Killing for the Company: Just Another Day at the Office...

Killing for the Company: Just Another Day at the Office...

Chris Ryan

Language: English

Pages: 347


Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub

Former SAS legend Chris Ryan brings you his sixteenth novel and it is full of all his trademark action, thrills and inside knowledge.

2003. Invalided out of the SAS Chet Freeman makes his living in high-end security, on a temporary contract for an American corporation called the Grosvenor Group. He catches a young woman, a peace campaigner, eavesdropping on a meeting the Group is holding with the British Prime Minister.

The Group's interests include arms manufacture, and what Chet and the young woman overhear seems to imply that it is bribing the Prime Minister to take his country into an illegal war. "Could this possibly be true? "Somebody believes that this is a secret that needs covering up, because Chet and the girl are attacked. Hunted down, they go into hiding, and a deadly game of cat and mouse begins.

Nearly ten years later tension is reaching breaking point in Jerusalem. The now ex-Prime Minister is working as a Middle East peace envoy. As the city descends into anarchy and rival armies are poised to turn it into a battlefield, Chet's best buddy, Luke, is part of a team tasked by the Regiment with extracting the ex-Prime Minister.At the height of the battle Luke discovers a conspiracy far more devastating than any arms deal.

The Exposed (Animorphs, Book 27)

A Crying Shame (Jesse Watson Mysteries, Book 3)

Splinter Cell (Tom Clancy's Splinter Cell, Book 1)

Conviction (Tom Clancy's Splinter Cell, Book 5)

The One That Got Away













of the plastic explosive that was just peeping from below her right sleeve. As she did this, the remaining phones were handed over to the three men – each device with a lead ending in two probes that they pushed into their C4 body casings. The other four men stood back warily. ‘You don’t need to do anything,’ said the guy with the stubble. ‘We’ll call the numbers at eleven.’ The bombers looked at each other, then back at their point men, who were edging away now. ‘Allahu Akbar,’ the pregnant

there was open ground between her and this second pregnant woman. It took less than a second to cross it. And in that brief window of time, a scene flashed before her eyes. She was a child, standing on the streets of Tel Aviv. Her brother stood beside her and together they looked upon a sight of indescribable carnage. Their mother was there, lying on the ground. The clothes had been burned from her torso; the skin was charred, filling the air with the stink of smoking flesh; both arms had been

mercy before he ended it. The retort of the round’s discharge echoed around the alleyway and Maya Bloom, shot from little more than four metres, was thrown violently against the dead-end wall, her knees barely able to support her as she clutched her stomach and looked down with horror at the blood that was seeping between her fingers. Luke was aware of a whining sound from the stray dog somewhere behind him as he bore down on her. And another sound, further away but growing nearer: sirens. Maya

Chet said. ‘Keep listening.’ More static. More noise. Then there was a word. Just a single word out of the meaningless burble. ‘Baghdad.’ Chet strained to hear more, but the distortion had returned. It dissipated a few seconds later, however, and he was able to make out a second word. ‘Military.’ Hold the fucking front page, Chet thought. So Stratton was discussing military action in Iraq. The guy probably didn’t talk about much else these days. The girl was looking at him with wide,

matter entirely. Chet drove. His mind was racing. What the fuck had happened? Who was the intruder? Who had tried to kill him? You’re going to tell me the name of the woman you spoke to outside the meeting room today. If you do that, you might live to see morning. Suze McArthur. That pale-faced redhead with a stud in her nose and the smell of incense in her clothes had someone running scared. But who? And why? He remembered what he’d overheard on the rooftop. Trust me, Prime Minister

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