Page 129 of Tom Clancy Line of Sight

“That’s stupid. There isn’t going to be a World War Three.”

“It is the truth.”

“How? A bunch of Serbs get killed. So what? Who cares? That’s like a bunch of dead ragheads—”

WHACK!

Emir backhanded Jack again.

Just like Jack hoped he would.

“Watch your mouth, Ryan. Or you’ll watch that screen without any teeth in your ugly head.”

Jack shook off the sting. “Enlighten me, shit-for-brains.”

Emir stood over Jack. “You Americans don’t know history. You don’t know anything! Except your filthy rap music and pornography.”

“Don’t knock ’em if you haven’t tried ’em.” Jack shifted beneath the stranglehold of duct tape.

Emir raised his hand to strike again and Jack shut his eyes, wincing, preparing for the blow.

Emir stayed his hand and laughed. “Not so tough now, eh?”

“Take off this tape and I’ll show you.”

Emir’s eyes flared with hatred. He turned his back to watch the screen.

Being ignored wasn’t part of Jack’s plan. He tried another tack.

“Okay, so enlighten me. How does killing Serbs start World War Three?”

Emir turned back around. “Commander Brkic has thought of everything. We will claim responsibility for the strike, the Russians will invade, and NATO will fight Russia.”

“What kind of strike? A bomb? Chemicals? Biologics?”

“None of your business. Just watch—and pray.”

“Don’t tell me to pray, you satanic little fuck.”

WHACK!

Jack didn’t wince that time, despite the welt forming beneath his beard.

“Shit, dude. That almost hurt. You hit like my little sister, only not as hard.”

WHACK!

“C’mon, you little goat fucker. That’s the best you got?” Jack roared with laughter. “No wonder you could never close the deal with Aida.” He shook his head, grinning. “Man, that girl sure liked to—”

“Shut up!” Emir drew his big semiauto Colt and pointed it at Jack. “Time to die!”

“Oh, no, no, no, little fella. Aida said you had to wait until after the big show before you pulled that trigger.”

“Pray to Allah he will accept you into His Paradise, infidel.” Emir racked the slide. The heavy .45-caliber bullet already in the chamber ejected, bouncing on the floorboards.

“You dropped one, chief.”

“No worries, Jack. Plenty more where that came from.”