Overwatch
A Thriller
(Sprache: Englisch)
When Logan West answers a dead man's phone he triggers a global race against the clock to track down an unknown organization searching for an Iraqi artefact which could draw the US into a major conflict with Iran.
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When Logan West answers a dead man's phone he triggers a global race against the clock to track down an unknown organization searching for an Iraqi artefact which could draw the US into a major conflict with Iran.
Klappentext zu „Overwatch “
"A former Marine himself, Betley proves himself an able heir to the throne held by the likes of Brad Thor and the late, great Vince Flynn....Not to be missed" (The Providence Journal).When Logan West impulsively answers a dead man's ringing phone, he triggers a global race against the clock to track down an unknown organization searching for an Iraqi artifact that is central to a planned attack in the Middle East-one that will draw the United States into a major conflict with Iran.
Logan, a former Marine officer, is quickly contracted as a "consultant" to assist the FBI as part of a special task force bent on stopping the shadowy operatives, whatever the cost. The battles are nonstop, from the plains of the Midwest, to mansions in northern Mexico, to the war-torn Al-Anbar province, pitting an international team against trained mercenaries employed by the world's largest private security contractor...whose owner has a personal vendetta against the US government. Meanwhile, Logan is battling his own demons, especially the trauma of the ambush that his Force Recon unit suffered at an insurgent torture compound in Fallujah in 2004, which threatens to destroy everything he holds dear.
With high-stakes and fully-realized characters, Overwatch is a thriller unlike any you've read before: deftly plotted, up-to-the-minute, and impossible to put down.
Lese-Probe zu „Overwatch “
Overwatch CHAPTER 1 ANNAPOLIS, MD
29 OCTOBER 2008
Logan West opened his bloodshot green eyes as he emerged from unconsciousness. Light pierced his vision, and pain lanced through his head like a sharp knife. His forehead throbbed relentlessly as the brightness slowly dimmed.
He was facedown on the carpeted floor of his basement, his left arm stretched out above his head. He turned his wrist to look at his watch. It was almost one thirty in the afternoon.
I remember the first whiskey sometime around six o'clock, but there's no way this is from only last night. Oh God . . .
With a dawning sense of horror, he realized he'd lost at least forty hours. A whole day? I've never blacked out that long before. It's getting worse.
He struggled to his knees, his right arm fully extended, bracing himself for a fall that didn't come. A wave of nausea washed over him. This is going to be a bad one, he thought. He felt the acrid bile rising in his throat when he heard a disembodied voice from across the room. "I was wondering when you were going to wake up. I've been waiting all night."
The voice had the effect of ice-cold water thrown in Logan's face, instantly suppressing the nausea and clearing his cloudy mind. He turned his head to look at the intruder, his mind feverishly working to regain its bearings.
The man was smiling as he leaned against the long marble-top bar fifteen feet from Logan. He appeared to be Hispanic, in his late twenties or early thirties. His hair was black and cropped closely, almost in a military manner but without the sides shaved to the skin. He wore a white long-sleeved thermal tee shirt under a black polo, as if trying to hide his muscular frame. His dark-brown eyes curiously assessed Logan, and although the man appeared relaxed, his overall demeanor presented a different picture. A neon sign flashed in the darkened street of Logan's mind. This man's a professional. And then . . . More importantly, he's a threat.
A
... mehr
multitude of questions ricocheted in Logan's head. None of them mattered. Logan knew the intruder wasn't here to nurse him back to health. "Who the hell are you?" He wobbled on his hands and knees.
"That's not important," the man responded. The smile faded to reveal the hard interior beneath the cool facade. "But what is important-extremely important-is that you have something we want. Let me rephrase: need." Logan's unease grew at the man's tone. "And as soon as you get your sorry ass off that floor, you're going to tell me where it is." The certainty in the man's voice triggered the final alarms in Logan's head.
Logan West, relapsing alcoholic, was still a man who, once committed to anything-a plan, a promise, an ideal-was relentless in its pursuit. He evaluated a situation so rapidly that his former platoon sergeant had repeatedly accused him of acting recklessly; however, in each of those former situations, Logan's judgment had always proven correct and above reproach. He just understood and saw things before others did.
Unfortunately, that was before alcohol had forced its insidious way into every aspect of his life, including his decision-making abilities. Had he been completely sober, the rational part of his mind might have stopped him, but Logan West hadn't been himself for months, and this afternoon was no different. This time, his platoon sergeant would've been correct. He acted before thinking.
He launched himself across the basement floor like a sprinter out of the starting block. His speed caught the intruder off guard-but only slightly. As Logan covered the distance in four long strides, a long blade appeared in the man's right hand.
Logan was almost upon the man, his left shoulder raised and his right arm at his waist, both hands in fists. As he gained momentum, he moved his head to the le
"That's not important," the man responded. The smile faded to reveal the hard interior beneath the cool facade. "But what is important-extremely important-is that you have something we want. Let me rephrase: need." Logan's unease grew at the man's tone. "And as soon as you get your sorry ass off that floor, you're going to tell me where it is." The certainty in the man's voice triggered the final alarms in Logan's head.
Logan West, relapsing alcoholic, was still a man who, once committed to anything-a plan, a promise, an ideal-was relentless in its pursuit. He evaluated a situation so rapidly that his former platoon sergeant had repeatedly accused him of acting recklessly; however, in each of those former situations, Logan's judgment had always proven correct and above reproach. He just understood and saw things before others did.
Unfortunately, that was before alcohol had forced its insidious way into every aspect of his life, including his decision-making abilities. Had he been completely sober, the rational part of his mind might have stopped him, but Logan West hadn't been himself for months, and this afternoon was no different. This time, his platoon sergeant would've been correct. He acted before thinking.
He launched himself across the basement floor like a sprinter out of the starting block. His speed caught the intruder off guard-but only slightly. As Logan covered the distance in four long strides, a long blade appeared in the man's right hand.
Logan was almost upon the man, his left shoulder raised and his right arm at his waist, both hands in fists. As he gained momentum, he moved his head to the le
... weniger
Autoren-Porträt von Matthew Betley
Matthew Betley is a former Marine officer of ten years. His experience includes deployments to Djibouti after September 11, and Iraq, prior to the surge. A New Jersey native who considers Cincinnati home, he graduated from Miami University in Oxford, Ohio, with a BA in psychology and minors in political science and sociology.
Bibliographische Angaben
- Autor: Matthew Betley
- 2017, 448 Seiten, Maße: 10,6 x 19,2 cm, Kartoniert (TB), Englisch
- Verlag: Pocket Books
- ISBN-10: 1476799237
- ISBN-13: 9781476799230
- Erscheinungsdatum: 19.01.2017
Sprache:
Englisch
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