Black Ops veteran Leo J. Maloney delivers a high-level thriller that spans the globe, changes the game, and raises the threat level to all-out, worldwide destruction . . .
THREAT LEVEL ALPHA
They strike without warning, in key locations around the world. In Russia, a Soviet-era storage facility is raided by terrorists. In the Phillipines, an important international conference is under siege. In the United States, Dan Morgan is stalked by Russian agents. And at Berkeley, Morgan’s daughter is kidnapped with other students and taken to a remote laboratory. The attacks are neither coincidental nor random. They are part of a carefully orchestrated plan by a new and merciless organization. As Zeta Division struggles to make sense of the international chaos, Dan Morgan races to stop a deadly biochemical weapon—one that Morgan’s daughter is being forced to help build . . .
Highest Praise for Leo J. Maloney and his thrillers
Arch Enemy
“Utterly compelling! This novel will grab you from the beginning and simply not let go. And Dan Morgan is one of the best heroes to come along in ages.”
—Jeffery Deaver
Twelve Hours
“Fine writing and real insider knowledge make this a must.”
—Lee Child
Black Skies
“Smart, savvy, and told with the pace and nuance that only a former spook could bring to the page, Black Skies is a tour de force novel of twenty-first-century espionage and a great geopolitical thriller. Maloney is the new master of the modern spy game, and this is first-rate storytelling.”
—Mark Sullivan
“Black Skies is rough, tough, and entertaining. Leo J. Maloney has written a ripping story.”
—Meg Gardiner
Silent Assassin
“Leo Maloney has done it again. Real life often overshadows fiction and Silent Assassin is both: a terrifyingly thrilling story of a man on a clandestine mission to save us all from a madman hell bent on murder, written by a man who knows that world all too well.”
—Michele McPhee
“From the bloody, ripped-from-the-headlines opening sequence, Silent Assassin grabs you and doesn’t let go. Silent Assassin has everything a thriller reader wants—nasty villains, twists and turns, and a hero—Cobra—who just plain kicks ass.”
—Ben Coes
“Dan Morgan, a former black ops agent, is called out of retirement and back into a secretive world of politics and deceit to stop a madman.”
—The Stoneham Independent
Termination Orders
“Leo J. Maloney is the new voice to be reckoned with. Termination Orders rings with the authenticity that can only come from an insider. This is one outstanding thriller!”
—John Gilstrap
“Taut, tense, and terrifying! You’ll cross your fingers it’s fiction—in this high-powered, action-packed thriller, Leo Maloney proves he clearly knows his stuff.”
—Hank Phillippi Ryan
“A new must-read action thriller that features a double-crossing CIA and Congress, vengeful foreign agents, a corporate drug ring, the Taliban, and narco-terrorists…a you-are-there account of torture, assassination, and double-agents, where ‘nothing is as it seems.’”
—Jon Renaud
“Leo J. Maloney is a real-life Jason Bourne.”
—Josh Zwylen, Wicked Local Stoneham
“A masterly blend of Black Ops intrigue, cleverly interwoven with imaginative sequences of fiction. The reader must guess which accounts are real and which are merely storytelling.”
—Chris Treece, The Chris Treece Show
“A deep-ops story presented in an epic style that takes fact mixed with a bit of fiction to create a spy thriller that takes the reader deep into secret spy missions.”
—CyHilterman, Best Sellers World
“For fans of spy thrillers seeking a bit of realism mixed into their novels, Termination Orders will prove to be an excellent and recommended pick.”
—Midwest Book Reviews
Books by Leo J. Maloney
The Dan Morgan Thriller Series
TERMINATION ORDERS
SILENT ASSASSIN
BLACK SKIES
TWELVE HOURS*
ARCH ENEMY
FOR DUTY AND HONOR*
ROGUE COMMANDER
DARK TERRITORY*
THREAT LEVEL ALPHA
WAR OF SHADOWS
DEEP COVER
*e-novellas
Threat Level Alpha
A Dan Morgan Thriller
Leo J. Maloney
LYRICAL UNDERGROUND
Kensington Publishing Corp.
www.kensingtonbooks.com
Copyright
To the extent that the image or images on the cover of this book depict a person or persons, such person or persons are merely models, and are not intended to portray any character or characters featured in the book.
LYRICAL UNDERGROUND BOOKS are published by
Kensington Publishing Corp.
119 West 40th Street
New York, NY 10018
Copyright © 2018 by Leo J. Maloney
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without the prior written consent of the Publisher, excepting brief quotes used in reviews.
All Kensington titles, imprints, and distributed lines are available at special quantity discounts for bulk purchases for sales promotion, premiums, fund-raising, educational, or institutional use.
Special book excerpts or customized printings can also be created to fit specific needs. For details, write or phone the office of the Kensington Sales Manager: Kensington Publishing Corp., 119 West 40th Street, New York, NY 10018. Attn. Sales Department. Phone: 1-800-221-2647.
Lyrical Underground and Lyrical Underground logo Reg. US Pat. & TM Off.
First Electronic Edition: December 2018
ISBN-13: 978-1-5161-0331-7 (ebook)
ISBN-10: 1-5161-0331-9 (ebook)
First Print Edition: December 2018
ISBN-13: 978-1-5161-0332-4
ISBN-10: 1-5161-0332-7
Printed in the United States of America
Contents
Highest Praise for Leo J. Maloney and his thrillers
Books by Leo J. Maloney
Threat Level Alpha
Copyright
Contents
Dedication
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Epilogue
War of Shadows
Chapter One
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Dedication
I would like to dedicate this book to all the brave men, women, and animals who serve in our Armed Forces and make so many sacrifices to keep us and our great country safe. I also want to recognize all the police officers, firefighters and other first responders. Thank you all for your service.
Prologue
Dan Morgan had just entered his home office when his phone beeped. The alert sound told him two things: it was Lincoln Shepard, and it was urgent.
Morgan didn’t even open the text. Instead, he dialed Shep’s number. If the news was what he thought it was, he’d be damned if he read it on the screen of his phone. The other man answered on the first ring and didn’t make him wait for the news. “We’ve located the Package.”
For a moment, Morgan did something he almost never did—he hesitated. Then he took a breath. “Have you confirmed that it’s…authentic?”
“It looks like the real thing all right,” Shep said. Morgan could hear the pride in his voice. “I’d have to see it in person for final confirmation.”
“Was it in…?”
“Mexico,” Shepard finished for him. “You were right. Turns out that if you’re searching for something that isn’t supposed to exist, it helps to know where to start. I’ll send you the location. How soon can you be there?”
“I’m on my way,” Dan said. He was already moving, taking the back staircase up to the master bedroom, where he grabbed a suitcase already packed with a few days’ worth of clothes and essentials.
His wife Jenny came to his side. “I assume you’ll be needing this,” she said, holding his passport.
“I will,” Dan said. “Honey, we found it…”
“Are you sure?” she asked.
“Yes.”
“Are you telling Diana you are going after it?” Jenny asked.
“There’s no time for approval. For now this is need-to-know. And she doesn’t need to know, not yet.”
Strictly speaking, that wasn’t true. Diana Bloch ran Zeta Division, the secret, private intelligence organization that employed Morgan. For this operation, he would be diverting a number of Zeta resources: Shep’s and his team’s time, for one—and then there were the expenses involved.
“You just don’t like to ask for permission,” Jenny said. It was an observation, not a question. Dan didn’t argue the point.
“We just can’t wait. Any delay increases the risk that we’ll lose it,” Morgan said.
“It’s been sitting wherever it is for, what? More than 40 years? And you don’t want to waste time on a conversation, or, God forbid, a meeting…”
“You know me so well,” Dan said, kissing her and heading out the door. “I’ll be just a few days. Whatever happens, don’t tell Alex. I’ll tell her myself when the time is right.”
Dan was long past worrying about Alex finding out that his job as a classic muscle car dealer was just a cover—that his real job was with Zeta Division, where he put his experience as a black ops agent with the CIA to work.
Alex had learned the truth more than two years ago. And, more to the point, she now worked for Zeta herself, so that jig was definitely up.
Nevertheless, for his entire adult life, Morgan’s work had required him to keep secrets. These days he didn’t have many that he kept from his daughter, or his wife, for that matter, but this is one he had to keep—at least for now.
Seven hours later, Morgan and Shepard pulled up to the site in a rental. They were less than an hour from dusk, but neither wanted to wait until tomorrow to see it for themselves.
Their contact met them at the front of the junkyard and introduced himself as Dave. He was a young American in maybe his early thirties, one of the contractors Zeta used to move important items into or out of the country.
The place had just closed, but after a brief conversation, the junkyard’s proprietor unlocked the gate just as Dave directed a large, white truck inside.
Morgan was pleased; he didn’t like the idea of waiting until tomorrow to move the Package. He would feel better when they had it in their possession and back in the States.
The led them into the junkyard. From inside, it seemed endless. There were long rows of old cars. Out of habit, Morgan found himself identifying the models and years of each vehicle and part. Mixed in with the cars were rusting helicopters and planes, as well as electronics and more than a few pieces of military hardware.
Morgan saw Shepard looking wide-eyed at some of the exotic pieces of equipment they passed. No doubt the younger man would have loved to get lost in this endless sea of technology, but to his credit, he stayed focused on their mission.
After ten minutes of walking, they turned into another row and there it was…
It sat almost completely inside what was essentially a hollowed-out bus. That was good; the roof of the bus had protected it from the elements. Forty-plus years’ worth of rain had barely touched it.
Dave spoke first. “Um, that is why we’re here?”
“That is exactly why we’re here,” Morgan replied.
“You called me and my crew out for this? I mean, it’s just a car, and an old one.” Morgan winced and saw Shepard do the same. “Even if it’s worth a few bucks it can’t be worth what you are paying me. And this was a rush,” Dave continued.
Shepard gasped but Morgan just shook his head.
“Just load it up,” Morgan said.
Chapter 1
Three Months Later
Over the Pacific Ocean
The aircraft alarm beeped, and Dan Morgan checked the clock on the fuselage wall.
“That’s our cue,” he said, as he reached for his helmet.
“Copy that,” Peter Conley replied.
Both men put on their helmets, which seemed like they belonged on a space suit—with a hardened top and a bubble of glass in front of the face for visibility. They were also surprisingly lightweight, with a roughly triangular aerodynamic shape that got smaller toward the back of the “head.”
Morgan had watched Lincoln Shepard designing them in his lab. It was half a day’s work that Shepard would never think about again, but Morgan suspected that it was probably better than anything else used in civilian or military high altitude jumps.
Once Morgan had fastened the helmet to his neck seal, he was breathing pure oxygen instead of the standard oxygen, nitrogen, and carbon dioxide mix in the plane’s hold. It was supplied by hoses than ran from the wall of the plane to the back of their helmets.
The first few breaths made him lightheaded, but Dan Morgan adjusted to the pure oxygen. They would be on it for the next forty-five minutes. It would take that long for the nitrogen to be purged completely from their bloodstreams. Otherwise, when their plane hit the extreme low pressure of the stratosphere, any nitrogen in their blood would boil and the mission would be over before it began.
Though the helmet was cutting edge, their jumpsuits were standard high altitude jump gear. They offered some protection from the cold, but not enough. The safer and more comfortable option would have been to perform the jump with full pressure suits, but that would add weight and would make it much harder to reach the landing target. And more weight on their bodies meant fewer weapons and ammo strapped to them—which would cause other problems later. So Morgan and Conley had decided that the lower the weight in the air, the greater the chance of success on the ground. The important thing here was that they had a choice.
Diana Bloch had presented them with the mission objectives; the details were left up to them. When asking people to risk their lives, it was the only way to do business as far as Dan was concerned.
But that was not the way they did things at the CIA, which was one of the many reasons why Dan and that institution had parted ways.
The plane rocked from turbulence. Morgan and Conley were strapped into the
jump seats that lined the sides of the fuselage. However, the NSA guy in a suit who was sitting behind a desk—and safely behind thick Plexiglas near the front of the plane—was nearly knocked off his seat in front of the computer monitor he was studying.
“You okay up there?” Morgan said.
He felt Conley’s eyes on him. He didn’t have to look to see his friend was giving him a dirty look that said—leave the kid alone.
“You might want to strap in,” Morgan said helpfully.
“Um, I’m okay, Cobra,” the young man said, using Morgan’s code name. He was in maybe his mid-twenties and wore a suit, with his NSA badge clipped to his lapel.
“Next time make sure they give you a seat belt,” Morgan said.
He felt Conley elbow him in the side and gave his friend an innocent look.
“Yes sir,” the kid said. Morgan remembered his name: Stevens.
Morgan didn’t have anything against the kid, except for the fact that he was sitting in heated, fully-pressurized comfort while Morgan and Conley froze their butts off in the jump section of the plane.
“It will get easier when we hit our altitude. Not enough air at 40,000 feet to make turbulence,” Morgan said.
Of course, at that point things would get tricky for the agents. It would start to get really cold in the back of the plane. It was heated—sort of—but when the air got that thin, the heaters couldn’t heat what wasn’t there. And, still, that was nothing compared to what they would feel when they jumped out of a perfectly good aircraft.
At that point, Stevens would still be sitting in comfort while Morgan and Conley plummeted out of the plane, freezing their butts off even more.
Come to think of it, Morgan did have something against the kid.
The pilot increased their altitude gradually. Forty-five minutes later, as if on cue, the ride smoothed and Morgan knew they had hit the stratosphere.
Though the turbulence was gone, the plane banked frequently, which Morgan knew was necessary to avoid the line of sight of the Chinese satellites overhead.
“Approaching Tibetan airspace, sirs,” Stevens said, still a little green around the gills from the recent maneuvers. “Ten minutes until our mark.”
Threat Level Alpha Page 1