Arctic Gold [With Headphones]

Arctic Gold [With Headphones]

Stephen Coonts

Language: English

Pages: 0

ISBN: 1608128229

Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub

OUT OF THE COLD In the Arctic, two American intelligence operatives are kidnapped while investigating Russian submarines―a constant, covert presence beneath the ice caps. In Washington, ex-Marine Charlie Dean and his team at Desk Three trace the abduction back to the Russian mafiya, who have their sights set on the massive reserves of oil that lie thousands of feet below the ocean’s floor. INTO THE LINE OF FIRE While Dean is sent to the Arctic to rescue the hostages, the beautiful Lia DeFrancesca penetrates a heavily guarded dacha on the shores of the Black Sea. Here she learns the explosive truth about Russia and its Arctic oil―one that could cost Dean and his Deep Black team their lives…and drive the world’s superpowers to the brink of war. “Coonts knows how to write and build suspense. . . a natural storyteller.” ― The New York Times Book Review “The master of the techno-thriller.” ― Publishers Weekly

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fast. Driven by a powerful closed-cycle thermal propulsion system, they could travel at fifty knots for up to 60 kilometers . . . or cruise at a more sedate thirty knots for a full 100 kilometers. As they sped from the Russian sub’s bow tubes, they trailed slender wires behind them, allowing the Russians to steer them toward the target. When they were close enough to acquire the target on their own, the Russians would cut them loose and they would home on the sound of the Ohio’s screw. The Ohio

Petersburg 0056 hours Dick Delallo was holding his F-22 in a gentle right turn above the Gulf of Finland when the threat receiver lit up and the warning tone sounded over his headset. “Haunted House, Ghost Blue,” he called. “The Oscar Sierra light is lit. Do you copy?” “Ghost Blue, Haunted House,” came over his headset. “Copy. You are clear to get out of Dodge. Over.” “Ah . . . roger that.” He was already tightening his turn, trying to identify the source of the threat. “On my way back to

guided Dean with a hand on his shoulder aft toward the open hatch in the deck. “Mind your skull, sir,” the man told him. “It’s a tight fit.” The hatch led down a vertical ladder to the Ohio’s forward torpedo room, where several more sailors waited to receive him. He heard some murmurs among them. “So that’s our spook, is it?” some asked. “Bond,” another voice replied with mock seriousness. “James Bond. . . .” “Shaken,” Dean told the watching sailors as he started stripping off life jacket,

but Rubens was right. She and Ilya had come here tonight to plant bugs that would give Desk Three an unparalleled window into the Tambov group’s operations. If Kotenko’s people came into the office later and found their boss dead, American intelligence would have to start all over again as some other crime family came to the fore, or as another leader within Tambov—Braslov, perhaps—took over. In the long run, they could do a lot more damage to the Russian Mafiya—and not just the Tambov group—if

small, inset diagrams. It looked important. Her Russian was good enough that she could tell it was a technical report about something called Glubahkii Koladeets, or Deep Well, and which was abbreviated elsewhere as “GK-1,” a term that seemed to refer to a specific place or base. The overall project was called Operatsiya Holodnaya Vayeena . . . Operation Cold War. She scanned down the screen quickly, trying to pick up the important bits. Work at GK-1, she saw, had been delayed by the high

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