Shadow Maker by James R. Hannibal - Spotlight and Giveaway

This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. A winner randomly drawn via Rafflecopter will receive a $20 Amazon or BN.com gift card. Click on the tour banner to see the other stops on the tour.

How far will collateral damage from a CIA drone strike reach?

When a suicide bomber shatters the peace of a winter afternoon on the National Mall in Washington, D.C., former pilot and undercover Cerberus operative Nick Baron receives an eerie invitation from the chess app on his phone—a mysterious figure named The Emissary wants to play.

Nick and his covert unit—the Triple Seven Chase team—soon find themselves drawn into battle against an unknown opponent who has resurrected an ancient order of assassins: the legendary Hashashin. And there is a long-awaited prophecy being fulfilled by a series of violent attacks which may culminate in a final apocalypse over Jerusalem.

As the Triple Seven fight to stop each attack, Nick tries to keep The Emissary on the hook by playing their digital chess game. The lines between the game and the fight begin to blur, as every time Nick loses a piece on the board, he loses one of his men. And if Nick cannot find a way to stop the terrorist mastermind, a checkmate may kill millions…

Enjoy an excerpt:

Washington, DC

The Christmas decorations are up. That was the first thought that passed through Nick Baron’s mind as he walked beneath the grand arched entrance of Washington, DC’s Union Station. He was six feet tall and plainly dressed in a brown leather jacket and faded jeans. His wife, Katy, walked next to him, pushing a stroller. She was more elegantly dressed, still resisting the inevitable soccer mom persona. Her auburn hair fell to her shoulders beneath a stylish winter cap. She wore jeans as well, but they were midnight blue and fit her slender form snugly, descending into high-heeled riding boots. Katy was enjoying her afternoon. Nick was not.

His attention to the Christmas decorations did not spring from a yuletide appreciation for the thirty-foot tree in the main hall or the lighted garlands that adorned every horizontal surface, or amusement at the model-train displays stretching across the usually empty floor space. He took notice of the decorations because they cluttered the station, and clutter in public spaces made him uneasy.

They paused in front of the welcome center, a two-story island of cherrywood in the center of the marble hall. While Katy checked the marquee, Nick’s steel-blue eyes roamed the crowded station. Smaller versions of the central Christmas tree created shadows in every corner and alcove. Rows of poinsettias and ten-inch riser skirts masked the empty spaces beneath the model trains. All the extra floor displays compressed the heavy holiday traffic into nicely segmented kill zones. What a nightmare.

“You’re doing it again,” said Katy, letting out a little oomph as she thrust Luke’s stroller into motion again. “I can see it on your face, the way your eyes are moving. Relax. This is family time. You’re off duty.”

“We could have had family time waiting in the car at the passenger pickup,” he replied, still searching rather than looking at his wife. “You know I hate train stations. They’re death traps.”

Other terms used by Nick’s colleagues in the counterterrorism community were low-hanging fruit and easy pickin’s. In the post-9/11 world, airports had become ultrasecure, with the latest in screening technology and mountains of rules. In some countries, getting to the aircraft with so much as a toothpick was a challenge. Train stations, on the other hand, remained largely unchanged. Most didn’t even use metal detectors. Over the past thirteen years, train lines and their unions worldwide had lobbied hard to keep security lax, in hopes that a public frustrated with being poked and prodded at airports would switch to railways for their domestic travel. Their efforts succeeded in attracting a few extra passengers. They also attracted terrorists in droves.

Since September 11, 2001, eighty-nine people had died in terror attacks against airliners, all of them in a coordinated attack on Russian commuter planes by Chechen Muslims. In the same period, nearly one thousand people had been killed and around five thousand wounded in attacks against railways. Britain, Spain, Russia, no country was immune. Maybe train bombings didn’t get the attention they deserved because the body counts weren’t high enough, but one day that would change. One day, probably in the United States, some group of radicals would find a way to use the rail system to make a big splash.

Nick quickened his pace and steered Katy toward Platform C, where his father’s train was supposed to arrive. As they passed the midconcourse shops, he spied a rolling suitcase sitting by itself, tucked halfway behind one of the little Christmas trees. A security guard a few feet away was too busy gawking at a pair of attractive young window shoppers to notice.

As Nick started toward the bag, a man in a business suit came out of the Starbucks and reclaimed it. He strolled away, oblivious, nursing a venti nonfat sugar bomb.

“There he is,” said Katy, tugging Nick back the other way.

Dr. Kurt Baron emerged from Platform C with two small suitcases. He raised one of them in a half wave.

Thanks to strong genes, the older Baron shared Nick’s medium build and youthful features, but where Nick’s hair was thick and golden blond, his dad’s was thin and dark, turning gray. And now it seemed his father had decided to grow a goatee. It looked absurd.

“I told him not to wear that Go Air Force sweatshirt when he travels,” he muttered to Katy. “It makes him a target.”

“Be nice. You promised no fights.”

“He’s only wearing it because I told him not to.”

About the Author:

James R. Hannibal is a former US Air Force Stealth Bomber pilot with over a thousand hours of combat experience including over-watch, close air support, and HVI captures. He graduated from the US Air Force Academy in 1997 with a bachelors of science in Middle

Eastern Studies and earned a masters of science from Central Missouri State University in Aviation Safety Sciences. His flying career included the A-10 Warthog, B-2 Stealth Bomber, MQ-1 Predator, T-38 Talon, T-37 Tweet, and the Boeing 737, 757, and 767. When he is not flying or writing thrillers, James occasionally reviews for the New York Journal of Books.

Buy the book:

Amazon – http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B00G3L6N6K/
BN - http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/shadow-maker-james-r-hannibal/1117225112
IndieBound - www.indiebound.org/book/9780425266885
Kobo – http://store.kobobooks.com/en-US/ebook/shadow-maker-1
BAM - http://www.booksamillion.com/p/Shadow-Catcher/James-R-Hannibal/Q601624991
Powell’s - http://www.powells.com/biblio/62-9780425266908-0
Walmart - http://www.walmart.com/ip/31893105
Publisher - http://www.penguin.com/book/shadow-maker-by-james-r-hannibal/9780425266892

Social Media:

Facebook – http://www.facebook.com/JamesRHannibal
Twitter – http://twitter.com/JamesRHannibal
Website – http://stealthcommand.com/

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Shadow Catcher by James R. Hannibal - Spotlight and Giveaway

This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. James will be awarding a $20 Amazon or B/N GC to a randomly drawn winner via rafflecopter during the tour. Click on the tour banner to see the other stops on the tour.

From James R. Hannibal—a veteran combat pilot with Top Secret clearance from the U.S. government—comes an electrifying high-tech thriller in the great tradition of Tom Clancy…

Over ten years ago, Air Force major Nick Baron was part of a failed special ops mission that left a B-2 stealth bomber at the bottom of the Persian Gulf. Now, leading his men—the Triple Seven Chase team—Baron must find the bomber and dispose of it for good before any unfriendly nation can steal the onboard technology for its own purposes. But as the team embarks on its mission, there are greater dangers waiting.

When the CIA intercepts a call signal from an operative in China long thought dead, the Triple Seven Chase team is given the perilous task of retrieving the lone soldier from deep within the Chinese wilderness. There is only one plane for such a dangerous mission: the Shadow Catcher, a plane with capabilities beyond anything that has ever flown.

What Baron and his men don’t know is that the enemy is already among them—and that the Shadow Catcher itself may be the ultimate prize.

Enjoy an excerpt:

Where am I?

Nick stood on a dirt road in thick darkness. He could not remember how he got there. On either side of the road, he saw the high mud walls common to desert villages. They seemed to be closing in on him. He could not feel the ground beneath his feet. The sound of his own breathing echoed in his ears. Then he saw the mosque, its distinctive dome with the worn crescent carved into the west side. Suddenly he knew where he was. He knew what he had to do.

He had to save Danny.

Nick found his teammate less than fifty yards ahead, crouched next to a gap in the wall surrounding the mosque’s small courtyard. Danny looked back at him. He stood up and waved as if they were meeting on a neighborhood street back home in Maryland, wearing that same ridiculous grin that he always wore.

“Get down, you idiot,” Nick whispered into his communications implant. “Stay there. Wait until I get to you.”

Danny did not respond. Instead, he disappeared through the gap in the wall like a ghost.

“Drake, I lost visual with Danny,” said Nick, rushing forward. “What’s going on in that courtyard? Where is the target?” He had to get to his friend, but no matter how hard he ran, the mosque stayed fifty yards ahead of him.

“You can see what I can,” replied Drake, his voice mechanical, distant. “Check the image on your handheld. I’ve got nothing on the thermal.”

Nick checked the faintly glowing monitor attached to his Falcon ROVER handheld. The receiver pulled real-time thermal video from an RQ-7 Shadow UAV flying overhead. He held the small screen up to his eyes, but he couldn’t focus his vision. He couldn’t make any sense of the hazy green image.

The target, Zaman Ramiz, had smuggled a nuclear weapon out of southern Russia. The Triple Seven had chased him from Azerbaijan, across northern Turkey and into Bazargan, just across the Iranian border. Drake had stayed behind to fly the Shadow. Nick and Danny had crossed the border in pursuit. Now the arms dealer’s men were dead, and Ramiz was holed up in the small mosque.

The whole village seemed to shift around him. Suddenly Nick was at the wall. Where was Danny? What a stupid question. He knew where Danny was. He was in that courtyard, and that courtyard was a deathtrap. He looked down at the handheld again. He still couldn’t see the video feed. He put the receiver away and cautiously leaned into the gap to get a look with his own eyes. A spray of bullets ricocheted off the wall beside his head, kicking brick fragments and dust into his face.

“He just shot at me,” Nick shouted as he pulled back behind the wall. He tried to rub the debris from his eyes. “I need to know where that’s coming from.”

Drake gave no response.

Nick had to keep the pressure on. He burst into the courtyard with his MP7 tucked into his shoulder, searching for a target, searching for his teammate. There, just ahead. Danny was lying motionless beside a wide, square fountain. The ancient stones were wet with blood.

Another burst of gunfire rang out from the shadows of the mosque. Nick felt two bullets slam into his vest. He dove into a prone position behind the fountain, shouting at Danny. But Danny did not answer.

Nick felt an icy grip crushing his chest. Pain radiated through his torso. He couldn’t breathe. He rolled over and tried to rip off his Kevlar vest, but there was no vest. He wore no protection over his cotton undershirt. The fabric felt warm and wet against his fingertips. He raised his hand to his eyes. It was covered in blood.

Footsteps. Ramiz stood over him, a blur at first and then slowly coming into focus. The arms dealer smiled down from behind the barrel of his Stechkin machine pistol.

He pulled the trigger.

“Okay, that’s really annoying.”

Nick fought to open his eyes. Drake’s hand was on his arm, shaking him.

“Seriously, how does Katy get any sleep when you’re home? You’re thrashing around in your bunk and moaning like a creature from a low-grade zombie movie.”

Nick blinked until his small berth on the Illustro came into focus. He wiped the sweat from his forehead. After taking a moment to gather his wits, he rolled onto his side and glowered across the tiny room at Drake. “I wasn’t moaning,” he said, trying to steady his voice. “And for the record, all zombie movies are low grade.”

About the Author:

James R. Hannibal is a former US Air Force Stealth Bomber pilot with over a thousand hours of combat experience including over-watch, close air support, and HVI captures. He graduated from the US Air Force Academy in 1997 with a bachelors of science in Middle Eastern Studies and earned a masters of science from Central Missouri State University in Aviation Safety Sciences. His flying career included the A-10 Warthog, B-2 Stealth Bomber, MQ-1 Predator, T-38 Talon, T-37 Tweet, and the Boeing 737, 757, and 767. When he is not flying or writing thrillers, James occasionally reviews for the New York Journal of Books. Buy the book at Amazon, Barnes and Noble, IndieBound, Kobo, BAM, Powells, WalMart, or the publisher.

Find James at:

Facebook – http://www.facebook.com/JamesRHannibal
Twitter – http://twitter.com/JamesRHannibal
Website – http://stealthcommand.com/

Check out the other books in the series:

How far will collateral damage from a CIA drone strike reach?

When a suicide bomber shatters the peace of a winter afternoon on the National Mall in Washington, D.C., former pilot and undercover Cerberus operative Nick Baron receives an eerie invitation from the chess app on his phone—a mysterious figure named The Emissary wants to play.

Nick and his covert unit—the Triple Seven Chase team—soon find themselves drawn into battle against an unknown opponent who has resurrected an ancient order of assassins: the legendary Hashashin. And there is a long-awaited prophecy being fulfilled by a series of violent attacks which may culminate in a final apocalypse over Jerusalem.

As the Triple Seven fight to stop each attack, Nick tries to keep The Emissary on the hook by playing their digital chess game. The lines between the game and the fight begin to blur, as every time Nick loses a piece on the board, he loses one of his men. And if Nick cannot find a way to stop the terrorist mastermind, a checkmate may kill millions…

After the towers fall on 9/11, Lieutenant Nick Baron and the rest of the 81st Fighter Squadron are desperate for action. But CENTCOM puts them on the sidelines, leaving the young Warthog pilots restless—and reckless. Then the unthinkable happens. During a high-risk training flight, a rookie wingman slams into the ground.

In the darkness that follows, Nick wonders if he will ever learn to trust a wingman again—or even learn to trust himself. He will soon find out. Despite the black mark on his record, Nick’s application to the elite Stealth Wing is approved. A recruiter for a new covert team has taken note of Nick’s unique combination of skills. Suddenly Nick is swept into Operation Cerberus—a top secret mission that will take him from a harrowing flight over a black testing facility to a fight for his life on the Iraqi Dunes.

“Hannibal brings together a terrific mix of real air technology with intrigue and nonstop action. A true suspenseful story that will keep you turning the pages until the exciting finale; it really is a great tale.” —Clive Cussler

“Get out of the way, Nelson DeMille. Brad Thor—you’ve got competition!”—Raymond Benson

“A feast for thriller lovers!”—Grant Blackwood, New York Times bestselling author of The Kill Switch

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