The assault on America begins with an attack on Red Harmon’s family . . .   Trained to endure extreme danger and survive impossible odds, elite military operator Red Harmon has battled our nation’s enemies for years. While in the Rocky Mountains for R&R, his family is violently attacked by an international squad of assassins. No ordinary wet-team, this group is only the vanguard of a power play threatening national security.   Danger is everywhere . . .   Red and his young daughter escape a brutal firefight, but are separated from his wife. Evading though the woodlands, stripped of his unit’s support, Red puts his survival skills to the test all the way from Pikes Peak National Forest to Israel’s West Bank. He must defend his country, protect his family, and identify the unthinkable forces that are willing to slaughter anyone in their path. David McCaleb was raised on a farm on the rural Eastern Shore of Virginia. He attended Valley Forge Military College, graduated from the United States Air Force Academy, and served his country as a finance officer. He also founded a bullet manufacturing operation, patented his own invention, and established several businesses. He returned to the Eastern Shore, where he resides with his wife and two children. Though he enjoys drawing, painting, and any project involving the work of hands, his chosen tool is the pen.   Recon is the third novel in the Red Ops series that began with the acclaimed thriller Recall , which was nominated for the International Thriller Writers Best First Novel Award, and continued in Reload . Please visit David McCaleb on Facebook or at www.davidmccaleb.com. Recon A Red Ops Thriller By David McCaleb KENSINGTON PUBLISHING CORP. Copyright © 2018 David McCaleb All rights reserved. ISBN: 978-1-60183-867-4 CHAPTER 1 Betrayal Frederick Johnson squinted through a scope mounted atop a Remington 783. The crosshairs wavered over a red-bearded man throttling a black Ford Explorer toward him on a dirt driveway wild as a cat escaping a bath. Out here in farm country with no other cars in view, a man could drive that way, Frederick supposed. A quarter mile of lush soybeans stretched between him and Red Man. A mist hovered a few feet above the leafy green carpet, the fog uncommon in June. The low angle of the early morning sun blazed it with gilded brilliance. He shrugged off a cold shiver that crept up his neck. Sweat beaded on the bald spot atop his head and trickled down unshaven cheeks, dripping onto his blue jeans. Ever since he'd turned forty, he'd sweat just reading the paper. The vehicle sped toward the end of the long driveway. "Brake ... brake," Frederick whispered as the Explorer jerked to either side of the path, dodging potholes. A dust trail rose behind it and melded with the fog. The way this guy drove, the only chance he'd have of a clear shot would be when the vehicle stopped at the end of the lane. "Five hundred meters," his spotter murmured. "This guy drives like a maniac." Wendy was crouched beside him in the hunting hide, shrouding her eyes behind rangefinder binoculars. Shiny, jet-black hair hung in a ponytail. Her bare arms were skinny as hell. Not the anorexic, lingerie-model brand. More like the steel cable, personal trainer, trying to prove women-can-do-anything-a-man-can-do- but-better kind of thin. Yet she'd been a quick study, even for a girl. And could think on her feet. On a prior job they'd been trailing their mark on foot when he'd made an unexpected turn. She'd choked him out with bare hands. Maybe he'd have to change his attitude about hit men being an all-male club. Hit person? Nah. "Three hundred fifty," she murmured. Frederick kept the crosshairs over Red Man, then reached long fingers and twisted the elevation knob two clicks, zeroing the scope at two hundred meters, the end of the drive. The Remington was chambered in .243, a hyperfast, flat-firing round. He'd chosen ammo with heavier 115-grain bullets since the projectile would pass through windshield glass. The weightier shot would decrease deflection. A wisp of haze, a specter's arm, reached from the foggy floor and floated across the scope's field of view. Red Man twisted the wheel, and the vehicle veered almost completely off the drive. Frederick chased him with the crosshairs. The Explorer wasn't slowing. "Brake, damn it!" At the end of the drive the SUV slid and accelerated onto the main road with a chirp of rubber. The speeding engine sang over the field, and a flock of crows exploded into the air from beneath the fog blanket. "Shit!" he huffed, raising his head from the rifle as the vehicle raced away. "Why didn't you take the shot?" He lifted the bolt handle and yanked it back. The ejected round flew toward Wendy's head, and she snatched it from the air like a striking cobra. "No clear chance. I'm good, but no sniper. Even the best would have a hard time hitting a moving target like that. Plus, his wife wasn't with him." She dr