Echo Six: Black Ops 5 - Strikeforce Syria Read Online Free Page A

through Poland and France in their Panzers. Buchmann was almost a flesh and blood replacement for the charging tanks that conquered most of Europe before the world woke up to the Nazi menace. He tolerated the German, always knowing that one day the man might go too far, and he'd have to RTU him. Or kill him.
    "Five minutes, Commander,” the Captain intoned. “We’re feet dry. In a few moments, you’ll have sight of the pyramids. I guess you won't have time to pay them a visit," he joked.
    Talley ignored the quip and looked at Guy. "I'll fast rope with the first stick. You’ll follow right behind. Lieutenant Rovere, bring up the rear, and as you’re the last, you’ll need to get down fast. They'll hear us coming, and we won't have much time."
    "They’ll still have time to kill the hostages," Lieutenant Domenico Rovere pointed out. The Italian was the unit joker, always ready with a quotation from Shakespeare, suitable for the occasion. So far, he’d held back. It wouldn’t be long before he came up with something.
    "That's true, except they won't have figured a Hostage Rescue mission would arrive so soon. I doubt they'll be ready for us."
    Rovere nodded, but he still looked dubious.
    "One minute," the pilot intoned. "You sure you want me to pick you up out on the Giza Plateau? Or should I wait around over the target?"
    "Make it the Giza Plateau. If you wait over the city, you'll be a target for every Muslim carrying a gun."
    "That's about all of them, I guess."
    Talley smiled. He turned back to his men. "Make sure you know who you're shooting at. The Israelis won’t be very forgiving if you hit one of their own. They’re liable to launch an operation against our people."
    "Roger that," they responded in unison.
    The Osprey slowed and began the wing rotation maneuver, to bring it to the hover. They heard the internal motors whine as the ramp began to lower. Talley pulled on his thick leather gloves and kicked the rappelling ropes over the edge.
    “We’re over the target,” the cabin speaker announced. “Embassy roof is fifty meters below the ramp.”
    Several shots smacked into the Osprey, as the people on the ground responded to the sight of an American military aircraft over their city. They ignored them.
    "And then it started, like a guilty thing, upon a fearful summons," Domenico Rovere intoned, rising to the occasion.
    The craft edged forward until it was suspended directly over the Embassy building.
    Someone called, "We are stationary over target," but Talley had already grasped the rappelling rope.
    "Let's go, people."
    He hurtled down the rope, which hung directly above a glass skylight set into the flat roof of the Embassy building. He could have swung away to land on the concrete, but what the hell? His boots smashed through the glass, and he landed in a heap of broken fragments and timber on the carpet of an Embassy office. It wasn't empty, and a startled Palestinian whirled to face him, bringing his AK-47 to bear. He was slow, too slow by a mile. Talley double-tapped him, and as the body fell, he ran to the door to check the passage.
    Two more Palestinians were racing along the corridor toward him. One of them mistook him for a comrade and opened his mouth to speak. His confusion lasted a split second, and then he understood his mistake. He whipped up the barrel of his AK, beginning to shout a warning. Talley fired and hit both of them, using half a clip to make sure. The alloy-plated steel jacket rounds smashed into them, ten hardened, armor-piercing bullets that shredded them in the blink of an eye.
    Another Palestinian reached the head of the staircase and turned into the passage. Another two hardened 4.6mm rounds buried themselves in his body, one in his chest and the other in his abdomen. He tried to shriek, shocked and agonized, but it emerged as a hoarse croak, and then he crumpled to the floor, near death. Talley's men were racing through the building, taking control, and he directed Rovere to