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J. Robert Kennedy

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Beschreibung

WILL A FORGOTTEN WEAPON AND AN UNCONTROLLABLE HATE UNLEASH THE ULTIMATE WAR? A nuclear missile, lost during the Cold War, is now in play—the most public spy swap in history, with a gorgeous agent the center of international attention, triggers the endgame of a corrupt Soviet colonel's 25-year plan. Pursued across the globe by the Russian authorities, including a brutal Spetsnaz unit, those involved will stop at nothing to deliver their weapon and ensure their payday, regardless of the terrifying consequences. When Laura Palmer confronts a UNICEF group for trespassing on her Egyptian archaeological dig site, she unwittingly stumbles upon the ultimate weapons deal, and becomes entangled in an international conspiracy that sends her lover, Archaeology Professor James Acton, racing to Egypt with the most unlikely of allies, not only to rescue her, but to prevent the start of a holy war that could result in Islam and Christianity wiping each other out.  If you enjoy action-packed thrillers, then don’t miss Brass Monkey, a novel international in scope, certain to offend some and stimulate debate in others. Brass Monkey, from USA Today Bestselling author J. Robert Kennedy, “a master storyteller” (Betty Richard) and “one of the best writers today” (Johnny Olsen), pulls no punches in confronting the conflict between two of the world's most powerful, and divergent, religions, and the terrifying possibilities the future may hold if left unchecked. About the James Acton Thrillers: "If you want fast and furious, if you can cope with a high body count, most of all if you like to be hugely entertained, then you can't do much better than J. Robert Kennedy." The James Acton Thrillers series and its spin-offs, the Special Agent Dylan Kane Thrillers and the Delta Force Unleashed Thrillers, have over 3000 Five-Star reviews and over 800,000 copies in circulation. If you love non-stop action and intrigue with a healthy dose of humor, try James Acton today! "James Acton: A little bit of Jack Bauer and Indiana Jones!" Available 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

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Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2011

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Brass Monkey

A James Acton Thriller

by

J. Robert Kennedy

From the Back Cover

WILL A FORGOTTEN WEAPON AND AN UNCONTROLLABLE HATE UNLEASH THE ULTIMATE WAR?

A nuclear missile, lost during the Cold War, is now in play—the most public spy swap in history, with a gorgeous agent the center of international attention, triggers the endgame of a corrupt Soviet colonel's 25-year plan. Pursued across the globe by the Russian authorities, including a brutal Spetsnaz unit, those involved will stop at nothing to deliver their weapon and ensure their payday, regardless of the terrifying consequences.

When Laura Palmer confronts a UNICEF group for trespassing on her Egyptian archaeological dig site, she unwittingly stumbles upon the ultimate weapons deal, and becomes entangled in an international conspiracy that sends her lover, Archaeology Professor James Acton, racing to Egypt with the most unlikely of allies, not only to rescue her, but to prevent the start of a holy war that could result in Islam and Christianity wiping each other out.

If you enjoy action-packed thrillers, then don’t miss Brass Monkey, a novel international in scope, certain to offend some and stimulate debate in others. Brass Monkey, from USA Today Bestselling author J. Robert Kennedy, “a master storyteller” (Betty Richard) and “one of the best writers today” (Johnny Olsen), pulls no punches in confronting the conflict between two of the world's most powerful, and divergent, religions, and the terrifying possibilities the future may hold if left unchecked.

About the James Acton Thrillers

"James Acton: A little bit of Jack Bauer and Indiana Jones!"

Though this book is part of the James Acton Thrillers series, it is written as a standalone novel and can be enjoyed without having read any of the previous installments.

About J. Robert Kennedy

With over 700,000 books in circulation and over 3000 five-star reviews, USA Today bestselling author J. Robert Kennedy has been ranked by Amazon as the #1 Bestselling Action Adventure novelist based upon combined sales. He is the author of over thirty international bestsellers including the smash hit James Acton Thrillers. He lives with his wife and daughter and writes full-time.

"A master storyteller." — Betty Richard

"A writer who tells what we are thinking but sometimes afraid to say." — Bruce Ford

"Kennedy kicks ass in this genre." — David Mavity

"One of the best writers today." — Johnny Olsen

"If you want fast and furious, if you can cope with a high body count, most of all if you like to be hugely entertained, then you can't do much better than J Robert Kennedy." — Amazon Vine Voice Reviewer

Get 5 Free eBooks!

Get the J. Robert Kennedy Starter Library by joining The Insider's Club and be notified when new books are released!

Find out more at www.jrobertkennedy.com.

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Books by J. Robert Kennedy

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 Special Agent Dylan Kane Thrillers

Rogue Operator Containment Failure Cold Warriors Death to America Black Widow The Agenda

The Delta Force Unleashed Thrillers

Payback Infidels

Table of Contents

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Table of Contents

Beginning

Definitions

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Epilogue

Acknowledgements

Don't Miss Out!

Thank You!

About the Author

Also by the Author

Definitions

Peacetime definition of Brass Monkey:

The Brass Monkey recall procedure is to prevent violations of the neutral airspaces of Austria and Switzerland by allied aircraft. Brass Monkey is a peacetime procedure initiated by the units of the Tactical Air Command and Control Service, and is applicable to all allied aircraft in German airspace.

Cold War definition of Brass Monkey:

A Brass Monkey recall indicated a NATO aircraft had violated Warsaw Pact airspace. When this occurred, a Brass Monkey was broadcast and all combat aircraft operating in the vicinity of the eastern borders were to immediately reverse course and return to base, regardless of whether they thought they were in the correct location. During the Cold War, Brass Monkey recalls were never publicized. To this day, NATO has never acknowledged they occurred, and deny any aircraft were shot down violating Warsaw Pact airspace.

Definition of Nap-of-the-Earth (NOE) flight:

A very low-level type of flight designed to avoid detection by the enemy. During the Cold War, NATO air forces would routinely practice NOE flying, rushing the Warsaw Pact borders then suddenly turning back at the last minute. Typically, these flights were armed with conventional weapons, and on occasion, fully armed tactical nuclear weapons. NATO has never admitted to these flights, and denies any were lost.

“In Germany they first came for the Communists, and I didn’t speak up because I wasn’t a Communist. Then they came for the Jews, and I didn’t speak up because I wasn’t a Jew. Then they came for the trade unionists, and I didn’t speak up because I wasn’t a trade unionist. Then they came for the Catholics, and I didn’t speak up because I was a Protestant. Then they came for me-and by that time no one was left to speak up.”

Reverend Martin Niemoller

1

West German Airspace July 23, 1985

Major Simon Donavan, call sign Juggernaut, yawned. He had done this run a hundred times before, and he’d do it a hundred times again. This time was different, what with the nuke he had loaded in the bomb bay and the fact his wingman had returned to base with an equipment malfunction. Everything else about this nap-of-the-earth flight was routine. They hugged the deck as the mighty engines of the FB-111F fighter-bomber, unofficially but affectionately nicknamed the Aardvark, strained, eager to reach the battlefield its crew hoped they would never see.

He pulled up on the stick slightly as a thatch of tall trees neared, his fun meter momentarily pegged as he recalled the report of the Canadian F-104 Starfighter pilot that flew his single-engine jet home last month after a bird strike. Unfortunately, the bird was in its nest and the pilot had the branch in his intake to prove it. Pilots across NATO had assigned him a new call sign—Treehugger. He wasn’t amused.

“If only the peaceniks knew what we were doing!”

Juggernaut smiled at his Weapons Systems Officer. Captain Mike “Minkey” Trotter had been his WSO for the past two years, and like him, knew the routine like the back of his hand. This was one of their assigned runs, the actual one decided when hostilities broke out. And if it were this run, this was the exact route they’d take. No exceptions, no deviations. Rush the border at treetop level, cross into enemy territory, and deliver your nukes. This was NATO’s answer to the Warsaw Pact’s overwhelming numbers. If the enemy reaches the Rhine, we go nuclear—Europe would not be lost.

“I’m hugging the deck so hard if this plane had balls, they’d be shaved. If those pinkos knew, they’d probably try to shoot us down themselves!”

“Yeah, the morons. Don’t they realize nukes are the only things keeping those damned Rooskies out of their backyard?”

“Yeah, and Ivan would love a little payback on the Germans.”

Minkey snorted, summoning his best Russian accent. “Allo, Siegfried, my name Ivan. Payback is ah beetch!”

Juggernaut’s laugh was cut off as he entered heavy low-lying clouds. His TACAN indicated he was twenty nautical miles from the border but it didn’t jive with his knowledge of the terrain. “Hey, Mike, check our position, will ya?”

“Roger.” Minkey examined the readings. “TAC says we’re sixteen miles but Inertial says one. That can’t be right. We’d be in the Buffer Zone.”

“Inertial’s been off before. Contact GCI just to make sure.”

Before Minkey could make contact with Ground Control Intercept, their comm squawked.

“Brass Monkey! Brass Monkey! Brass Monkey!”

Juggernaut’s heart leaped.

“Is that us?” yelled Minkey.

“I don’t know, but let’s get the hell out of here.” Juggernaut jerked his stick to the left, banking the lumbering Aardvark in a one-eighty he had done innumerable times before, though never in a Brass Monkey situation where he was this close to the East German border. A flashing indicator on his cockpit followed by an alarm momentarily distracted him.

“We’ve got a threat alarm!” exclaimed Minkey. “I’m showing a SAM launch!”

“Castle-Rock, this is Foxtrot two-ten. We are under attack, say again, we are under attack. TAC shows us in friendly airspace, am deploying flares.” Minkey was already launching flares and chaff to try and confuse the missile. Juggernaut knew if they had indeed strayed into enemy airspace, it was probably due to the Soviets spoofing their TACAN.

“Foxtrot two-ten, this is Castle-Rock. We show you two nautical miles outside the green zone, over.”

“Damn!” Juggernaut had the engines maxed but this beast wouldn’t make two miles before the SAM hit. “Status on inbound!”

“Flares had no effect, still on target. Estimate impact in ten seconds. We’ve got to eject!”

“Not with this goddamned cargo!”

If he could get them back across the border, they might have to jettison the missile on bailout, but at least it would be in friendly hands. He pushed the engines even harder as he flattened from his turn and glanced out his canopy at the contrail rapidly approaching. In a last ditch effort, he pushed the stick hard forward, sending the aircraft into a rapid dive. He thought of his wife and son as the plane’s tail jerked from the missile contact.

2

Mobile SAM Site East Germany

Major Grigori Andreievich Trubitsin stared through his binoculars, his face revealing none of the elation he felt inside. For years, he had spoofed the NATO TACAN with no success, using a hobbled together system based upon plans obtained from a French contact. He always laughed at the fact NATO continued to let France sit at the same table when they refused to commit to the organization, and was happy to take advantage of NATO’s naiveté.

Capitalist pigs. Your arrogance will be your undoing.

He watched as the SA-8b Surface to Air Missile he had ordered launched moments before, sped toward its prey. In less than a minute it was all over. A cacophony of shrapnel from the airframe, burning jet fuel and exploding ordnance was all that was left of the FB-111F that had strayed illegally into their airspace.

Of course, the Motherland would never admit to the fact the plane was tricked and had innocently crossed into East German airspace. That was irrelevant. All that was relevant was that he, Major Grigori Trubitsin, highly decorated member of the Russian Armed Forces, hero of Kabul, Order of Lenin recipient, had brought down a NATO aircraft. And now he would claim credit for whatever technology they retrieved from it.

He and his squad of five men climbed into two UAZ-469 light utility vehicles and raced for the smoldering wreckage in the nearby hills. Within minutes they arrived, covering the final few feet on foot. As they neared the crash site, Trubitsin saw larger and larger pieces of debris, debris that might yield valuable secrets for Mother Russia.

Ordering his men to fan out, they moved forward in a straight line, searching for the cockpit. It didn’t take long to find it lying on its side, its canopy glass shattered, severed from the plane’s rear half. Trubitsin bent over and peered inside, finding the two crewmembers still strapped in their seats. Drawing his weapon, he slapped the pilot. The man stirred slightly.

Good, prisoners for interrogation!

Leaning over the pilot, he reached out with his left hand to see if the weapons officer was alive. Before he could check, the man’s eyes opened. Startled, Trubitsin accidentally squeezed the trigger, shooting him through the neck.

This brought his squad running toward his position, his second-in-command jumping onto the nose cone from the other side. “Comrade Major, are you okay?”

“Yes, Lieutenant.” He pointed at the pilot. “This one is alive. Get him out and tend to his wounds. Don’t let him die, the KGB will want to interrogate him.”

“Yes, Comrade Major.” Trubitsin swore the young man’s boot heels clicked, which should be impossible since he was sprawled across the front of the aircraft. He was a good soldier of the empire. Followed orders, impeccably neat, fiercely loyal. Exactly what you wanted in a second-in-command. Someone who would back your orders without question, who the men could respect.

He explored more of the fuselage as several of his men extricated the now moaning pilot. From outside an excited corporal yelled. “Comrade Major, come! You must see this!” Trubitsin frowned. The man should have gone to his Sergeant first.

Follow the chain of command!

He ignored him.

“Comrade Lieutenant, you and the Major must see this!” This time it was his Sergeant, Boris Yakovski, a career military man who had seen action in more conflicts than the empire admitted to being in. Trubitsin wasn’t sure he had ever heard him excited about anything in the two years Yakovski had served under him.

Trubitsin climbed down from the cockpit and rounded to where the rest of his squad was now staring. A bomb bay door at the bottom of the fuselage was torn away, revealing a missile inside.

A tactical nuclear missile.

This time, Trubitsin smiled outwardly.

3

Alamut, Persia November 18, 1256 AD

Exhausted, Faisal slowly shoveled the food into his mouth. Every muscle in his body ached. Covered in cuts and bruises, some new, some days or weeks old, he ignored them, the pain no longer registering but the fatigue inescapable. The training he had undergone was beyond anything he had ever endured, and in training for most of his life, that was saying something. Both his father and eldest brother were members of the Hassassins, the name given to the Order of the Assassins, whispered in reverence by their supporters, and in fear by their enemies. His father had reached the rank of Greater Propagandist before dying in battle against the Saracens a year ago, and his brother was now a Propagandist. They had prepared him for the better part of ten years to join with them in their quest to maintain balance between Islam and the infidel Christians, a task handed down by the great Sabah, the Order’s founder.

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