Operation Barracuda (Tom Clancy's Splinter Cell)
Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub
As part of a top-secret initiative called Third Echelon, National Security Agency special operative Sam Fisher has been given license to spy, steal, destroy, and assassinate to protect America. And he does...
He shakes his head. “The Far East. That I’m sure of. It could be Thailand, it could be Singapore, it could be Taiwan, maybe Hong Kong or Macau, maybe Jakarta.” “It’s interesting that Prokofiev is still here.” “He has to keep up appearances. Prokofiev’s a top general.” With that, Dagger opens a folder and removes a map. “Okay, since you want to go through with your cockamamie idea, here’s where he lives.” Dagger points to a spot on the eastern side of Moscow. “Izmaylovo. Actually between
that he’s originally from Los Angeles. We confirmed the brother’s identity, the one writing him letters. He’s a guy named Eddie Wu, a known Chinatown gangster. He’s suspected of being a major figure in one of the Triads that operates in southern California.” “Triads!” “Yes, sir. A Chinese gang that operates like the Mafia.” “I know what a Triad is. Wait, you think Mike Chan, er, Mike Wu, is working for his brother? And not the Shop?” “I don’t know. According to the letters, Eddie Wu knew all
laughed. “Something like that.” “So what is this place, anyway?” “It’s one of Ming’s many businesses. The Lucky Dragons back GyroTechnics financially but it’s a legitimate enterprise here in America. They employ top scientists from Hong Kong and China and the Lucky Dragons help to get them here. That’s my job.” “You mean it’s a means by which scientists defect from China?” “I guess you can say that. So far the authorities in China haven’t figured out where their physicists are going. That’s
causes the ten-wheeler’s driver to suddenly change lanes, I don’t know, but that’s what he does—right in front of me. With no one at the wheel, Enemy Limo wavers, finally moving on a collision course with the right rail. I desperately try to steer around the stupid ten-wheeler when the asshole slams on his brakes. I remember two things. The first is that I see someone in Enemy Limo climbing over the partition to grab the steering wheel. The second thing is the back end of the ten-wheeler in my
six feet long and approximately three feet wide. More promising is the fact that the Geiger counter is going nuts. I snap some sonar pictures of it and transmit them to Third Echelon, all the while staying above the thing. I reckon the speed to be about fifteen knots and at that rate it’ll be very near the shore in less than a half hour. “Take a dive, Sam,” Lambert says. “Anna thinks that’s it.” “Roger that.” I put the CHARC on idle, lower the face mask, and insert the rebreather into my