Danger Close Read online

  Contents

  Danger Close

  Acclaim

  Copyright Info

  Books by S.L. Shelton

  Dedication

  Dear Reader,

  Prologue

  1 - August 26th

  2 - August 27th-29th

  3 - August 30th

  September 1996

  4 - August 31st

  September 1996

  5 - September 1st

  6 - September 2nd

  7 - September 3rd

  September 1996

  8 - September 4th

  9 - September 5th

  September 1996

  10 - September 6th

  Epilogue

  Map of Turkey

  Map of Syria

  Acknowledgments

  Wolfe Trap

  Excerpt from Wolfe Trap

  Danger Close

  A Novel by

  S.L. Shelton

  The 3rd novel in the Scott Wolfe Series

  Acclaim for

  S.L. Shelton’s

  HEART-POUNDING

  Action Thrillers

  Waking Wolfe

  “Waking Wolfe is a tightly written story with engaging characters and fast-moving events… Throw in loose nukes, colorful Russian mobsters, nefarious Serbs, and some CIA guys and you’ve got yourself a thriller.”

  —Susan Hasler, Former CIA Analyst

  Author of Project: Halfsheep

  “The pages of this novel are filled with non-stop action and atmosphere so rich you feel as if you are there. Shelton is amazing at keeping tension throughout the storyline, and it was incredibly difficult to put this book down… This is an amazing debut novel. There’s no wonder why S.L. Shelton has received high praise and five-star ratings from a slew of high-profile reviewers.”

  —J.C. Wing

  Author of Alabama Skye

  “This was a great read. From the start it engaged my interest with an exciting setup that quickly drew me in… I highly recommend this book to anyone who likes spy or action thrillers. It's a roller coaster filled with great characters and nearly non-stop excitement.”

  —C.C. Bradley

  Author of Interim

  “Shelton hits the bull’s eye dead center for political espionage with Waking Wolfe… Imbued with rich detail and realistic, high-powered adventure, this action-packed, cleverly-devised plot whisks the reader along for a non-stop ride where ‘boy-next-door’ techno geek, Scott Wolfe, evolves into amateur international spy.”

  —Donna Cummins

  Author of Rain of Terror and A Reason to Kill

  “[Waking Wolfe] was one of those books where you jump in hoping for, at the very least, a semi-entertaining read, but instead end up craving more after turning the last page. Shelton's debut took me by surprise and I have to say, it was awesome.”

  —Book Addict 24-7 Reviews

  Bookaddict24-7.com

  Unexpected Gaines

  “Shelton has created in Scott Wolfe a character that may just rise in importance to the level of Tom Clancy's Jack Ryan—this story will cover a mere two weeks of time, but the action that occurs is compacted so tightly that the timeframe is soon forgotten.”

  —Grady Harp

  Amazon Top 100, Hall of Fame Reviewer

  “A gripping tale from cover to cover! Superb characters with flaws as well as heroic attributes, with a thunderous storyline that leaves you craving more! Excellent!”

  —Amazon Reviewer

  “If you liked Shelton’s first book then you will really like [Unexpected Gaines]. If you have not read his first book, then shame on you because you are depriving yourself of the chance to read one of the best new authors writing today.”

  —LTC R. Huber

  U.S. Army (Retired)

  Danger Close

  “I was a fan of this series from the very beginning. S.L. Shelton’s first novel kicked off a wildly entertaining ride, and his story just keeps getting better and better with each installment.”

  —J.C. Wing

  Author of Alabama Skye

  “Certainly a book series just waiting for the big screen… True to form, the author has given us a spy thriller with all the action needed to get our attention… S.L. Shelton leaves us ready and eager for the next adventure. Awesome.”

  —W.N. Amazon Reviewer

  Wolfe Trap

  “Wolfe Trap will grab you from the first sentence, and before you know it, you’re on the last page. The book is fast-paced and action-packed.”

  —Melissa Manes

  Author, Editor

  “I’ve spent a good deal of time with Scott Wolfe in the recent months…he’s taken me on some hair-raising adventures. None so wild as this latest one. My advice to you, fellow readers? Buckle your seat belt, hold on tight and enjoy the ride. You have no idea what’s in store for you…but I can absolutely guarantee that you’re going to love it.”

  —J.C. Wing

  Author of Alabama Skye

  Harbinger

  “S.L. Shelton is without a doubt one of the best spy/espionage novelist I have run across in a long time. I'd put his Scott Wolfe series in the same league as Lee Child's Reacher series. Fast paced, fun interactions between characters and great action.”

  —Chuck Hester

  Author

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Copyright © 2014 by S.L. Shelton

  All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever.

  Front cover, maps, and artwork contained in this book are Copyright © S.L. Shelton

  The cover image is a modified and stylized rendering that includes portions of photos obtained courtesy of the Department of Defense photo library.

  Word count 109,692

  Books by S.L. Shelton:

  Hedged

  The Scott Wolfe Series:

  Waking Wolfe

  Unexpected Gaines

  Danger Close

  Wolfe Trap

  Harbinger

  Predator’s Game

  Splinter Self (Coming 2017)

  Back story: Lt. Marsh

  Follow S.L. Shelton at:

  wolfeauthor.wordpress.com

  www.goodreads.com/WolfeWriter

  facebook.com/SLShelton.Author

  SLShelton.com

  For Mom and for Dad

  Dear Reader,

  Thank you for making the Scott Wolfe Series such a huge success, putting it into the Espionage, Political and Techno Thriller top 100 bestsellers for its main outlet, the Amazon Kindle. I watch with gratitude, overjoyed by the growing attention.

  When I started this series back in May of 2012, I had intended to write it as a multiple-point-of-view third-person novel. I quickly realized that I wanted a much more personal point of view when it came to Scott Wolfe. After rewriting the first few chapters to address that desire, I realized I was much more satisfied as an author and was encouraged to continue in that direction by my early readers.

  While it can sometimes be jarring to jump from Scott’s brain into third-person narration, I’ve taken steps to reduce those moments to “bonus” perspectives: gifts to you, the reader, to help give you a deeper awareness of what’s going on outside of Scott’s line of sight.

  I hope as you read the series, you enjoy the unfolding saga as much as I have enjoyed writing it. There is little more that an author can hope for than what you have already provided—being emotionally entangled in the lives of our characters.

  Thank you once again for taking the time to discover Scott Wolfe, and I hope tha
t if you enjoy it, you will mention it to others and post a review of your time with him. Scott and I both thank you.

  Very best regards,

  S.L. Shelton

  Author

  NOTE: Descriptions of facilities in this novel have been fictionalized for reasons of security and to reduce the number of future encounters the author might have with federal officers.

  Prologue

  September 1996 - Spotsylvania, Virginia

  THE CONTRACTOR from Black River Security walked quietly up the grassy hill from the road. The man who followed him, Roger Gallow, wasn’t so quiet.

  The contractor turned and looked at Gallow. “Could you make some more noise?” he whispered. “I don’t think they’ve heard you in town yet.”

  Gallow sneered at the man.

  Black River had been contracted to help close down a secret Defense Intelligence Agency program that was in danger of being uncovered by an investigation—a project that had been partially funded with proceeds from weapons sales by the Reagan Administration, including the Iran/Contra weapons sale.

  The money would have stayed buried and the Clinton Administration wouldn't have ever known about the program if it weren't for a horrible mission failure involving one of the test subjects. The field agent had apparently gone insane during the mission and had not only killed the intended target, but also his entire support group and the Op leader.

  After being subdued and locked up by no fewer than fifteen Special Forces troops, the crazed agent had begun tearing his ears from his skull and screaming one phrase over and over: “Nance! Get these fucking voices out of my head!”

  The investigation into the incident had begun immediately, leaving the facilitators of the secret program no choice but to end testing and quickly destroy any evidence before Congress got wind of the scandal—thus tonight’s raid.

  The contractor was part of a four-man team from Black River tasked with covering the trail—Gallow, the CEO and cofounder of GGP Labs, made five—and he was there to make sure it all went smoothly.

  After approaching a farmhouse along the banks of the Rappahannock River, the contractor peered through a window, watching a father as he sat in his garage workshop with his son. The boy was about ten years old and he was absorbed in the conversation, listening to his father describe a problem with a pump.

  “You see, I put this down by the pond and started it up to water the crops,” the father said to the son, smiling. “When I checked on it a couple of hours later, it had stopped. I tried to start it back up, but the motor had seized.”

  His son looked up at him, processing every word.

  “It’s the second time this week it’s happened,” the man continued to explain. “I disconnected the hoses, turned it over, banged on it, turned the pump by hand and then started it right up. It worked fine for a while…then it stopped again.”

  The Black River contractor moved to a different window to get a better view of the father and son. He watched as the boy reached into a toolbox and extracted a screwdriver and a handful of wrenches, before proceeding to disassemble the piece of machinery. The boy looked thoughtfully at each part after removing it and then placed each one in an arrangement in front of him on the bench.

  When every moving part had been disassembled, he looked at all the components for a long while before turning to his father.

  “The priming-hole opening is too low, and it’s creating turbulence inside the pump case,” the boy said finally. “It’s letting junk build up until it’s high enough to bind the pump wheel.”

  The father nodded knowingly.

  “It seems like a design flaw,” the boy continued after turning it sideways. “Because I don’t see any sign of a manufacturing flaw in the casing or damage to the mechanism.”

  The words belonged to someone much older and sounded strange coming from a child. When the contractor heard the boy’s response, he realized his task had just been multiplied by two.

  “Did you hear that?” he asked in a whisper, once Gallow had arrived next to him.

  “Yeah.” Gallow replied with a grim expression on his face.

  “The kid’s been exposed… We’ll have to take him as well.”

  “They didn’t say anything about kids,” Gallow replied, his voice rising too loud for the comfort of the contractor. He quickly pulled Gallow away from the window.

  “We don’t have a choice,” the contractor said in a harsh whisper. “This is containment. The boy has been exposed. We have to contain him.”

  “You can say ‘contain’ like we’re talking about a spa treatment if you want,” Gallow replied, agitated. “But I know Hank, and I’m not killing his kid.”

  “You don’t have to… That’s why I’m here. You’re only here to make it go smoothly.”

  The Black River mercenary didn’t see Gallow pulling the syringe from his pocket—one of the syringes of S28 that had been prepared for Hank’s family.

  Gallow stuck the needle into the man’s neck and depressed the plunger. The contractor whipped around, glaring at Gallow in anger. He reached for his gun, but his limbs wouldn’t cooperate—his fingers twitched but wouldn’t close around the pistol grip. After his knees failed him, he dropped to the ground, convulsing.

  “No one is killing any kids tonight,” Gallow said to the twitching figure. “It’s bad enough that we have to kill Hank.”

  The S28 that Gallow had injected would leave the man confused and absent his recent memories when he woke—that is, if he didn’t go into a vegetative state, as a few had during field trials.

  Gallow hoped for the former as he turned back toward Hank and his son, bracing for the next step—convincing Hank to go quietly.

  one

  Thursday, August 26th

  6:35 p.m.—Baku, Azerbaijan

  NICK HORIATIS watched the smoky, poorly lit room from a corner table. It was a small dive bar, and the local crowd had been slowly filtering in from the street since before afternoon prayers were called. After prayers, the place had begun to fill quickly.

  The low lighting and smoky environment helped him remain virtually invisible to the patrons, even if anyone had cared to see him. It was the sort of bar that catered to people who didn’t want to be noticed.

  “Any sign of him?” The voice of CIA Operative Charlotte Clark spoke through his covert wireless earpiece.

  A spike of agitation worked its way down his spine, but he fought it off. Instead, he shook his head gently, knowing she was watching him closely.

  He had come to the bar following a lead on a Turkish arms dealer, Adb al Malik Ukil, who had recently been dealing with a group of Bosnian Serb mercenaries. The connection was a long shot, and he wasn’t counting on it panning out. But the CIA seemed to be three steps behind the Serbs since May and the death of Jovanovich, the leader of the group. The stolen Russian nuclear warheads the Serbs had possession of weren’t getting any less dangerous as the days ticked by.

  “If he doesn’t show up in the next ten minutes, I say we bag it and call it a day,” she said. “I know you blend, but you haven’t moved in three hours…someone is going to notice.”

  Does she think I can answer her in here? Nick thought before nodding, just enough to be perceptible to her watchful eye.

  “I think I saw some AQAC opium sellers in the market a little while ago,” she said, referring to an al-Qaida affiliate group Ukil was trying to avoid. “That might have spooked him…or his buyers.”

  Ukil was in town without an invitation, trying to cut a deal with a group of radical militant Islamists while simultaneously trying to avoid the rival splinter faction of al-Qaida.

  Nick’s agitation was reaching critical mass. “Shhhhhh,” he shushed quietly, trying to get her to stop the jabber in his ear.

  He poured another cup of tea and sipped it as a new group of men came through the door, silhouetted by the light outside.

  The tea had grown cool and it wasn’t as pleasant as it had been when it was hot—the spice
had muted to almost nothing. As the door closed, he could make out the faces of the new arrivals. He set his cup down having lost his desire for the tea.

  “Nope,” Charlotte said. “He’s not with them. Looks like this is another dead end.”

  Nick nodded and stood, placing a couple of small bills on the table before stretching the tension out of his back and shoulders. He walked casually to the back of the bar, disappeared through the bathroom door, and then checked under the stall to make sure he was alone.

  “I’m about tired of the tea in this place,” he said quietly as he began relieving his bladder.

  “I know, but at least you don’t have to sit in the van. It’s hot as balls out here,” Charlotte complained into his ear. Then, after a short pause, “What are you doing?”

  “I’m taking a piss,” Nick replied indignantly though he noted his agitation level dropping significantly as the urgency in his bladder did as well.

  “And that’s another thing,” she said with a chuckle. “I filled my coffee can an hour ago and I need to pee again.”

  “Thanks for sharing,” Nick muttered. Charlotte laughed again, bringing a smile to Nick’s face.

  Just as he finished emptying his bladder, she made another noise. “Humph?”

  “What?” he asked as he zipped his fly.

  “We may’ve just gotten lucky,” she said, sounding somewhat distracted. “I think I just saw al-Malik go in.”

  “On my way back in,” Nick whispered as he hurried to the bathroom door. “Which way is he headed?”

  “The bar,” Charlotte replied crisply, back to business.

  Nick came back into the smoky room and walked toward the bar as Ukil was pulling up a stool. He inserted himself next to the man before leaning over the bar toward the bartender who had just delivered Ukil’s drink. “Bizim hesabimiz nədir?” Nick asked—“What’s the bill?”