Ring of Fire

About the Book

INSIDE THE SUPERDOME, 9:28 P.M.

Rafferty shoved President Woodson behind the immense flag-curtains. Another six Secret Service Agents swallowed the president in a protective blanket of flesh. Each agent was ready, willing, and able to take a bullet. Machinegun fire echoed nearby. Rafferty turned, his eyes wide in his face, his senses overwhelmed by potential threat. Bullets ricocheted near his head. He saw Hawke fall.

“The vice president!” one of the Secret Service Agents yelled over his shoulder.

Rafferty pushed the knot forward. “MOVE!” he screamed, the cords in the side of his neck drawing taut. The veins on his wide forehead protruded under his thinning crewcut.

Hawke’s legs spouted bloody holes as they were scythed from beneath him by M-60 fire. His own Secret Service contingent jumped forward to drag him to safety, but intense gunfire from above chewed their dedicated bodies to bits.

Screams and ricochets echoed behind the president and his protectors as they ran away from the stage. Rafferty yanked a small walky-talky from his jacket. The group raced up the narrow hallway towards an exit.

“Marine One,” Rafferty screamed into the walky-talky. “We’ve got the president! Get ready to fly!”

OUTSIDE, 9:28 P.M.

I

On the helipad near the parking garage, Marine One’s rotors were already turning. The Marine lieutenant copilot spoke into Rafferty’s ear. “Marine One is good to go, Mr. Rafferty.” His voice was surreally calm in the middle of the hellstorm that had erupted all around them.

“I hope we can dust off in these updrafts,” the pilot said. His wide eyes drank in the growing fire around them. “Tell them to hurry,”

The copilot’s eyes searched the unfriendly skies. A thin bead of sweat ran down the side of his face. “I think they already know.”

II

Henry Wolf’s Apache pirouetted on the other side of the Superdome with its nose pointed downwards. The attack helicopter raced forward.

INSIDE, 9:29 P.M.

I

The first of the terrorists hit the floor, their combat boots standing heedlessly atop broken bodies. They released the rappelling lines, freeing themselves. The debris from the shattered steel roof laid scattered amongst colorful balloons and abandoned banners. Blood covered the Superdome floor. It soaked into the signs, splattered balloons, covered the terrorists’ feet.

Matthias tightly tucked his M60E3 to his shoulder. Howling with rage, he hosed the stage down with bullets. Glittering brass bullet casings flew as the heavy machinegun devoured ammunition. His cadre formed a protective perimeter, indiscriminately firing their weapons. The roof was punctured with seven neat holes two hundred and seventy feet above their heads. The edges around the series of new openings bent downwards, the steel as twisted and skewed as the men that had rent it. Lighting flashed hotly in the sky beyond.

What little security was left inside the Superdome shot back at the terrorists, underpaid cops firing underpowered sidearms. A heavy barrage of burst fired ammo obliterated the feeble opposition. Most of the Superdome’s security force was already busy with the battle raging outside. The terrorists turned their sights back on the fleeing delegates as the last security officer still on the convention floor fell.

About the Author

Lee graduated the University of Florida with a Bachelors Degree in Political Science in 1986. Since then he has written three novels, including my first one that you are now holding in your hands. My second novel, APOCALYPSE RISING, was very nearly published by Penguin Putnum, and although it was ultimately not published, I still value the experience I had with them. Unfortunately, my agent has since retired, so I’m presently in search of new representation for my third novel, RING OF FIRE. I am also working on a fourth book, STALK.MISSYCAM.COM, a work I like to describe as a “tragic thriller.”