Arabian Storm Wallace and Keith ARABIAN STORM Copyright © 2020 by George Wallace and Don Keith. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review. Severn River Publishing www.SevernRiverPublishing.com This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. ISBN: 978-1-64875-903-1 (Paperback) ISBN: 978-1-64875-906-2 (Hardback) Contents Also by Wallace and Keith Prologue 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 Epilogue Next in Series Join the Reader List You Might Also Enjoy… Thanks for Reading Read Warshot About the Authors Also by Wallace and Keith The Hunter Killer Series Final Bearing Dangerous Grounds Cuban Deep Fast Attack Arabian Storm Warshot Hunter Killer By George Wallace Operation Golden Dawn By Don Keith In the Course of Duty Final Patrol War Beneath the Waves Undersea Warrior The Ship that Wouldn't Die Never miss a new release! Sign up to receive exclusive updates from authors Wallace and Keith. Wallace-Keith.com/Newsletter Our world is a dangerous place. It always has been, but with today’s technology, the potential for killing people and blowing up stuff is greater than ever before. As we have seen, a limited number of madmen or an alliance of nations with ill intent can indelibly and in a deadly manner change the course of history while claiming innocent lives. That is why we should be so very thankful for the men and women within freedom-maintaining intelligence agencies around the world who work so hard to keep track of those rogue groups and countries. And especially for members of the military that remain strong, well-trained, and vigilant, determined to do what is necessary on our behalf to preserve peace. We would like to dedicate this book and the others in the series to those people, most of whom get no medals or parades, but whose work is by far the strongest deterrent against bad actors around the planet. Don would also like to dedicate this book to his wife, Charlene, their three children, and a growing brood of grandkids, all of whose future is far safer and more secure, thanks to the Tom Donnegans, Joe Glasses, Jim Wards, TJ Dillons, and Bill Beamans who are really out there. And George would like to also dedicate this book to his wife, Penny, their two daughters, sons-in-law, and grandson. Prologue Norman Rothbert held his arms against his chest and blew into his closed hands. God, it was cold! Even in the middle of summer, the temperature at this altitude was bitterly, bitingly frigid. His fashionable camel hair topcoat, perfect for a Manhattan winter stroll, seemed tissue-paper thin in the brittle wind that hurled shards of ice and snow against his cheeks. The banker consciously labored to suck air into his lungs. At just over fourteen thousand feet up, this godforsaken village would be more than twice as high above sea level as Rothbert’s chalet in Aspen. And, of course, far more elevated than his Upper West Side townhouse in New York City, even if it was the penthouse of a sixty-five-floor luxury high-rise. The high peaks of the Hindu Kush range towered over them, soaring up into the clouds, overshadowing the cluster of mud and stone hovels that made up the rude village and the helicopter that had delivered him. Rothbert’s first thought was to climb back into the aircraft and instruct the pilot to go right on back to Islamabad or wherever the closest international airport might be. But before he could, the local guide roughly pulled him away from the chopper toward an ancient, rusty, dented Toyota pickup truck. The helicopter immediately lifted off, laboring to find enough air, then disappeared back into the mist down the mountain valley. With the helicopter gone, there was no choice. Far more accustomed to stepping around the flotsam on New York City sidewalks than avoiding piles of yak manure, Rothbert carefully followed the guide to the truck, once again questioning his decision to respond to the request that had brought him to the very end of the Earth. To a spot his research staff confirmed showed as a black, empty hole at night from space, even if the place was not all that far from some of the planet’s most densely populated territory. To an area that included many of the world’s highest mountain peaks and a most inhospitable climate. To an area ravaged for centuries by war, and much too near for comfort to places where modern warfare raged at that very moment. But Norman Rothbert already knew why he had not followed his instincts. Declining the invitation was never an option. The summons had come secretly but directly from Shaikh Babar Khalid, better known in the press as Nabiin, the Prophet, a figure who hid very far in the background but wielded immense power. The Prophet’s reach extended as easily to the very highest levels of finance as it did into the depths of Islamic terrorism. But no one had ever seen the Prophet. His picture had never appeared on the nightly news. The man was an enigma, largely relegated to myth status. No one knew for sure that he truly existed, much less where he might be hiding. The very day he received the cryptic summons, Rothbert ordered his team to learn all they could about the man, his home, his business interests. Dealings with Starling-Rothbert as well as with others. Within minutes, a cryptic text from a telephone number in Switzerland ordered, “Do not delve any further into my affairs.
