Book Zero

The RogueOps story begins … Griffin Dunn, Secretary of Defence, Davis MacLand, Director of National Intelligence and Jack Rollins, Director of the Federal Bureau of Investigation discover that they, along with President Alistair Scott are on a hit list for assassination. In a secure, secret meeting they discuss their options… "Okay, on point. We bring in USCE. The United States Constitution and Code Enforcement. The Regular and Irregular Militia. The good guys with guns. America's last line of defense. And, we bring in RogueOps to oversee all this." SecDef Dunn stabbed an icy glare at the FBI director and lit a fresh cigar. "Where did you hear about RogueOps?" Dunn's eyes narrowed. His brow wrinkled. "You know his name?" "What the hell, Griffin. I am director of the FBI for Christ's sake. I'm the guy still cleaning out bad actors that Kenyan entrenched in the department." "So yes, I have heard of RogueOps and Lachlan Hawke." Dunn leaned back and nodded. "Hawke oversees USCE although they have their own rank and file. A ragtag bunch of ex-military malcontents." "A bunch of damned cowboy vigilantes is what they are. Their only legitimacy is operating under Hawke's RogueOps umbrella." Middle of the South Atlantic— Hawke wired a message to his brother. Gary and his family were on a summer adventure. Sailing back to Virginia from New Zealand. They arranged for a sailing rendezvous off the coast of Argentina. Logan McKay sat at Atlantic Storm's TajTel console monitoring local broadcasts. He yanked the headphones off. "Hey, Hawke! Get over here! You need to take this!" Hawke pulled on the headset and listened. "Baltic sloop SeaScape. Mayday Mayday! This is Baltic sloop SeaScape. Position 55.37 W, 37.93 S bearing SSW at 18 knots." "Hostiles about to overtake. They fired on us and ordered us to heave to. Cannot outrun them. Repeat! Mayday Mayday! " "Gary! This is Hawke. This is Hawke! I'm on my way. I'm on my way!" More mayday calls. "Gary, do you copy? Come back!" …silence Gary kept repeating the mayday. Hawke slammed Atlantic Storm's MAN Turbo Diesel throttles to red line, set double headsails and a Genoa. Gary Hawke's Maydays escalated to a high pitch and his channel went dead. Two and a half hours at 40 knots Hawke arrived twenty minutes before the air-sea rescue helicopter The pirate was gone in any one of 360 degrees on the compass. Atlantic Storm drew closer. Hawke let out a long, blood-curdling scream. Gary and the mangled bodies of his beautiful wife and three children hung from the lower mast spreader. They hung in the bright sun disemboweled. Mutilated until death released them from the horrors they endured. One Year Later "TajTel located Magus Sammada from Interpol data," McChafin took a draw on his pipe.. "Why do I need to know this?" "Magus Sammada killed your brother." RogueOps is just getting going …