By Alexander Kent
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A terrorist assault. A killer at the unfastened. And a last, determined project . . .
Former SAS Captain, Tom Jackson, is a guy with not anything to lose. A veteran of the main risky missions the Regiment might throw at him, his existence was once torn aside the day a terrorist assault killed his kin. Now he grieves in obscurity, the realm of war not anything yet a far off memory.
However, humans better up the chain of command produce other plans for Jackson. they're in a large number in their personal making, and make him a suggestion he can’t refuse — a proposal that would take him again into the brutal theatre of battle. There’s a catastrophe ready to occur, which just one individual can assist hinder, and that individual is being held by means of the Taliban insurgency within the depths of a harsh Afghanistan iciness.
As Tom reluctantly prepares for this ultimate challenge, he does so within the wisdom that it'll cease a devastating terrorist assault — in addition to fulfill an ulterior rationale of his personal. yet as occasions start to spread, Tom suspects that somebody is enjoying a online game with him; that no-one should be relied on; and that during the murky international of foreign terrorism, issues are seldom what they appear . . .
From the exchange Paperback version.
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Additional resources for A Tradition of Victory
Bolitho turned to see the bright signal flags break from Styx’s yard. Numbers exchanged, two ships meeting on a pinpoint. To most of the hands it was a welcome diversion, as well as a sight of some additional fire power. “Heave to when convenient, if you please. ” Neale nodded. ” Bolitho took a telescope from the midshipman of the watch and walked up the deck to the weather side. He was conscious of each move and every heartbeat, like an actor about to make an entrance. He held his breath and waited for the sea to smooth itself.
She was smart for her age, and was reacting to the sight of a rear-admiral’s flag just as Bolitho had once done when he had taken Phalarope to Antigua. Neale called, “Heave to, Mr Pickthorn! ” Bolitho saw the uncertainty, the need to understand. ” Allday walked to the entry port and waited for the gig to be pulled round to the main-chains. Neale’s own coxswain nodded to Allday and allowed him to take his place at the tiller without comment. Bolitho noticed all and none of these things. So it was right through Styx already, probably every vessel under his flag.
S’not that, sir. She were different. They’ve no right to put her in the Bay, she’s too old, an’ I doubt if she ever got over the Saintes. ” Bolitho watched him, suddenly uneasy. “There’s nothing I can do. ” Allday stood up and turned beside the cannon, his head bowed between the beams. ” Bolitho bit back the sharp retort as quickly as it had formed. Why take it out on Allday? Like the midshipman on the quarterdeck who had unwittingly broken the news, he was not to blame. Bolitho said quietly, “No, Allday, she’s not.