When he came back on the line, his response chilled Renzi to the bone: “We have no life jackets.”Ĭontinue Reading the Use of Force Excerpt.From the #1 New York Times and #1 Wall Street Journal bestselling author Brad Thor comes "his very best" (The Washington Times) thriller, following covert operative Scot Harvath as he is called upon to stop an ISIS-led plot to destroy the Vatican.Īs a storm rages across the Mediterranean Sea, a terrifying distress call is made to the Italian Coast Guard. There was a pause as the man shouted out a question in his language to the people on his boat. “Now, how many flotation devices do you have?” “Sir,” Lieutenant Renzi repeated, trying to reassure the man, “we are sending a ship to rescue you, but you must stay calm.” It would take hours to get any type of vessel to them. Seasoned captains had already fled the storm’s path. He searched it for one close enough to help effect a rescue. It showed ships and boats in the central Mediterranean Sea.
Lieutenant Renzi studied the screen at the head of the room. They were too far away and there were too many people. We are sinking.”Īn Italian Coast Guard helicopter was out of the question. We will send rescue, but you need to be calm. “Please, please, you must help us,” the caller implored. The boat was 120 nautical miles from the island of Lampedusa, Italy’s southernmost territory. The distressed vessel’s position appeared on the giant screen at the front of the operations center. Renzi entered the full coordinates into his computer: 33☄9’N– 13☄1’E.
The man read the numbers from the screen: “One, three. “And beneath that? I need the number beneath.” “Thirty-three degrees, forty-nine minutes north,” Renzi repeated, confirming the caller’s position. Swells as high as fifteen meters had already been reported tonight, and the storm was only getting worse.
Rarer still, did they consult weather forecasts. Rarely did they provide them with enough fuel to make the journey. Once they had been paid, they put their passengers into unseaworthy boats, tossed in a compass and a satellite phone preprogrammed with the emergency number of the Guardia Costiera, and pointed them toward Italy. North African refugee smugglers were subhuman. This was exactly the kind of call Renzi and his team were worried about tonight. Renzi snapped his fingers to get his colleagues’ attention. “My latitude is N, three, three, four, nine.” Mayday,” a voice said in heavily accented English. An explosion of thunder shook the building as Lieutenant Pietro Renzi, dressed in his Navy whites, answered the phone in front of him.
0 kommentar(er)
