Sidney Sheldon's Reckless by Sidney Sheldon Read Free Book Online

Bratislava, where Captain Daley was killed.
    â€œA carefully planned, covert operation took place, based on that intelligence. And yes, that operation did involve American troops briefly entering Bratislavan territory. The United States makes no apology for this action. Although it appears Mr. Drexel was moved by his captors to another location following Captain Daley’s death, we established that both men had been held in Bratislavan territory—contrary to that country’s denials of harboring terrorists. Moreover, our mission was not in vain. Scores of terrorists were killed, the same individuals responsible for Captain Daley’s barbaric murder. Regrettably six American servicemen also lost their lives.
    â€œMake no mistake. The United States remains committed to fighting the terrorists who threaten our citizens, and our security, wherever we may find them. And whatever their so-called motivations, or justifications for their actions might be. Now, there may be folks who criticize us for that. But that has always been, and remains, the policy of this administration. Group 99 are not harmless. They are not freedom fighters or champions of the poor. They are terrorists.
    â€œWe remain confident that, working with our British partners, we will locate Mr. Drexel imminently. And in the meantime his captors should know this: You can’t run. You can’t hide. We will find you and we will destroy you.”
    Major General Frank Dorrien winced and turned off the television. Havers was so dishonest, it made Frank’s teeth ache. Of course, most politicians were. But the Americans were such spectacularly glossy liars. Virtuosos of insincerity. Masters of misrepresentation.
    How he despised them!
    Frank’s thoughts turned to Hunter Drexel, the man for whom all these lies were being told. The United States had risked near total diplomatic isolation for a man who had not only run away from the soldiers sent to rescue him but who, by all accounts, was a typical, entitled journalist, interested only in his story and loyal to no one but himself. A gambler and inveterate womanizer, Hunter Drexel had left for Moscow with a string of broken hearts, angry editors and unpaid creditors in his wake. Men like that didn’t deserve to be rescued. To have brave, honest, loyal men risk their lives to save them.
    Major General Frank Dorrien was big on loyalty. Loyalty to family, to religion (Frank was brought up staunchly Church of England and considered himself a conservative with a very capital C), to his country. But above all, Frank Dorrien believed in loyalty to the British army.
    Frank would gladly die for the British army.
    He would kill for it too.
    In Frank Dorrien’s world, one did what one had to do. One did one’s duty, whatever form that took. Recently, duty had taken Frank in some unexpected directions. He’d been forced to make some difficult decisions. Distasteful decisions. But never once did he question his actions, or second-guess his superiors. That was not the soldier’s way.
    The army was Frank Dorrien’s life. He had his wife, of course, Cynthia, whom he loved. And his opera, and his roses, and the Church choir, and his books on Byzantine history. But these were all fruits of the tree. The army was the tree. Without it, Frank’s existence would be nothing but a meaningless series of days, without order or discipline or purpose.
    What was the purpose of men like Hunter Drexel? Or libertines like Group 99, revolting communists even before they started butchering people? Or women like Tracy Whitney, a thief and con artist who, for some inexplicable reason, Jamie MacIntosh appeared actually to admire?
    Not for the first time, Frank Dorrien wondered about the dissolute world in which he now found himself working. Intelligence. Never had an industry been more ineptly named.
    Still. Duty called.
    â€œWould you like a cup of tea, Frank?”
    Cynthia Dorrien’s voice