Cobra Clearance Read Free

man’s wrist in a vice grip and jerked him forward. Then he wrapped his arm around the punk’s elbow and clamped down. Using the joint as a fulcrum, he yanked the forearm back with brutal force. The elbow snapped with a sharp crack. Swastika screamed, then fell to the ground, writhing in agony.
    Tucker grabbed the woman’s hand and hurried her toward the car.
    The other man, stunned by Levi’s ferocity, moved in. That’s when Levi went wildcat. The guy rushed. Levi uncoiled a strike. He hit the thug’s neck with the knife-edge of his hand. Perfect brachial stun. The guy’s legs folded. He collapsed in a heap. Levi ran after Tucker.
    He caught up as Tucker half-dragged, half-carried the victim to the Buick, flung her into the front seat and dove behind the wheel. Tucker jammed the gear into drive and floored it. Seconds later they were three blocks away.
    Levi took the trembling woman’s hand in his until they dropped her at a mall six blocks away. He pressed a fifty dollar bill into herpalm and said, “Take a cab home.” She thanked them with her eyes before blending into the crowd.
    Tucker said to Levi as he turned north on New Hampshire Avenue, “What was that you used on them? Krav maga? Dieter?”
    â€œA combination of both.”
    Tucker asked in a low tone, “Is that what you used in Baghdad that night?”
    â€œThe night of the shooter. Yes.”
    Tucker looked him over. “You’re like Israel. Small, but nuclear capable.” Then he added before Levi could reply, “But we have a higher priority and that was a problem for the cops. Still, we had no choice.”
    â€œConcur. And I’m damn glad we were there.” Levi made a fist. “Now let’s find Amahl. He could be anywhere. Or nowhere. But we’ll find him.” He turned pensive. “I’m betting he’s already far away, roadblocks be damned.”
    TRAVEL AROUND THE COUNTRY had been halted in a crisis control attempt to contain the assassins. Those who did get into lines for rigidly vetted international flights, or tried to drive into Mexico or Canada, faced long delays as authorities checked each person through facial recognition programs. Elsewhere, added scrutiny meant trucks and trains could not move, and produce, supplies and gasoline reserves were frozen in place. As commerce ground to a halt, the country’s economic depression worsened.
    The FBI meanwhile set about trying to locate the assassins, and for the most part other government agencies set aside their rivalries and pooled their resources. There were some exceptions—higher-ups who maintained the belief that information-sharing spelled doom for their agency. But as a whole, the machine rumbled on.
    At the same time, Homeland Security had ordered that suspicious activity of any kind be reported to the nearest authority. “Ifyou see it, report it.” Americans, while polarized in their views of the president, did not countenance an attack by foreign terrorists on their own turf. Neighbors scrutinized neighbors, and friends turned against friends. But as everyone focused their attention on turning over rocks, the nation’s street cops operated based on their own wisdom: that criminals often hide in plain sight.
    AS LEVI AND TUCKER DROVE ON , a Caucasian pilot in a khaki bush jacket and matching trousers eased back on the control wheel of a twin Navajo and touched down at San Diego’s Montgomery Field. The plane had originally taken off from a private landing strip twenty miles from the Key Marriott, three hours post-assassination. The pilot relied on the fact that there are 6,000 general aviation airports in the USA with as many private aircraft in flight at any given time, and monitoring so many airfields and aircraft was as fruitless as a lone state trooper trying to stop every speeder on a rush-hour turnpike. To add to his comfort zone, they departed prior to the declared state of