By Jim DeFelice, Larry Bond
Manhattan instances bestselling authors Larry Bond and Jim DeFelice carry clean thrills and unforeseen twists during this most modern installment in their electrifying sequence, Larry Bond’s First group: Angels of Wrath.
Led by means of CIA agent par excellence Bob Ferguson, the workforce pitches in to assist the FBI examine an intensive team of zealots who are looking to create a “post-Christian” period via instigating a catastrophic showdown in Jerusalem. yet Ferg and corporate quickly observe the cult has unusual connections to the Iraqi resistance and to a Syrian hands broker. Enlisting assistance from Thera Majed, a stunning paramilitary and a professional on center jap relatives, the crew breaks as much as tune every one hyperlink. They search to prevent something catastrophic from occurring ahead of the President arrives in Iraq for the following around of elections. Their quarries lead crew contributors into an immensely complex international of fanatical terrorists, every one very likely harmful. . . yet who between them is the following to strike? doubtful of the main approaching danger, the crew reveals that they've landed in the middle of an operation headed through Israel’s recognized Mossad, and are ordered to cooperate with the Israelis . . . yet are the Israelis cooperating with them?
Unsure in their allies, the staff realizes that they're at the path of 2 totally different assaults whose objectives are hundreds of thousands of miles aside. either operations are meant to set off an enormous non secular warfare. With the clock ticking down, can the crew extinguish the spark of Armageddon?
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Additional resources for Angels of Wrath (Larry Bond's First Team, Book 2)
Apparently someone else had shortened his reaction time as well. I saw the gun barrel first, but instead of putting a foot on the skid to gain balance and see what he was shooting, this guy just pulled the trigger. Even in the roar of the wind and the rotors, the crack of the rifle was deafening. I had no place to go, nowhere to run, and bracing yourself against gunfire was impossible. If he hit me, it would hurt, and I’d fall to my death. Or maybe it would kill me instantly. Either way, I had no defense.
After the sound of the Velcro and her muttered question, no doubt the pilot was listening over the intercom and would be wondering the same thing. I didn’t have much time before he figured it out. My heart hammered hard enough to break a rib. I grasped the door handle and shoved it open. I moved quickly, not only hoping to catch the pilot off guard, but Julianne, too. Even in her state, she would resist if given the chance. Hell, I was resisting it myself. Holding the seat cushions by their built-in straps, I pulled Julianne out of her seat and looped her left arm around my shoulder and my right arm around her waist.
Then she reaches under her gown and tears the sticky pads from her skin. The machine by her bed stops beeping, giving way to a sustained tone. Like someone just died. Still no one comes. There’s a drawer next to the bed, but her clothes aren’t in it. She stands, the white tile cold under her bare feet, and pads over to the door. Opens it. This isn’t a hospital. It’s a warehouse. A big warehouse, with concrete floors, steel walls, forty-foot ceilings. There are pieces of medical equipment on carts, several tables and chairs, some cages along the far wall, and … Oh, sweet Lord.