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  RED EAGLE

  A SPECIAL AGENT DYLAN KANE THRILLER

  J. ROBERT KENNEDY

  About the Special Agent Dylan Kane Thrillers

  "Dylan Kane leaves James bond in his dust!"

  Though this book is part of the Special Agent Dylan Kane Thrillers series, it is written as a standalone novel and can be enjoyed without reading the other installments.

  What readers are saying about the Special Agent Dylan Kane Thrillers Series:

  “The action sequences are particularly well-written and exciting, without being overblown.”

  “I love how the author explains what's needed but doesn't just ramble on in narrative.”

  “Don’t mess with Kane, he takes no prisoners, especially when you target his friends.”

  “Fast paced international spy thriller with good old American values among its main characters. I'd like to think we really do have agents like Kane.”

  BOOKS BY J. ROBERT KENNEDY

  * Also available in audio

  The Templar Detective Thrillers

  The Templar Detective

  The Templar Detective and the Parisian Adulteress

  The Templar Detective and the Sergeant's Secret

  The Templar Detective and the Unholy Exorcist

  The Templar Detective and the Code Breaker

  The Templar Detective and the Black Scourge

  The James Acton Thrillers

  The Protocol *

  Brass Monkey *

  Broken Dove

  The Templar’s Relic

  Flags of Sin

  The Arab Fall

  The Circle of Eight

  The Venice Code

  Pompeii’s Ghosts

  Amazon Burning

  The Riddle

  Blood Relics

  Sins of the Titanic

  Saint Peter’s Soldiers

  The Thirteenth Legion

  Raging Sun

  Wages of Sin

  Wrath of the Gods

  The Templar’s Revenge

  The Nazi’s Engineer

  Atlantis Lost

  The Cylon Curse

  The Viking Deception

  Keepers of the Lost Ark

  The Tomb of Genghis Khan

  The Manila Deception

  The Fourth Bible

  Embassy of the Empire

  The Special Agent Dylan Kane Thrillers

  Rogue Operator

  Containment Failure

  Cold Warriors

  Death to America

  Black Widow

  The Agenda

  Retribution

  State Sanctioned

  Extraordinary Rendition

  Red Eagle

  The Delta Force Unleashed Thrillers

  Payback

  Infidels

  The Lazarus Moment

  Kill Chain

  Forgotten

  The Detective Shakespeare Mysteries

  Depraved Difference

  Tick Tock

  The Redeemer

  The Kriminalinspektor Wolfgang Vogel Mysteries

  The Colonel’s Wife

  Sins of the Child

  Zander Varga, Vampire Detective Series

  The Turned

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  Table of Contents

  The Novel

  Preface

  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

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Chapter 45

  Chapter 46

  Chapter 47

  Chapter 48

  Chapter 49

  Chapter 50

  Chapter 51

  Chapter 52

  Chapter 53

  Chapter 54

  Chapter 55

  Chapter 56

  Chapter 57

  Chapter 58

  Chapter 59

  Chapter 60

  Chapter 61

  Chapter 62

  Chapter 63

  Chapter 64

  Acknowledgments

  Don't Miss Out!

  Thank You!

  About the Author

  Also by the Author

  For Beirut’s victims of corruption.

  “Three hundred billion dollars or more has been stolen from the Russian people by [Putin]. We should expose him for what he is.”

  Tom Tugendhat UK Foreign Affairs Committee Chair March 14, 2018

  “It’s just chitchat, nonsense, nothing to discuss. They picked it out of their noses and smeared it on their pieces of paper.”

  Vladimir Putin As told to Bloomberg View columnist Leonid Bershidsky

  PREFACE

  History has repeatedly shown that power corrupts, and absolute power corrupts absolutely. Even in modern times, those given total control of their country’s treasury have proven themselves unable to resist the temptation to take from the people they rule. From Ferdinand Marcos of the Philippines to Mohamed Suharto of Indonesia, they have stolen billions from their countrymen.

  Yet none compare to the scale of the man some consider the richest in the world.

  Russian President Vladimir Putin.

  Estimates put his net-worth anywhere from $40-300 billion—staggering numbers for a man who earns a little over $100,000 a year. Experts believe much is hidden in his multiple yachts and palaces, holdings in oil, gas, and financial companies, and other hard assets, including an extensive watch collection. However, even that can’t account for the vast majority of that stolen from the Russian people.

  Meaning much is sitting in anonymous accounts at financial institutions located in jurisdictions around the world that allow such things.

  And as past experience has shown, bank accounts can be accessed without authorization, leaving a question begging for an answer.

  What would happen if someone found Putin’s hidden billions?

  1 |

  Helsinki, Finland

  Leif Morrison, National Clandestine Services Chief for the CIA, put down his coffee and regarded his companion, a woman he had first encountered decades ago at the beginning of his career. She was now in the twilight of hers, and all indications suggested she had no interest in retiring, despite the fact she was eligible for a full pension.

  She loved her work as much as he did.

  There was something about protecting one’s country that was highly satisfying. The average American had no idea about the threats out there, and many scoffed at the bits and pieces that did reach the public, sometimes through leaks, other times through reports provided to Congress. Conspiracy theories that made the rounds on the Internet were often based upon kernels of truth, however, by the time the nutbars finished with them, the
y were mostly hogwash. But those sites so popular with the tinfoil-hat crowd had CIA staff continually monitoring them, searching for that kernel.

  And apparently, the woman sitting across from him, Beverly Thorn, had found such a kernel.

  “Is it credible?”

  She nodded. “I trust the source.”

  “Can you tell me who it is?”

  She shook her head. “It’s best you don’t know until we have the intel.”

  “You realize they’ll kill every one of us if they find out.”

  “I have no doubt.”

  Morrison chewed his cheek. “It would give us tremendous leverage, but using it could be considered an act of war.”

  She stared at him, her head slowly bobbing. “I’ve considered this, which is why I came to you. If we move forward and we’re discovered, it has the potential to end everything.”

  Morrison tensed, for what she was saying wasn’t hyperbole—this did have the potential of ending everything, if her contact did indeed have the information he claimed. The implications were jaw-dropping, but he questioned whether it could ever be used, for if they acted upon it, it could mean Russia, a nuclear state led by an elected dictator, would be the one most affected.

  Out of the corner of his eye, he caught one of his security detail pressing his finger against his ear, concern in his eyes. Thorn had said time was too critical for her to travel back home to meet, so he had come to her, much to the annoyance of his security detail.

  He activated his comm. “Control, this is Viper. Report.”

  Analyst Supervisor Chris Leroux, Control for this mission, immediately replied. “Viper, Control Actual. We spotted a vehicle moving into the area at a high rate of speed. It could be nothing, but stand by for possible evacuation, over.”

  “Copy that.”

  Thorn’s eyes darted to his ear. “Problem?”

  “Probably nothing, but get ready, just in case.”

  She smiled slightly. “These old bones are long past the days of running. I’m sure your people can handle any problems.”

  Morrison frowned. “And yet you refuse to retire.”

  She shrugged. “I have too many agents that I am responsible for. They’re like my children. I couldn’t bear to see them handed off to somebody who didn’t know them as well as I do.”

  He understood. Dealing with life-and-death situations was part of his daily routine. The death of agents wasn’t common. There were only 133 stars on that wall at Langley, but every single one of them was a tragedy.

  “Viper, Control Actual. The vehicle has turned. False alarm.”

  “Copy that, Control.”

  He smiled at Thorn. “Looks like it was nothing.”

  One of his detail standing in the far corner of the café dropped, then another. A window shattered to his right and he spun to see two more down. He rose and grabbed the edge of the table, tossing it on its side, then grabbed Thorn, pulling her to the floor. He draped himself over her, becoming a human shield as those that remained in his detail shouted around him, making it clear they had no idea from where the shots were coming.

  He tapped his earpiece. “Control, this is Viper, we’re under attack!”

  “Copy that, Viper. Watchdog is already en route.”

  “Do you have eyes on the shooters?”

  “Negative. We think the shots are coming from across the street.”

  Morrison checked the room. “Six of my detail are down.”

  “We recommend you attempt to escape through the rear entrance, as previously briefed.”

  “Roger that.” He turned to Thorn. “We’re going to lose this. We’re going out the rear. Are you ready?”

  She nodded, not a hint of fear in her eyes, and he envied her, as his pulse was racing. It had been a long time since he was in the field, longer still since someone had shot at him, and he wasn’t a fan of it. A hand on his shoulder had him spinning, preparing to defend himself. He relaxed slightly as he recognized one of his detail.

  “We have to get you out of here, sir!”

  Two shots slammed into the young man and he dropped, a pool of blood quickly spreading out from his neck. Morrison grabbed the man’s gun then reached into the downed man’s pocket, retrieving two spare magazines. He grabbed Thorn by the wrist. “Ready?”

  “Yes.”

  He rose, pulling her to her feet, and placed a hand on the back of her neck as he guided her toward the rear entrance. The lone remaining member of his detail, his weapon aimed at an unknown enemy, rushed toward him to provide cover.

  He dropped silently to the ground.

  “Viper, Control, we have activity at the front and rear.”

  Morrison cursed. “Copy that. Recommendations?”

  “Sir, your backup is two minutes away. They’re not going to make it in time.”

  “How many hostiles?”

  “Four in the front, two in the rear, approaching rapidly, plus an unknown number in the vehicles that are now arriving at the front.”

  Morrison glanced over his shoulder and saw two large SUV’s screech to a halt. “This is it,” he said to Thorn. “How do you want this to go down?”

  She smiled slightly. “I’m prepared to die if you are.”

  He stared at the woman with admiration. “You haven’t changed a bit since the day I first met you.”

  She reached out and patted his cheek. “And you’ve become the man I always knew you could be.”

  Leroux’s voice broke in. “Sir, we recommend you lay down your weapons and surrender.”

  “They want us to surrender,” relayed Morrison to Thorn.

  She shook her head. “Under no circumstances can I fall into their hands. Shoot me if you have to.”

  His stomach flipped. “To hell with that.” He grabbed her and ran toward the back, preferring to face two hostiles rather than at least six. As he reached the door, he could hear the footfalls of their pursuers. He slammed the door shut behind them then grabbed a broom, sticking it in the handle. They reached the end of the short hall, and as he approached the door, Leroux guided him.

  “Two hostiles, one standing against the wall to the immediate right of the door, the other across the street at your eleven-o’clock from the door.”

  “Copy that.”

  Morrison aimed his weapon to the right of the frame, the wall appearing to be wood. He squeezed the trigger twice as Thorn yanked open the door. He came through, firing three rounds, one of them catching the second target.

  “You’re clear for the moment, sir. Go left. Backup is one minute—sir, you’ve got company behind you!”

  Morrison spun, emptying his mag, sending their pursuers diving to the ground or retreating within the café. If they could make it to the end of the alley they were in, they might just stand a chance, but Thorn was far too slow, and the pace they were making was barely a jog.

  “Sir, you’re about to be blocked off.”

  Morrison’s head spun to the left, searching for any place to escape. He spotted a door and pulled Thorn toward it. He tried the handle but found it locked.

  He fired three rounds into the lock then kicked the door open. He pushed Thorn inside and was about to follow her when something that felt like a two-by-four hit him in the back twice. He dropped to the ground and Thorn turned, shocked. She reached out and he shook his head, instead handing her the weapon then the spare magazines.

  “Run!” he yelled before collapsing. As he gasped for breath, praying his vest had stopped both rounds, he activated his comm. “ETA on that backup.”

  “Thirty seconds—”

  He cut Leroux off as heavy footfalls echoed through the alley. “Chris, tell my wife and kids that I love them, and that I’m sorry.”

  Thorn stepped over him and opened fire, her weapon quickly spent. She reloaded, firing several rounds from their last mag as tires squealed at the end of the street, and he prayed it was their backup finally arriving. His eyes widened as a shadow emerged from behind Thorn, from within t
he building they had sought refuge. He opened his mouth to shout a warning when an arm wrapped around his friend, hauling her into the darkness. She screamed and threw him the weapon. It clattered to the ground, out of reach. He stretched out for it when a boot pressed against his back and two more shots slammed into him, leaving no doubt this time that the vest hadn’t done its job.

  As the life drained from him, Thorn shouted something, and he struggled to hear the words.

  “Red Eagle! Red Eagle!”

  And as he blacked out, he managed to deliver her final message with his last words. “Red Eagle.”

  2 |

  Operations Center 3, CIA Headquarters Langley, Virginia

  Analyst Supervisor Chris Leroux and his team sat in stunned silence in the aftermath of witnessing the execution of their boss and the slaughter of an entire team of eight. His stomach churned as his pulse pounded in his ears. He had never presided over a mission that had failed this badly before, and had certainly never had so many friendlies die on his watch.

  He didn’t know what to do.

  “Control, Watchdog, we’re taking fire!”

  Leroux shoved his emotions deep down as reality flooded back. He jumped to his feet and headed for the displays at the front of the room. Sonya Tong, his most senior analyst, had already brought up satellite footage showing the backup team arriving. The vehicle had come to a halt at an angle, gunfire riddling it, the only thing saving them the heavy armor plating. “Watchdog, Control. Fall back! I repeat, fall back!”

  The vehicle’s backup lights lit and then it rapidly reversed, the gunfire they were taking stopping immediately. He spun toward his team in the state-of-the-art operations center at CIA headquarters in Langley, Virginia, and pointed behind him at the displays arcing across the entire front of the room. “I want every eye we’ve got on that area. Where did they take her?” He turned to the team’s wunderkind, Randy Child. “And find out what the hell Red Eagle means.”