STONY MAN
When the President hits the panic button, itâs Stony Man that answers the call. An elite, covert group, Stony Man strikes before terror can gain a foothold. The warriors of freedom understand the ultimate price andâin their mandate to protect the rights of the free nationsâwillingly meet the enemy.
SEISMIC SURGE
A plot orchestrated to destabilize the Western world has its roots in a mysterious business conglomerate with ties to Chinese conspirators. And the established battleground is a volcanic island off the coast of Spain. There, an army of multinational terrorists bound by hate and violence is about to trigger a tsunami that will wash hell across two continents. While Stony Manâs cyber-crew runs real-time command and control, Phoenix Force and Able Team launch a multipronged ground assault on the corporation behind the planned tidal wave and its ruthless backers.
âSo, not only will a tsunami wreck the U.S. East Coast...â
Hal Brognola nodded.
âBut thereâs also a renegade force in Norfolk, Virginia,â the President continued, âbeing funded and supplied by the Peopleâs Republic of China and Saudi princes.â
âAll we know right now is that an Idaho white supremacist group has targeted European tourism,â Brognola replied.
âIâve got people keeping a lid on the La Palma volcano threat,â the President said. âBut according to my staff, posts are popping up about that damn Jeopardy white paper.â
âJeopardy is an American company, so if anything does happen, it will lead back to us. No amount of money is going to cover it up.â
âThe livelihoods of millions of Americans will be destroyed by a superwave, and weâre going to take the blame for the damage.â The President narrowed his eyes. âStony Man can fix this, right?â
PROLOGUE
Bernie Jackson stowed the spare blank forms inside his folding metal clipboard, then adjusted the top inspection sheet until it sat squarely on the cold, bare metal. There had been a few too many incidents for the Occupational Safety and Health Administrationâs liking at the Heyerdal Hull Company, and the Norfolk, Virginia, plant was shut down for the day, pending the results of his OSHA teamâs observations.
Seven men had died already, and twenty more were injured due to mishaps at the plant. Heyerdalâs owners, the Jeopardy Corporation, had requested that they be allowed to clean their own house, utilizing one of their security contractors. These promises had held off the federal governmentâs agents. The fact that Heyerdal was behind some large defense contracts, developing new hulls for a low-profile patrol craft that could be used by the Navy and the Marine Corps, had been enough until the most recent âaccidentâ left two dead and seven wounded. Local constituents were demanding in Congress that the government take a closer look.
The Jeopardy Corporation tried to muddy the waters with claims of outside interference, suggesting saboteurs or espionage agents were responsible for the mayhem and death. Jeopardy owned private military contractor companies that had provided security for the U.S. government overseas in Iraq and Afghanistan, as well as for allied Middle Eastern governments. As such, they claimed that they could deal with all of this on their own.
That suggestion bubbled up in Jacksonâs memory and he had to strangle down a snort of derision.
âLike thatâs going to come up kosher,â he muttered.
âI told you, these damn corporate bigwigs act like their shit donât stink,â Gerber said. Whereas Jackson was an older African-American man, thick around the middle with the weight of advancing years and too many desserts, Gerber was in his thirties. Jacksonâs partner was, in his old Virginia way of saying things, all knees and elbows with a ginger head balanced atop a skinny neck. There was a noticeable disparity between the size of his skull and his slender frame, which was further enhanced in its awkwardness by ears that stuck out like jug handles.
Jackson looked his young partner over, shaking his head. âThe old military industrial complexâMICâconspiracy again?â
Gerber nodded avidly, his serious glare looking out of place above freckled cheeks. Jackson and a few of the older men noted that the kid, by their perspective, was what could have been the love child between two timeless comic-book teenagers. Any mention of Arch or Jugs, however, had gone over Gerberâs head, the references eliciting a blank response.
Of course, knowing the history of those comics, Gerber had probably developed a selective memory loss after having been needled over the similarity from other guys in the Navy, especially his instructors.