Read Jack Ryan, Books 7-12 for Free Online Page A

was a clever ploy, Clark thought, but obvious, having dreamed it up himself to draw the bastard out of his hole.
    “Well, yes, we are concerned with the political stability of the region,” John allowed, with an insider’s smile to show that he knew the score. Americans were known for doing business all over the world, after all, or so Corp and others believed.
    Chavez was fiddling with the GPS device, watching the LCD display. At the upper-right corner, a block went from clear to black. Ding coughed from the dust in the air and scratched his nose.
    “Okay,” Clark said. “You’re a serious man, and we understand that. The fifty million can be paid up-front. Swiss account?”
    “That is somewhat better,” Corp allowed, taking his time. He walked around to the back of the Rover and pointed into the open cargo area. “These are your rock samples?”
    “Yes, sir,” Clark replied with a nod. He handed over a three-pound piece of stone with very high-grade Molly-be-damned ore, though it was from Colorado, not Africa. “Want to show it to your people?”
    “What is this?” Corp pointed at two objects in the Rover.
    “Our lights, sir.” Clark smiled as he took one out. Ding did the same.
    “You have a gun in there,” Corp saw with amusement, pointing to a bolt-action rifle. Two of his bodyguards drew closer.
    “This is Africa, sir. I was worried about—”
    “Lions?” Corp thought that one pretty good. He turned and spoke to his “policemen,” who started laughing amiably at the stupidity of the Americans. “We kill the lions,” Corp told them after the laughter settled down. “Nothing lives out here.”
    Clark, the General thought, took it like a man, standing there, holding his light. It seemed a big light. “What is that for?”
    “Well, I don’t like the dark very much, and when we camp out, I like to take pictures at night.”
    “Yeah,” Ding confirmed. “These things are really great.” He turned and scanned the positions of the General’s security detail. There were two groups, one of four, the other of six, plus the two nearby and Corp himself.
    “Want me to take pictures of your people for you?” Clark asked without reaching for his camera.
    On cue, Chavez flipped his light on and played it toward the larger of the two distant groups. Clark handled the three men close to the Rover. The “lights” worked like a charm. It took only about three seconds before both CIA officers could turn them off and go to work securing the men’s hands.
    “Did you think we forgot?” the CIA field officer asked Corp as the roar of rotary-wing aircraft became audible fifteen minutes later. By this time all twelve of Corp’s security people were facedown in the dust, their hands bound behind them with the sort of plastic ties policemen use when they run out of cuffs. All the General could do was moan and writhe on the ground in pain. Ding cracked a handful of chemical lights and tossed them around in a circle downwind of the Rover. The first UH-60 Blackhawk helicopter circled carefully, illuminating the ground with lights.
    “BIRD-DOG ONE, this is BAG MAN.”
    “Good evening, BAG MAN, BIRD-DOG ONE has the situation under control. Come on down!” Clark chuckled into the radio.
    The first chopper down was well outside the lighted area. The Rangers appeared out of the shadows like ghosts, spaced out five meters apart, weapons low and ready.
    “Clark?” a loud, very tense voice called.
    “Yo!” John called back with a wave. “We got ‘im.”
    A captain of Rangers came in. A young Latino face, smeared with camouflage paint and dressed in desert cammies. He’d been a lieutenant the last time he’d been on the African mainland, and remembered the memorial service for those he’d lost from his platoon. Bringing the Rangers back had been Clark’s idea, and it had been easy to arrange. Four more men came in behind Captain Diego Checa. The rest of the squad dispersed to check out the