Larry Bond's First Team: Fires of War

Overview

Larry Bond, New York Times bestselling author of Dangerous Ground, and Jim DeFelice have earned widespread acclaim for the gritty authenticity and spellbinding suspense of their military-political adventures involving the First Team. "The Team" lead by top CIA officer Bob Ferguson, and supported by Special Forces commando Stephen Rankin and Marine Jack Young, is authorized to take immediate action, beyond the bureaucratic restraints of US intelligence or the military ...

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Larry Bond's First Team: Fires of War

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Overview

Larry Bond, New York Times bestselling author of Dangerous Ground, and Jim DeFelice have earned widespread acclaim for the gritty authenticity and spellbinding suspense of their military-political adventures involving the First Team. "The Team" lead by top CIA officer Bob Ferguson, and supported by Special Forces commando Stephen Rankin and Marine Jack Young, is authorized to take immediate action, beyond the bureaucratic restraints of US intelligence or the military establishment, in the ever-surprising War on Terror.

After years of exhaustive negotiations, North Korea's Kim Jong Il abruptly agrees to surrender all of his nuclear weapons. This sudden change in policy has the US suspicious, and the Team is dispatched to uncover the truth. Newest Team operative, the young and beautiful Thera Majed, goes undercover during the preliminary inspections of the entire Korean peninsula, on a mission so sensitive that she will be disavowed if discovered. But when she discovers hidden weapons in South Korea, a firestorm of debate is set off in Washington. A public announcement of their suspicions could derail the North Korean agreement, and the South Korean government may not even be aware of the weapons' existence. Ferg and the rest of the Team jump in to investigate, and the closer they get to the truth, the harder mysterious forces work to keep them away. Someone is planning for a full-scale nuclear attack that would throw the civilized world into political and economic upheaval, and Ferg and the Team are the only ones in the position to stop them.

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Editorial Reviews

From the Publisher
"The technothriller has a new ace and his name is Larry Bond."—Tom Clancy

"[A] fast-paced, complex thriller."-Publishers Weekly on Larry Bond's First Team: Angels of Wrath

"Action on every page. Maybe in every paragraph." -Kirkus Reviews on Larry Bond's First Team

"Technothriller fans rejoice! Larry Bond is good—-very, very good."—Stephen Coonts

Publishers Weekly
The troops of the small Special Ops force in this latest novel by Bond (Red Phoenix, etc.) spend about equal time bantering with each other and blowing up stuff: buildings, vehicles and even thugs who stand in their way. Aside from its inherent entertainment value (which is considerable), this is a good formula because it allows Bond and coauthor DeFelice to smoothly fold in an enormous amount of exposition and to introduce, over the course of a hundred or so short chapters, the individual members of Joint Services Special Demands Project Office, known to insiders as simply the Team, for the novel is the kickoff of a projected series about the new war on terror. Smooth, shrewd Bob Ferguson leads them, engineering their escape from a tricky trap in Kyrgyzstan early on. The MacGuffin: a planned meeting with Russian wheeler dealer Alex Sheremetev in Kyrgyzstan goes awry when Ferg finds Sheremetev's murdered corpse. Before you can say frameup, local police have arrested Team member Jack "Guns" Young (a Marine and language expert) for the crime. It's up to Ferg, Connors (the old man and explosives expert) and Rankin (the young hothead) to rescue Guns and find the real killer-and that's just for starters. Back in Washington, Corrine Alston, chief adviser to the new president, disdains the maverick modus operandi of the Team and Ferg in particular, so much so that she flies to Russia to confront and control him. Her slow journey from skeptic to supporter is the novel's most entertaining and mainstream plot thread, the reader on her shoulder as she's immersed in the rough and tumble adventures of the Team. This is a solid series debut. Agent, Robert Gottlieb at Trident Media Group. (May) Copyright 2004 Reed Business Information.
Kirkus Reviews
Bond and DeFelice send their First Team to Korea, where radioactive waste is turning up in the wrong places and a billionaire in the South is too chummy with nasty customers in the North. Bob Ferguson, tough-guy-in-charge of the Special Demands First Team that takes on secret assignments for the CIA and the joint services, is still on the job despite the thyroid cancer that was eating him up in Larry Bond's First Team (2004). Sexy and resourceful team-member Thera Majed, disguised as a mild-mannered steno, is part of an international inspection team on tour in the two Koreas and Japan. The inspectors are checking to see that all nuclear niceties are being observed, unaware that Thera is checking much deeper, with a special interest in what's going on north of the DMZ, where Dear Leader Kim Jong-Il is known to be interested in manufacturing his own line of nuclear weapons. To the bewilderment of the Team's managers, Thera finds radioactive evidence of the wrong kinds of activity in supposedly peaceful South Korea. The little detectors she's sprinkled around what is supposed to be a legitimate waste-disposal site are glowing like so many Christmas bulbs. Thera's news brings the fearless officer Ferguson and other teammates in for a Seoul search. Since everyone on the team has the guts of cat burglars, there is much sneaking into terrifying factories and bases and dumps, where their findings point to South Korean businessman and super-patriot Park Jin Tae. Park longs for Korea's unified glory days and nurses a seriously deep grudge against the Japanese. Posing as a shady Russian arms dealer, Ferguson inserts himself into a "business trip" that Park and his associates make into North Koreaand learns that Park is thick with a dangerous army general. But before he can get his news back to Washington, Ferguson is snatched and imprisoned and left to wither away from lack of thyroid medicine. Relentless action. No time for reflection.
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Product Details

  • ISBN-13: 9780765346407
  • Publisher: Doherty, Tom Associates, LLC
  • Publication date: 11/27/2007
  • Series: Larry Bond's First Team Series , #3
  • Format: Mass Market Paperback
  • Edition description: First Edition
  • Edition number: 3
  • Pages: 464
  • Sales rank: 587,419
  • Product dimensions: 3.95 (w) x 6.94 (h) x 1.24 (d)

Meet the Author

Larry Bond is the author of several bestselling military thrillers, including Crash Dive, Cold Choices, Dangerous Ground, Red Phoenix and the Larry Bond’s First Team and Larry Bond’s Red Dragon Rising series. He was a naval officer for six years. He's also worked as a warfare analyst and antisubmarine technology expert, and he now writes and designs computer games, including Harpoon and Command at Sea. He makes his home in Springfield, Virginia.

 

Jim DeFelice is the author of thrillers including Leopards Kill and Threat Level Black. He has also collaborated with Stephen Coonts and Dale Brown. He lives in New York's Hudson Valley region.

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Read an Excerpt

Chapter One

Sicily

“Dance?”

The blonde took a step backward, clutching at the collar of her blouse as if it had been wide open.

“I don’t think so,” she said.

“Come on. You look like you could use a dance.” Bob Ferguson gestured to the side of the open piazza, where a small jazz band was playing. “They’re playing our song.”

“This isn’t dance music,” said the woman stiffly, “and you’re very forward.”

“Usually I’m not,” Ferguson turned to the woman’s companion and pleaded his case, “but I’m here on holiday. Tell your friend she should dance with me.”

“I don’t know.”

Ferguson laughed and turned back to the blonde. “I’m not going to bite. You’re British, right?”

“I am from Sweden.”

“Coulda fooled me.”

“You’re Irish?”

“As sure as the sun rises.” He stuck out his hand. “Dance?”

The woman didn’t take his hand.

“How about you?” Ferguson asked, turning to the other woman.

“I’m Greek.”

“No, I meant, would you dance?”

Thera Majed hesitated but only for a moment. Then, shrugging to her companion, she stepped over to Ferguson, who immediately put his hand on her hip and waltzed her into the open space near the tables.

“Hello, Cinderella,” whispered Ferguson. “How are you doing?”

“I’m fine. What’s going on?”

“I felt like dancing.”

“I’ll bet. What would you have done if Julie accepted your offer?”

“I would have enjoyed two dances.”

Ferguson whisked her out of the way of a hurrying waiter.

“There’s no one else dancing, you know,” said Thera.

“Really? ‘But I only have eyes, for you.’” Ferguson sang the last words, grabbing a snatch of a song.

“Why are you contacting me?”

“Itinerary’s changed,” he said, spinning her around.

“What’s up?” she asked as she came back to him.

“Everything’s being moved forward. Some sort of push by the UN. You’re leaving for Korea in the morning.”

Ferguson danced her around, improvising a stride slightly quicker than a standard foxtrot to swing with the jazz beat. He’d learned to dance as a teenager in prep school—the only useful subject he picked up there, according to his father.

“We’re not going to have time to get security people on your team,” he whispered, pulling her back.

He felt her arms stiffen and started another twirl.

“You all right, Cinderella?” he asked her, reeling her back in.

“Of course,” said Thera.

“We’ll have people standing by. Relief caches will go in while you’re down South, exactly where we’d said they’d be. Plan’s the same; you’re just not going to have anyone on the IAEA inspection team with you.” He stopped and looked at her. “You cool with that?”

The IAEA was the International Atomic Energy Agency. After two months of training, Thera had been planted on the agency as a technical secretary; her team had just finished an inspection in Libya.

“I’m OK, Ferg. We shouldn’t make this too obvious, do you think?”

“Hey, I’m having fun,” he said, leaning her over.

He glanced toward the Swedish scientist, who was watching them with an expression somewhere between bewilderment and outrage. Ferguson gave the blonde a smile and pulled Thera back up.

“If you want to bail, call home. We’ll grab you.”

“I’m OK, Ferg. I can do it.”

“Slap me.”

“Huh?”

“Slap me, because I just told you how desperately I want to take you to bed.”

“I—”

“‘I only have eyes, for you . . .’”

“I won’t,” said Thera loudly. She took a step back and put her hands on her hips. “No.”

“Come on,” said Ferguson. “We’re obviously meant for each other.”

Thera told him in Greek that he was an animal and a pig. The first words sputtered. She imagined herself to be the technical secretary she was portraying, not the skilled CIA paramilitary looking for violations of the new Korean nuclear nonproliferation treaty.

And she imagined Ferguson not to be her boss and the man who had saved her neck just a few months before but a snake and a rogue and a thief, roles he was well accustomed to playing.

Though he was a handsome rogue, truth be told.

“Go away,” she said in English. Her cheeks were warm. “Go!”

“Should I take that as a no?” Ferguson asked.

Thera turned and stomped to her table.

She seemed to take that well,” said Stephen Rankin sarcastically when Ferguson got back to the table. “What’d you do, kick her in her shins?”

“I tried to, but she wouldn’t stand still.” Ferguson sipped from the drink, a Sicilian concoction made entirely from local liquor. It tasted like sweet but slightly turned orange juice and burned the throat going down, which summed up Sicily fairly well.

“You think she’s gonna bail?” Rankin asked.

“Nah. Why do you think that?”

“I don’t think that. I’m asking if you think that.”

Ferguson watched Thera talking with the Swedish female scientist. He could still smell the light scent of her perfume and feel the sway of her body against his.

She wasn’t going to quit, but she was afraid. He’d sensed it, dancing with her. But fear wasn’t the enemy most people thought. In some cases, for some people, fear made them sharper, smarter, and better.

Ferguson thought Thera was that kind of person; she’d certainly done well in Syria, and there was as much reason to be afraid then as there would be in North Korea.

He jumped to his feet to chase the thought away. “Let’s get going, Skippy.”

“One of these days I’m going to sock you for calling me Skippy.”

“I wish you’d try. Let’s get out to the airport.”

Copyright © 2006 by Larry Bond and Jim DeFelice. All rights reserved.

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