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The Caliban Program: Eric Ritter Spy Thriller, #1
The Caliban Program: Eric Ritter Spy Thriller, #1
The Caliban Program: Eric Ritter Spy Thriller, #1
Ebook60 pages46 minutes

The Caliban Program: Eric Ritter Spy Thriller, #1

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Months after 9/11, a covert arm of the CIA summons young Lieutenant Eric Ritter to Pakistan. Al Qaeda holds an American operative, and Ritter’s history with the kidnapper is key to rescuing the operative before it’s too late.

While the CIA need Ritter’s help, they consider him an expendable asset and throw him into a battle he isn’t ready for. Deep inside a hostile city, Ritter will learn what it takes to fight the cloak and dagger war against a merciless enemy, or die trying.

Contains an excerpt from INTO DARKNESS, the first full length novel of the Eric Ritter Spy Thriller series.

 

LanguageEnglish
PublisherRichard Fox
Release dateFeb 25, 2015
ISBN9781507035986
The Caliban Program: Eric Ritter Spy Thriller, #1
Author

Richard Fox

Brent Ryan Bellamy (Toronto, ON, CA) is an instructor in the English and cultural studies departments at Trent University and is co-editor of An Ecotopian Lexicon and Materialism and the Critique of Energy. He teaches courses in science fiction, graphic fiction, American literature and culture, and critical worldbuilding. He currently studies narrative, US literature and culture, science fiction, and the cultures of energy.

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    Book preview

    The Caliban Program - Richard Fox

    2002

    Lieutenant Eric Ritter was well and truly lost. When he pondered where he was, the answer was simple; he was on a private plane. He had no idea where the plane was or its final destination, which brought him back to the conclusion that he was indeed lost. As the only passenger of the aircraft, the problem was his alone.

    Ritter looked out over the wing and into darkness. He counted the steady blink of the wing lights and scanned for any sign of civilization. He hadn’t seen any sign of urban sprawl for hours. The location of the last refueling stop was also a mystery since the pilot lowered all the window shades by remote before they landed and kept them down until they were back in the air. Ritter wasn’t sure if that was to keep him from looking out or to prevent others from looking in.

    Banging on the cockpit door and demanding answers accomplished nothing other than a stern Return to your seat! over the P.A system. The only doors open to him were the lavatory and a refrigerator stocked with soda and freezer-burnt entrees. Ritter sighed and rummaged through the fridge for the eighth time, finally deciding to eat what might be a bean and cheese burrito.

    Not having questions answered became a trend once a rather well-built major intercepted him outside of the Fort Huachuca lecture hall. The major told him that he was being pulled from the Military Intelligence officer’s basic course and reassigned, effective immediately. Ritter had new orders that would be explained at a later time and he was required to leave with the major, also immediately. No chance to share farewells with his fellow lieutenants or even sign out with the orderly room.  The major, Jones according to his name tape, then led him to a white van with government plates and drove Ritter back to his apartment.

    No cell phone. No government identification, uniforms or electronic devices, were the only words Jones said as Ritter scrambled through his disheveled bachelor pad grabbing things he thought he might need. Ritter changed into civilian clothes and gathered a small bag of toiletries. Ritter almost asked if he could make a call to his parents, but the look of near-murder in Jones’s eyes as he brought out his cell phone told him that idea was a no-go.

    They left Ritter’s apartment and drove to a small civilian airport just north of Fort Huachuca. A motley assortment of single engine planes crowded the only hanger; a larger private airliner waited on the tarmac, stairs lowered and impatient engines whining. Ritter had started to utter a protest, but stopped when he saw the tremble in the Major’s lip and his ogre hands grip the steering wheel hard enough to cause a groan of protest from the steering column. Ritter concluded that if he didn’t get on the plane at full combat speed he would be thrown on in a less-than-gentle manner.

    The stairs rose as soon as Ritter stumbled into the plane which lurched into movement soon after. No pre-flight safety briefing, no stewardess and no reminder about the FAA’s stern policy against smoking. That was eighteen hours ago, by Ritter’s watch.

    Ritter tossed the mystery burrito into the microwave and hoped for the best as he watched the microwave’s timer tick down. Not for the first time, he wondered if there was a pilot and copilot in the cockpit. No one had come out to eat or use the facilities since he’d come aboard. He chided himself for such useless speculating, and went back to speculating why he was even in this situation.

    Had his father’s foreign contacts triggered some sort of alarm with Military Intelligence? As one of the world’s leading petroleum engineers, Ritter’s father was well traveled and well known in every country with hydrocarbon reserves. Perhaps one of those Russian venture capitalists was involved in something treacherous and—the PA system chimed, interrupting his speculation.

    The fasten seatbelt light came on, and Ritter felt the aircraft press ever so slightly against his feet as it began its descent. Ritter looked at the still cooking burrito, and sighed heavily. He plopped down and buckled himself in before looking out the windows as the shutters slowly closed by their own volition. Automatic shutters, on an otherwise no-frills aircraft, made Ritter wonder what kind of airline he was flying on.

    Below him was a sea of densely packed lights, a highway

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