JET - Escape: (Volume 9)

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Authors: Russell Blake

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JET IX

Escape

Russell Blake

 

Copyright © 2015 by Russell Blake. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used, reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage or retrieval system, without the written permission of the publisher, except where permitted by law, or in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews. For information, contact:

[email protected]
.

Published by

 

 

Contents

Books by Russell Blake

About the Author

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

Chapter 47

Chapter 48

Chapter 49

Chapter 50

Chapter 51

Chapter 52

Chapter 53

Chapter 54

Chapter 55

Chapter 56

Chapter 57

Chapter 58

Chapter 59

Epilogue

Excerpt from  Ramsey’s Gold

 

 

Books by Russell Blake

Co-authored with Clive Cussler

THE EYE OF HEAVEN

THE SOLOMON CURSE

Thrillers

FATAL EXCHANGE

THE GERONIMO BREACH

ZERO SUM

THE DELPHI CHRONICLE TRILOGY

THE VOYNICH CYPHER

SILVER JUSTICE

UPON A PALE HORSE

DEADLY CALM

RAMSEY’S GOLD

The Assassin Series

KING OF SWORDS

NIGHT OF THE ASSASSIN

RETURN OF THE ASSASSIN

REVENGE OF THE ASSASSIN

BLOOD OF THE ASSASSIN

REQUIEM FOR THE ASSASSIN

The JET Series

JET

JET II – BETRAYAL

JET III – VENGEANCE

JET IV – RECKONING

JET V – LEGACY

JET VI – JUSTICE

JET VII – SANCTUARY

JET VIII – SURVIVAL

JET IX – ESCAPE

JET – OPS FILES (prequel)

JET – OPS FILES; TERROR ALERT

The BLACK Series

BLACK

BLACK IS BACK

BLACK IS THE NEW BLACK

BLACK TO REALITY

Non Fiction

AN ANGEL WITH FUR

HOW TO SELL A GAZILLION EBOOKS

(while drunk, high or incarcerated)

 

About the Author

Featured in
The Wall Street Journal
,
The Times
, and
The Chicago Tribune
, Russell Blake is
The NY Times
and
USA Today
bestselling author of over thirty-five novels, including
Fatal Exchange
,
The Geronimo Breach
,
Zero Sum
,
King of Swords
,
Night of the Assassin
,
Revenge of the Assassin
,
Return of the Assassin
,
Blood of the Assassin
,
Requiem for the Assassin
,
The Delphi Chronicle
trilogy,
The Voynich Cypher
,
Silver Justice
,
JET
,
JET – Ops Files
,
JET – Ops Files: Terror Alert
,
JET II – Betrayal
,
JET III – Vengeance
,
JET IV – Reckoning
,
JET V – Legacy
,
JET VI – Justice
,
JET VII – Sanctuary
,
JET VIII – Survival
,
JET IX – Escape
,
Upon a Pale Horse
,
BLACK
,
BLACK is Back
,
BLACK is The New Black
,
BLACK to Reality
, and
Deadly Calm
.

Non-fiction includes the international bestseller
An Angel With Fur
(animal biography) and
How To Sell A Gazillion eBooks In No Time
(even if drunk, high or incarcerated), a parody of all things writing-related.

Blake is co-author of
The Eye of Heaven
and
The Solomon Curse
, with legendary author Clive Cussler. Blake’s novel
King of Swords
has been translated into German,
The Voynich Cypher
into Bulgarian, and his JET novels into Spanish, German, and Czech.

Blake writes under the moniker R.E. Blake in the NA/YA/Contemporary Romance genres. Novels include
Less Than Nothing
,
More Than Anything
, and
Best Of Everything
.

Having resided in Mexico for a dozen years, Blake enjoys his dogs, fishing, boating, tequila and writing, while battling world domination by clowns. His thoughts, such as they are, can be found at his blog:
RussellBlake.com

 

To get your free copy,

just join my readers’ group here:

http://bit.ly/rb-kos

 

Chapter 1

Port-au-Prince, Haiti

 

A balmy evening breeze drifted across Port-au-Prince bay, carrying with it the taint of decaying marine life and the stink of diesel fuel. The only lights visible were the faint lamps on cargo ships anchored far offshore from the port. The sun had set two hours earlier, sinking into the western sea, a crimson fireball extinguishing itself in a daily ritual of renewal. The warm Caribbean washed onto the rocky shore in gentle breaking swells, swirling around the few fishermen still standing in the shallows with makeshift nets, hoping to catch dinner so they wouldn’t have to go home empty-handed to their impoverished families.

A smallish cargo vessel, its seams weeping russet down the welded plates of its navy blue hull, pulled at the dock lines lashed to one of the concrete jetties that jutted into the water. The battered craft was still plying its island trade decades after the end of its useful life, like a fighter in the tenth round, unwilling to go to the mat no matter how many punches land.

Three islanders stood at an iron gate that protected the jetty, laughing and talking as they watched the sparse traffic pass on the waterfront road. A United Nations armored personnel carrier rumbled along, transporting members of the de facto occupation force both resented and feared by the locals.

Music pulsed from a band playing on the seaside terrace of an open-air restaurant down a spit of beach from the wharf. The establishment was little more than a concrete enclosure with a broad overhang crafted from dried palm fronds and scavenged lumber, but popular with the islanders. Steel drums trilled melodically to a reggae rhythm, playing in time to the flickering torches that surrounded the packed dining area.

The patrons smiled and chatted easily in the welcome relief of the trade winds. The beer was cold and the fish fresh, and everyone a local – tourism in Port-au-Prince had declined to an anemic trickle even before the disastrous earthquake that leveled many of its landmarks in 2010, and had now all but vanished. Haiti had been compared unfavorably to a war zone, which wasn’t far from the truth, given the squalor and rampant violence that visited the tropical paradise on a daily basis.

But for the lucky diners, a collection of some of the most prosperous Haitians, those concerns might have been a million miles away as ebony-skinned waiters drifted among them like wraiths, watching for empty bottles or finished platters on the brightly colored tables.

A large man in an oversized red silk Hawaiian shirt clapped enthusiastically when the band finished its number, and his companions joined in, the gold of their watches and necklaces gleaming in the torchlight and their smiles so white as to be nearly luminescent. Two young women, dressed provocatively in shorts and tank tops that left nothing to the imagination, toasted each other with the last of their rum and Cokes, beaming at their host. The big islander, Jon Renoir, gave the band leader a thumbs-up and cupped his hands to his mouth so his shouted encouragement could be better heard.

“You boys crazy-good tonight, you are,” Renoir yelled in the Creole that was the predominant language of the island. The steel drummer held up his mallets in salute – Renoir was a powerful figure in Haiti, a crime lord who ran the nearby slum of Cité Soleil, easily the most dangerous enclave in one of the world’s most deadly ports.

Renoir dealt in human traffic, providing children to the clandestine pedophile tourists who braved the nation’s dangers to satisfy their forbidden hunger, as well as methamphetamines and cocaine to the Cité Soleil inhabitants, transshipment of weapons and drugs to and from the U.S., murder for hire, kidnapping, torture, slavery – the full gamut of every imaginable criminal activity. He was an island fixture, a multimillionaire in a land of extreme poverty and, as such, received respect from the staff and band, as well as furtive, averted looks from his fellow diners.

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