She’s flanked by enemies, inside and out. Can this dedicated officer execute a strategy to save a colleague’s life before they’re both MIA? South Korea. 2013. Navy Captain Kate Mahoney is fighting battles on all fronts. When a Navy doctor reports suspicions of a botulism strike at an American facility, the rising 7th Fleet star orders an immediate investigation. And her challenges multiply when she learns a fellow female pilot is missing in North Korea… Facing her own trials when a former superior threatens to court martial her, Mahoney vows to do whatever it takes to bring the woman home. But with intel of biological weapons hidden in the dictator-ruled country putting everyone on high alert, the captain’s mission to extract the tortured captive hits a serious hurdle when the country’s leader parades her on international media. Will she and those under her command survive the final assault? Points Of Attack is the pulse-pounding third book in the Mahoney & Squire Military Fiction series. If you like courageous characters, intense suspense, and page-turning plot twists, then you’ll love this thrilling drama from Mike Krentz, US Navy Captain, Medical Corps (retired). Buy Points Of Attack for swift retaliation today! Couldn't put it down! Intense, gritty, tightly plotted and emotionally charged, POINTS OF ATTACK is another thrilling entry in this fascinating series focused on the unique challenges confronted by modern military women. Mike Krentz is a born storyteller and an insightful observer of the complex relationships that define life in the pressure-cooker atmosphere of a Naval warship. — Jayne Ann Krentz, NYT Bestselling Author EXCERPT: Chapter Two Troy   Where else in the world could a US Navy lieutenant doctor fresh from family practice residency run his own low volume, low acuity medical practice in an exotic land far removed from meddling medical bureaucrats? Doctor Troy Pearson, Lieutenant, Medical Corps, United States Navy, relished his job as medical officer-in-charge of the small clinic at the sleepy US Navy station adjoining the vast Republic of Korea (ROK) Navy base near the quaint town of Chinhae, South Korea. A short ride away, the sparkling resort city of Busan offered unfettered access to robust night life—a fabulous playground for a handsome single American doctor. Six months into his one-year tour, Troy had already requested an extension of his orders for another twelve months. Cooled down and showered from his vigorous morning workout at the base gym, Troy swaggered through the front doors of  his  clinic. Mrs. Moon intercepted him. Fear distorted the South Korean clinic manager's usually placid face. Her voice quivered. "We need you right away in the main treatment room." Without waiting for his reaction, she motioned him down the short hallway. Troy dumped his gym bag at the door and followed Mrs. Moon into the treatment room. A distraught mother, whom Troy recognized as one of the Navy spouses on base, clutched the hand of a child about six-years-old, lying still on a stretcher. Two hospital corpsmen fretted over the young patient. Troy did not need a wealth of medical training to see that the child was gravely ill. He spoke to the senior corpsman. "What?" The mother looked up, recognized him, and answered. "He's so weak, Doctor. He couldn't swallow a glass of orange juice. Now he can't even sit up." Troy glanced at the two corpsmen. Their distraught expressions mirrored those of Mrs. Moon and the mother. Troy steeled himself not to succumb to the aura of fear that permeated the room. He thought about his emergency department rotation while a resident at Naval Hospital Camp Pendleton, CA. "Take your own pulse first," the sage ED attending had counseled him. Troy took a breath, moved to the boy, and tried to engage him with a smile. No response. The child's eyelids drooped at half-mast. Troy used his thumbs to raise the lids to full open. The pupils pointed in different directions. "Diplopia," Troy said. He inserted a wooden tongue blade into the boy's mouth. The child did not resist. The tongue and mucous membranes appeared dry. Troy touched the soft palate with the tip of the blade, stimulating a weak gag reflex. He looked at the mother. "Can he talk?" "A little, but he sounds drunk." Troy told the boy to squeeze his hand, but the child could not grip, only flexed his fingers. Troy moved each of his patient's arms and legs through normal range of motion. Like trying to make a soggy, well-used rope stiff again. "Flaccid paralysis." The mother gasped. "Paralyzed? He's paralyzed? It can't be polio. He's had all his shots." Troy wished he could remember the woman's name. He touched her shoulder. "He's not paralyzed, but weak. Not polio. Could be several things. We can't do much for him here. We need to transfer him to a Korean hospital in Busan." He worked at keeping his voice calm as he turned to Mrs. Moon. "Call St. Mary's Medical Center and tel