had learned quite a bit from his ethnic studies in college.
Harlandâs head hammered as he dangled helplessly from the tree. As he spun he could see that at least a dozen men had been chasing him. Why? Was he really a target of that importance or was it merely that they didnât want him to get away? Clearly these men were operating in secret here, although Harland couldnât imagine who they were or why theyâd be interested in him. Heâd heard the stories of Americans being kidnapped and held for ransom or missionaries murdered for proselytizing, but this situation seemed much different.
Harland opened his mouth and gulped air. He thought about speaking to them, but before he could decide his body suddenly plummeted to the ground. He cursed as putting out a hand to break his fall sent shooting pains up his wrist, resulting in what was more likely a sprain than a fracture. Either way, it hurt and he wished these men would either kill him outright or let him go instead of toying with him.