By John Gilstrap
"If you love Vince Flynn and Brad Thor, you'll love John Gilstrap."—Gayle Lynds
"My favourite tricky man hero is back." —Jeffery Deaver
"One of the best mystery writers at the planet." —Tess Gerritsen
Assassins have eradicated a Chechen scientist who's been operating as a double agent for the U.S. govt. The feds understand who to name: Jonathan Grave and his elite rescue staff. Their venture: locate the lifeless man's teenage son, who's at the run—and off the grid—with the most important info that must never fall into the incorrect arms. There's one challenge: the boy's bodyguard is a safety professional with strange skills, and she's no longer giving up and not using a struggle. basically via bringing them either again alive can Grave divulge the traitor within the maximum degrees of power—and hinder an all-out nuclear struggle.
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Extra info for End Game (Jonathan Grave, Book 6)
The mount captain laughed heartily beneath his steel hel met, elbowing the sailor sitting next to him, then said in a deep voice, “You ain’t no newbie, sir. Don’t let Mr. Tremain fool you here, boys. ” “Maybe. ” The mount captain raised an open palm. “I know all about it. You submariners can’t talk about nothing. You’ve probably sunk more ships than Smitty here’s ever set eyes on, but you can’t tell us a lick about it. I know, I know, the silent service and all that hoo-hah! Well, don’t you worry none, Commander.
Blinking signal lamps ﬂashed from their superstructures as signalmen on the darkened bridges translated and relayed messages back and forth between ships. “The situation seems pretty cut-and-dry,” McCandles con tinued. “The Japanese are going to try to pull their troops off Vella LaVella tonight. I guess they’re ﬁnally going to give up that little scrap of an island. They’re all set to abandon it, but you know what that means, don’t you, Jack? It means they’ll leave Vella LaVella tonight and tomorrow we’ll ﬁnd them burrowed in on the next island up the Slot.
All obstruc tions had been long since cleared away, all potential obstacles to damage control parties stowed away, all watertight and ﬂood control doors fastened shut. Her three-hundred-odd sailors—some bedecked in bulky salt-stained life vests, some in cumbersome steel gray helmets, some shirtless—assembled SINK THE SHIGURE 31 at their various battle stations inside and out of the destroyer’s 376-foot hull, waiting anxiously for the inevitable encounter with the as yet unseen enemy. Like her two cohorts, the Chevalier was made for war, with nearly every piece of equipment above her waterline devoted to that end.