Blacklist Aftermath (Tom Clancy's Splinter Cell, Book 7)
Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub
A continuing video-game tie-in novel series "created by" Tom Clancy, but written by various authors under the pseudonym David Michaels until this most recent one written by Peter Telep.
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Sam Fisher must save one man's life to save his own country.
Eccentric billionaire Igor Kasperov owns one of the most influential and successful anti-virus software companies in the world. But when the Kremlin orders him to unleash a catastrophic computer virus against the United States, he is forced to flee for his life.
Sam Fisher and Fourth Echelon are charged with finding Kasperov and presenting the American president's offer for political asylum. Because there are others looking for Kasperov. And the only thing they will offer him is a swift death...
his foster parents in a little town called Vilcha; it’s right there in the exclusion zone.” “So he’s gone back to a contaminated town to what, reminisce?” “No, here’s where it gets good. Security’s tight, like I said. You don’t get past the checkpoint without papers. So I talked to my friends at SAEZ, and they issued a temporary contractor’s clearance pass to a man named . . . wait for it . . . Glib Lakeev.” “That’s one of Kestrel’s aliases.” “Bingo. And according to my contacts at SAEZ, he
determinedly at the SMI’s screen. She brought up a 378-page Oak Ridge National Lab report on the thorium stockpile in Nevada, and Fisher scanned a bar graph over her shoulder. There were 3,500 tons of thorium stored in 21,585 metal drums. Each drum weighed an average of 330 pounds. The United States owned 18,924 drums of monolithic material, India had 760 of granulated pebbles, and France had 1,901 of dry powder all stored at the same site, buried in the side of a mountain. Not a second after
and toward a dirt lot behind a row of warehouses. From there, Charlie switched to the ghost truck’s dash cam, where the driver tapped a command into his keyboard, hit the panic button, then hopped out of the cab. The SMI next lit up with similar traffic cam footage from the other trucks scattered across the United States, all seven being directed to areas away from the highway to disable their vehicles. Fisher watched one driver in Chattanooga, Tennessee, and the SMI noted that a detonation
thought, he and the Snow Maiden were thrown once more into the opposite wall as the HEP car fishtailed brutally to the right, booted by more cars piling up behind it, the reverberation like a legion of thunderheads vying for attention and drumming across the tracks. More sand spat into their faces, and Fisher was momentarily blinded, reaching out now for the Snow Maiden, wary that she might have another pistol or knife at the ready. A short bang came from nearby, shaking the car; it was
here to dismantle this thing.” “We’re on it.” Fisher sighed and bounded back up the pile of sand to where the Snow Maiden was still lying. As he began to lift her, Briggs appeared in the shattered door window above them, his face half obscured by the penlight he directed into the booth. “Sam?” “I’m here. You okay? What the hell happened?” “Those choppers launched Hellfires at the tracks. The engineer’s dead. I jumped off like a second before it all went to hell.” Briggs shifted his light. “Oh