Foreign Agent by Brad Thor Read Free Book Online Page B

forced to the floor for his safety. Just as his head was pressed beneath the window line, he saw both of their motorcycle escort cops lying dead in the street.
    The agent in the forward vehicle was radioing instructions to the rest of the team as another agent alerted headquarters that they were under assault.
    They made a sharp right turn, only to discover more gunmen waiting for them. Though the vehicle was practically soundproof, Devon could hear the popping of gunfire from outside and the impact of the rounds hitting his vehicle.
    “They’re trying to funnel us!” one of the agents warned as more masked gunmen appeared at the next intersection.
    “Run it!” another yelled, encouraging the motorcade to barrel through the gunmen.
    “Jesus,” Devon’s driver cursed as he swerved, trading paint with and knocking the mirrors off three cars. “We have to get back to the boulevard! These streets are too narrow.”
    Speeding into the intersection, the driver of the lead Range Rover pulled hard on the wheel and spun right into the gunfire.
    The shooters rained down bullets on it and succeeded in cracking its windshield. Two of them were caught beneath the undercarriage and dragged.
    One was dislodged, only to be run over by the vehicle right behind. It happened so fast the driver couldn’t avoid it.
    Devon felt his heavy Range Rover lift slightly off the ground as it crushed a gunman’s body.
    At the next intersection, they readied for gunfire, but none came. They appeared to have left the shooters behind. The lead vehicle made a hard left. The others followed.
    The street was deserted, just rows of parked cars on both sides. The lead vehicle picked up speed. The others followed suit.
    They were halfway down the block when a series of massive car bombs detonated in unison.
    • • •
    From a small apartment at the end of the street, Sacha Baseyev captured all of it on camera. The killing of U.S. Secretary of Defense Richard Devon was going to be his most spectacular video yet. And it would be another nail in the coffin of ISIS.

CHAPTER 10

    T HE W HITE H OUSE
    W ASHINGTON , D.C.
    P resident Paul Porter let the moment of silence go on good and long. He wanted them to move beyond shock. He wanted them angry, like he was.
    In the wake of the pandemic, a lot of people had changed how they viewed death. Some had suffered such tremendous loss in their personal lives that they had just become numb.
    The President had suffered too. He had lost friends and acquaintances, trusted confidants and cabinet members.
    He had been forced to rebuild his team quickly. Everyone he had selected had come highly recommended. Some of them he had known before, some were completely new to him.
    Many of them were second- and even third-stringers plucked from different agencies—seat fillers until a more formal team could finally be assembled.
    Because of his leadership and handling of the crisis, the President was enjoying the highest poll numbers of his career. Even Congress, also stocked with seat fillers who had been appointed by their state governors until the next election, was working with him.
    The President knew, though, that there was a limit to all the goodwill. He also knew that bad forces remained marshaled against the United States. The business of being President, of protecting the country, didn’t stop, no matter how badly he needed to catch his breath.
    Porter looked around the table, and when he felt enough time hadpassed, he called the meeting of his National Security Council to order. The first person he looked at was his CIA Director. “What do we have?”
    Bob McGee hit a button on his laptop and the screens around the Situation Room lit up with crime scene photos. They were stamped with the logo of Turkey’s General Directorate of Security.
    “The Turks believe that up to ten terrorists may have been involved in the attack on Secretary Devon and his team. According to witnesses,” said McGee as he advanced to a new