Cushing in the Crosshairs
by
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The woman hissed a command back into the microphone attached to the neck of her black garment as she slowly pulled the Kalashnikov from its resting place beside her left hip. Kirk readjusted his binoculars to the lower east door and found the outline of a figure standing against the door, his automatic weapon at his side. Sweeping his binoculars across the third level, he found the small light that had just come on in the middle of the building's double row of windowless openings. This was not a shot Kirk would ever attempt to take. The building was three quarters of a mile away and dusk was now upon them. Only the elite of the experts would even try such a shot, but the woman lying beside him was one of the masters that taught the experts.
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About the Book
God, how he hated this part of the job. For two days and nights he laid in the filth surrounding him as the temperature soared to one hundred and twenty in the day before plunging to thirty at night. He sweated like a pig all day and was half frozen by the time the sun peeked over the hill each morning. Lifting his left arm slightly to relieve the pressure from his elbows, he felt the sharp jab in his side. She was letting him know he had moved too fast , and not to do it again. Taking the binoculars from his face he slowly turned and looked at the woman lying beside him. Her name was Maryam Washid, a 31 year old from Afghanistan, Kirk was about to say something ugly to her when the receiver in both of their ears hissed before a metallic voice spoke the words for which they had been waiting the last forty eight hours. The woman hissed a command back into the microphone attached to the neck of her black garment as she slowly pulled the Kalashnikov from its resting place beside her left hip.
About the Author
This is the thirteenth book the author has written in the seven years he has been retired. The idea for this book came from a skydiving experience he had in Cushing, Oklahoma, three years ago. As the pilot climbed through the clouds the author noticed the hundreds of round oil storage tanks scattered across the south half of Cushing. Upon investigations he found out why there was so many oil storage tanks in such a small town. His investigation revealed Cushing was the central hub of all the pipe lines crossing middle America. This formed the basis of this book when he started thinking about the security of our oil reserves in the United States and how exposed they seemed to be from his view at twelve thousand feet.