Patriot, M.A. Rothman [reading like a writer TXT] 📗

Patriot

M.A. Rothman

Primordial Press

Copyright © 2021 Michael A. Rothman

Cover Art by M.S. Corley

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, 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.

All rights reserved.

Also By M.A. Rothman

Technothrillers: (Thrillers with science / Hard-Science Fiction)

• Primordial Threat

• Freedom’s Last Gasp

• Darwin’s Cipher

Levi Yoder Thrillers:

• Perimeter

• The Inside Man

• Never Again

Connor Sloane Thrillers:

• Patriot

• The Death Speech

• Project Thor

Epic Fantasy / Dystopian:

• Agent of Prophecy

• Heirs of Prophecy

• Tools of Prophecy

• Lords of Prophecy

• Running From Destiny

• The Code Breaker

• Dispocalypse

• The Plainswalker

• The Sage’s Tower

Contents

Messages

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

Chapter 37

Chapter 38

Chapter 39

Chapter 40

Chapter 41

Chapter 42

Chapter 43

Chapter 44

Chapter 45

Chapter 46

Author’s Note

Preview of The Death Speech

Addendum

About the Author

Deep Sea Research and Salvage

58-1 Nazeuragami, Amami 894-0068, Kagoshima Prefecture

Mr. Mohammad Hakimi:

This is in regards to the salvage operation we conducted on your behalf 152 kilometers southeast of Kikaijima Island. The payment that you provided was not honored by your banking institution.

We regret that you must be charged a ten percent late penalty. Payment in full, including the penalty, must be received by us within the next thirty days or we will have to contact our attorneys on this matter.

Your assistance in this matter is appreciated.

Sincerely yours,

Yoshi Takahashi

Executive Director, DSRE

TO: Connor Sloane, Analyst - CIA

SUBJ: UDC Query Response – Broken Arrow @ 152 km SE of Kikaijima Island

Per your request, I conducted a search of the Central Records System and found no evidence of any US assets being lost in that vicinity. However, a search of the National Archives yielded some results that you may find interesting.

In December of 1965, there are records documenting the loss of a military asset at 27°33.2’N, 131°19.3E, which is within a five-mile radius of your stated query. It resulted in the loss of an A4-E Skyhawk attack aircraft. It was carrying a B43 nuclear payload, with an estimated explosive yield of one megaton. I’ve attached details regarding the payload as well as a scan of the now unclassified ship’s deck log of the USS Ticonderoga dated December 5th, 1965.

Sincerely,

Kaitlyn Shaw

Archives Technician (3A)

Chapter One

Mohammad Hakimi watched the operation from the captain’s overlook, five decks above, holding his breath as the half-century-old aircraft swung uneasily over the unusually calm waters of the East China Sea. He cringed as the crane’s motor whined under the strain of the water-soaked airframe being transferred between the two massive ships. Lightning flashed, throwing dancing shadows across the deck, and Mohammad tapped nervously on the metal railing, knowing that within minutes, the incoming storm could ruin everything. Floodlights erected around the loading area illuminated the workers watching the operation along the gunwale. The operation’s foreman stood on a raised platform, pointing and shouting as the men below pulled on guide wires, turning the wrecked airframe so it was aligned properly with the marked section on the receiving deck.

Lightning again flashed across the sky, this time much closer, and the concussive blast from the thunder sent vibrations through Mohammad’s chest.

One of the men aimed a floodlight at the twisted frame of the fighter jet. Its wings were partly torn off, the back section was completely gone, water spilled from the cockpit and engine intakes, and the bent and dented fuselage was covered with coral. Mohammad could just make out the emblem below the cockpit, a boomerang and compass inside a circular badge. The number 402, on the aircraft’s nose, had been covered by coral and worn away long ago, but the squadron emblem, partial frame number, and what looked like an intact payload still affixed to the underside of the aircraft told him everything he needed to know.

This was the plane he was looking for.

It had been lost at sea in 1965. At the time, the Americans used all the means they could to retrieve it, but the depths of the ocean—and fate—were against them. And despite it being a “broken arrow incident”—meaning an accidental loss of a nuclear asset—they had seemingly forgotten about it.

Mohammad smiled as he watched the salvaged wreck hovering in the air, free from the crevasse it had been hiding in for more than half a century. This American loss might just enable him to deliver justice, in Allah’s name, to those who wanted to destroy everything about his way of life. They would finally know the power of the one true god.

Allahu Akbar, he thought, fingers squeezing the rail as the boat shifted under the first swells of the incoming storm.

The odds of finding this wreck, this instrument of vengeance, had been almost zero, yet here it was. God was most certainly great.

The aircraft, having cleared the gap between the ships, swung lazily back and forth over the receiving deck. Deckhands rushed to maneuver the wreckage over the predetermined area, struggling to keep their balance as the ship began to roll under their feet. Metal groaned and creaked as the crane lowered the wreckage onto the deck.

“It’s glorious, my friend,” said Ramzi bin Sadir. He stood beside Mohammad, his forearms resting on the rail. The rain had matted his long hair across his face, and water dripped from his close-cut beard. Lightning flashed again, illuminating his smile. “Isn’t it?”

Mohammad nodded. “It is.”

On the deck, the foreman shouted at his men again, though Mohammad didn’t understand his rapid-fire Japanese. Two of the deckhands had anchored their retaining strap to the wrong clamp and were seemingly catching hell for it. The foreman pointed wildly, throwing his arms in the air, pacing and barking like a crazed maniac. This was all likely a show for Mohammad’s benefit, especially since he’d instructed the captain that if they made their journey ahead of schedule