On the brink of World War II, a young, beautiful-second generation German immigrant was recruited by FDR to steal Nazi technology. But the mission U.S. Army private Eileen Weiss was assigned to was nothing compared to the madness she uncovered--and the atrocities that even victory would not bring to an end.
In present-day New York City, CIA contract killer Sunny Vicam wants out. But just as he's about to slip into anonymity, he gets a mysterious cash-in-hand offer that's too good to refuse--until it propels him into a world more chilling than any he has known. For decades after V-E day, one last victory remains to be won, and one last hero to be recovered. From the banks of the Ganges to a cave on a Caribbean island, Sunny is about to discover a deadly mythology come to life--and World War II's longest-surviving secret. It's an assignment whose dangers, horrors--and rewards--he can't begin to imagine.
There are no customer reviews available at this time. Would you like to write a review?
September 27, 2004
Number of Print Pages*
Adobe DRM EPUB
* Number of eBook pages may differ. Click here for more information.
Excerpt from The Shadow War by Michael Salazar
1045 WEDNESDAY / 25 FEBRUARY 2004
NEW YORK CITY
Blood was everywhere. five men lay on the floor of an abandoned warehouse. Four of them were dead. One was wounded. Blindfolded with their wrists tied behind their backs, two of them had been executed.
Glass shards flew and laser dots rained in from the smashed out windows, painting the only man standing in the room like a red Christmas tree.
"DON'T SHOOT!" Sunny Vicam yelled at the top of his lungs, holding the empty revolver over his head. It was still smoking.
"Drop the gun! Get on the floor. Get on the goddamned floor, now!"
Sunny obeyed the faceless words by pitching the gun away, then dropping to the floor.
Doors and windows of the warehouse exploded in wood-and-glass splinters as cops with guns appeared everywhere.
Sunny was jumped on by everyone; all he saw were the feet, hands, and arms that held him to the concrete. Men wearing FBI blazers handcuffed him.
"You're under arrest!" an FBI blazer yelled in his ear and started reading him his rights.
Sunny could barely hear because his ears still rang from the echoing shots that he'd fired in the open building.
"I count four dead. One wounded. Looks like he executed two of them," said an FBI guy wearing dark Ray-Ban sunglasses.
The first body, whose wrists were bound, was turned over.
"Hey, this is one of ours," said another FBI agent. The way he combed his jet-black hair made him look like a part-time Elvis impersonator.
The second body was checked.
"So is this one," said FBI Elvis.
FBI Elvis looked at the dead body, then jerked Sunny to his feet. "And just who the fuck are you?"
Sunny just stared at the man. "It looks like you were about a minute too late, Elvis." He had nothing more to say.
"Hold him. Hold him good." FBI Elvis backed up and kicked Sunny in the stomach.
Sunny fell to the ground gasping for breath.
The interrogation room was small, cramped, and hot. Sunny sat in a wooden chair next to a steel table. His left hand was cuffed to a bar in the wall. Two men entered the room. One wore dark Ray-Ban sunglasses. The other was FBI Elvis.
Sunny's stomach was sore. Looking from the shackle to the man who'd kicked him, he nodded. "I don't care who you are, asshole. Even like this, if you try a go at me again, I'm gonna fight back. So come on, if you think you're bad enough, Mr. FBI Elvis."
FBI Elvis's eyes lit up, his face turned red, and he tried to step forward but was quickly restrained by the other agent, who opened the door and pushed him out in one motion, slamming the door behind him.
He yanked off his sunglasses, then stalked over and got nose to nose with Sunny. "You've already been read your rights, but you still want to play stupid and tough." He looked back at the door. "I wanted to let him beat you, hell I'd help. I'm old school. He's old school. But I can't. The rules even apply to you. Here in America we really do have rules of law--and my people will follow them, old school or not, like it or not. That's if you cooperate. Otherwise, I can always call him back in and leave you cuffed." He took a step back and glared down on Sunny. "Right now I got four dead bodies on my hands, and one critical. Two of my UCs are dead; executed, all killed by the same gun. Everyone witnessed that you were the one holding that smoking gun in your hand."
"I didn't kill all of them. Not your boys at least." Sunny glared at him. "And just who do you think I am?"
"That's what I'm trying to find out. Who are you?"
"Who are you?"
Mr. Ray-Ban glared at Sunny. "Rob Rose, FBI agent in charge of this op."
"Well, Mr. Rob Rose, old school FBI agent in charge, I'm just a working stiff with a possible blown cover."
"Oh yeah, really?" Rose grinned wide. "Okay. I'll play along. You're CIA, right?"
Sunny shook his head. "Mossad."
Rose grinned wider. "Ah, the Institute. Great! Even better. Now that's original, a terrorist mole coming from the Jews. There are a lot of legal boundaries to cross and more details to check out. So now what? Are you going to cry for a lawyer, too?"
"I just want to get the fuck out of here."
"So, are you going to talk?"
"First get a guy named Frank Delgado here."
"Delgado, who's he?" Rose asked.
"My handler. The only thing I really know about him is that his name isn't Frank Delgado. I would guess that you'll find him listed somewhere in your own secret yellow pages." Sunny caught Rose's eyes rolling. "Hey, I'm not crazy. Go ahead. Make the call. It'll only take a minute, right? What have you got to lose?" He looked at the manacles. "I'm sure not going anywhere at the moment."
Rose peered into Sunny's ice-cold eyes. "Just who in the hell are you?"
Sunny smiled and raised his eyebrows. "Look, can I get something to eat and drink, please?"
Rose stood up and walked to the door. "I'm going to check it out."