The Mercenaries: Blood Diamonds by P. W. Storm

By P. W. Storm

After assembling his personal "private safety" strength made of the capable and disillusioned from the U.S. army and British mystery Intelligence provider, Mad puppy and his workforce are off to Angola to recuperate a lacking cache of gem stones. In a land the place bloody chaos is the norm, something may well derail their venture: from terrorist-linked revolutionaries to CIA treachery to the inevitable firestorm while them all conflict. With a big payday at the line, Hertzog's males might want to turn out their worthy within the jungles of hell . . . or die attempting.

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The Mercenaries: Blood Diamonds 39 “Lay off him,” Mad Dog told Pope. “He’s got the record just like you. ” Rookie shook his head in disgust. ” “I wouldn’t worry about that, little man,” growled Pope. ” “Oh, I’m worrying. ” Mad Dog knew about the doll and he, too, had asked Pope why he carried it; he’d been fed the same line of shit, but you knew there was a whole story behind it, one better left alone until the man was ready to share. “Enough with the doll,” snapped Pope. “It’s a good luck charm.

Alastair Bibby was already in the Philippines when Mad Dog had called him regarding the diamond theft in Angola, thus he was the first to arrive at the Spanish-influenced colonial-style home with guest house. Bibby wanted to buy a house on Cebu himself, and he had been shopping around the island for the preceding few days. He would never stay with Mad Dog when he was in town, despite the six bedrooms, all with ample guest accommodations. He wanted to avoid the others as much as possible. Deep down, Bibby was ashamed of what he had become, and he recognized quite clearly that he was living in denial.

Bibby just couldn’t pull off the black thing, war paint or no, so they’d keep him in balaclava to hide his face whenever they could. On the other hand, Sapper, who was, of course, black, would fit in (though the tattoo on his neck might need some explaining). He made a point of ribbing the other guys about how much better they looked as black men. ” “We’ve done some, but the transport pilots we’ve been using are glorified cab drivers. Don’t know how good their eyes are. Don’t know if we can really trust them, either.

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