Black Wolf (2010) (35 page)

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Authors: Dale Brown

BOOK: Black Wolf (2010)

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The engine of one of the cars.

He jumped back as the car crashed through the door. It veered right, lurching out of the driver’s control. He dropped to his knee and fired twice, each shot hitting a different rear tire. The car careened sideways, then flipped over.

Stoner walked slowly toward the car. He would kill the men.

And then, reluctantly, he would face Zen.

“T
hey’re immobile on the ground,” Turk told Breanna. “Get the Czech air force to send ground troops.”

“They have police responding,” she said. “They can see your aircraft overhead—they must be only a few minutes away.”

Turk pulled back on his yoke so sharply he swore it would come out of the control column. The aircraft turned its nose straight up—just barely missing the MiG that had plowed through the air in front of him.

“Call the Czech air force off,” he said. “I think they’re a little peeved that I didn’t let them shoot down the chopper.”

“I’ll see what I can do.”

Z
en was about ten feet from the pistol when he heard the Black Wolf coming. He pushed harder, clawing his way forward.

The gun was inches away.

A boot kicked it away.

Another slammed down hard on his hand. He felt so much pain he nearly blanked out.

“You should have searched harder for me,” Stoner told him.

“You’re right,” conceded Zen. “We should have.”

Stoner brought his gun down, aiming it at him.

“Let me call my wife and daughter and tell them I love them before you kill me,” said Zen.

“Be real, Jeff.”

“You gave me the cell phone.”

Stoner straightened his arm. Zen held his breath, then watched as Stoner raised the gun to his head.

S
toner remembered the crash perfectly now, the feeling that had come over him as the aircraft hit the ground. It seemed to take forever for death to come . . . and it hadn’t come.

Just pain, incredible, unending pain.

Like now.

He pulled the trigger. Nothing happened.

His pistol was empty. He hadn’t counted his shots.

Zen realized it a second before he did. It was just long enough for him to grab the gun on the ground.

“Shoot me!” yelled Stoner.

But his old friend didn’t. Instead, he started firing into the ground.

Stoner dove on him, desperate for one last bullet.

T
urk saw the struggle, and the Czechs, running up the hill.

They weren’t going to make it.

What he needed was a stun grenade or something along those lines. But he didn’t have bullets. All he had was the Tigershark.

All the Tigershark had was speed and maneuverability.

Useless.

Maybe not, he realized, pushing his wing over.

Z
en pulled the trigger again and again, knowing what Stoner would do—what he thought he had to do.

The gun jumped. He pulled. Stoner dove on his arm, trying to pull the gun toward his face.

“I’m not firing,” yelled Zen as Stoner wrestled for the trigger. “I’m not killing you.”

Years of exercise—much of it out of sheer frustration—had given Jeff Stockard an extremely strong upper body. But it was not up to Wolf standards. Slowly, he felt himself losing the battle.

“You’re not getting it,” yelled Zen, pushing himself toward Stoner’s chest. He fired the gun—the shot went wild.

Stoner grabbed the barrel and pulled it toward his face.

“No!” yelled Zen.

There was an explosion. Zen felt his head spin. Light cracked near him.

Then another boom—longer, harder—the cracking of the sound barrier only a few feet away.

Wind rushed over them.

Someone yelled at him. Someone else pulled him away. A third man was struggling with Stoner. A fourth and fifth jumped on Stoner. There was a loud crack, the zapping of a stun gun, and Stoner leapt upward.

Then Zen couldn’t see at all.

Prague

“B
reanna Stockard.”

“And you, little girl?”

“Teri Stockard.”

The hospital attendant smiled at them. “You must wear these badges,” she told Teri. “Can you do that?”

“I can do it.”

“Very good.”

The woman handed the temporary hospital passes to Breanna. She pinned one on Teri, then clamped the other to the pocket of her blouse as she walked toward the elevator.

“Third floor,” called the woman behind them.

The elevator doors opened as they arrived. The car was empty. They got in. Breanna punched the number 3, then stood back.

“Is Daddy really all right, Mom?” asked Teri as the elevator started upward.

“Your father . . .”

Breanna’s voice trailed off. What did she want to say? That Zen was indestructible?

That certainly wasn’t true—his legs were proof of that.

That he was a remarkable man?

Teri already knew that.

“Daddy’s OK, honey,” she said finally. “He has to stay in the hospital for a day or so, but he’s fine. He’ll be as good as new when he gets out.”

“Promise?”

Breanna dropped down to her knees. “I’ll never lie to you, honey. Ever. Especially about that. OK?”

Teri nodded.

The doors opened. Breanna glanced to her right and saw the guards standing in front of the room where Mark Stoner was being kept under heavy sedation.

She wanted to see him, too. To thank him for not killing Zen.

And to tell him that they would figure out how to help him. How to end his pain, and get him back to what he had been. They owed him that.

“This way, Mom—Room 312.” Teri took her hand and led her in the other direction, down the hall. There was a guard in front of Zen’s room, too. He didn’t smile as they approached, but evidently he’d been briefed to let them through—he stepped to one side, making sure they could get to the door.

Zen was sitting up in bed, laptop open.

Working.

Working!

“My two favorite women in the world!” he said as they came in.

Teri ran to him and hugged him. Breanna, a tear slipping from her eye, hung back for just a second, watching her husband and daughter enjoy their embrace, before going ahead and joining them.

About the Author

DALE BROWN
, a former U.S. Air Force captain, was born in Buffalo, New York, and now lives in Nevada. He graduated from Penn State University with a degree in Western European history and received a U.S. Air Force commission in 1978. He was still serving in the Air Force when he wrote his highly acclaimed first novel,
Flight of the Old Dog
. Since then he has written a string of
New York Times
bestsellers, including most recently
Shadow Command
,
Rogue Forces
, and
Executive Intent
.

www.dalebrown.info

Praise

Praise for the novels of
New York Times
bestselling author

DALE BROWN

“Brown puts us in the cockpits of wonderful machines and gives us quite a ride.”

New York Times Book Review

“The novels of Dale Brown brim with violent action, detailed descriptions of sophisticated weaponry, and political intrigue. . . . His ability to bring technical weaponry to life is amazing.”

San Francisco Chronicle

“A master at creating a sweeping epic and making it seem real.”

Clive Cussler

“His knowledge of world politics and possible
military alliances is stunning. . . . He writes about weapons beyond a mere mortal’s imagination.”

Tulsa World

“A master . . . Brown puts readers right into the middle of the inferno.”

Larry Bond

“Nobody does it better.”

Kirkus Reviews

Also by the Author

Also in the Dreamland Series

(with Jim DeFelice)

Dale Brown’s Dreamland: Whiplash

Dale Brown’s Dreamland: Revolution

Dale Brown’s Dreamland: Retribution

Dale Brown’s Dreamland: End Game

Dale Brown’s Dreamland: Satan’s Tail

Dale Brown’s Dreamland: Strike Zone

Dale Brown’s Dreamland: Razor’s Edge

Dale Brown’s Dreamland: Nerve Center

Dale Brown’s Dreamland

Titles by Dale Brown

Executive Intent

Rogue Forces

Shadow Command

Strike Force

Edge of Battle

Act of War

Plan of Attack

Air Battle Force

Wings of Fire

Warrior Class

Battle Born

The Tin Man

Fatal Terrain

Shadow of Steel

Storming Heaven

Chains of Command

Night of the Hawk

Sky Masters

Hammerheads

Day of the Cheetah

Silver Tower

Flight of the Old Dog

This book is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents, and dialogue are drawn from the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

BLACK WOLF
. Copyright © 2010 by Air Battle Force, Inc.. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.

EPub Edition December 2010 ISBN: 9780062030481

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