Tom Clancy Defense Protocol (A Jack Ryan Novel, Band 25) - Hardcover

Andrews, Brian; Wilson, Jeffrey

Hardcover

ISBN 10: 059371797X ISBN 13: 9780593717974

Verlag: G.P. Putnam's Sons, 2024

Inhaltsangabe

The stakes are sky-high when a minor misstatement from President Jack Ryan threatens the safety of Taiwan in this #1 New York Times bestselling series.

Every word a president utters is weighed and examined, but none more so than when he is talking about Taiwan. That's why it's shocking that President Jack Ryan seems to imply that the US has no appetite for a war to protect Taiwan from the communist Chinese on the mainland. 

President Ryan is determined to protect the independence of the island nation, but he is determined that one slip of the tongue should not cost thousands of young soldiers, sailors and Marines their lives.

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Über die Autorin bzw. den Autor

Thirty-five years ago, Tom Clancy was a Maryland insurance broker with a passion for naval history. Years before, he had been an English major at Baltimore’s Loyola College and had always dreamed of writing a novel. His first effort, The Hunt for Red October, sold briskly as a result of rave reviews, then catapulted onto the New York Times bestseller list after President Reagan pronounced it “the perfect yarn.” From that day forward, Clancy established himself as an undisputed master at blending exceptional realism and authenticity, intricate plotting, and razor-sharp suspense. He passed away in October 2013.

Navy veterans Brian Andrews and Jeffrey Wilson (Andrews & Wilson) are the writing team behind the bestselling Tier One, Sons of Valor, and Shepherds book series. Brian is a nuclear engineer and Park Leadership Fellow who served as an officer on a fast-attack submarine. Jeff is a vascular surgeon and jet pilot who conducted combat operations with an East Coast–based SEAL team. In addition to writing books, they have multiple film & television projects under development with partners at Skydance, Walden Media, Picturestart, Sony, Endeavor Content, and Imagine Entertainment.

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1

The Ryan family home

Overlooking the Chesapeake Bay

Maryland

2011 local time

Jack Ryan ground his teeth as he looked at the carnage inflicted on his Atlantic fleet. If only he could unleash a salvo instead of having to fire one damn shot at a time, then he might have a chance.

So much destruction. So much red . . .

If he didn't get a hit soon, the battle would be lost.

"C8," he said with certitude, looking up from the board at his daughter Katie, who sat opposite him at the dining room table.

She glanced down at her grid. "Miss."

"Seriously?" he said, tilting his head down to look at her over the top of the pair of reading glasses perched on his nose. "Check again."

"I don't need to check again, Dad, it's not rocket science. C8 is definitely a miss," she said with a grin. "My turn . . . J1."

He shoved his glasses back up on his nose and looked down at the gray plastic grid, where his fleet sat arranged in what he'd felt certain to be an unbeatable naval configuration. Boy, how wrong he'd been. He picked up a little red peg, stuck it into the last remaining hole at the stern of the little plastic ship, and said, "You sunk my battleship."

"Woot, woot. USS Missouri heading to the bottom of the sea," she said, pumping her hands in the air overhead. "That makes four down and one to go. The only ship you have left is your submarine."

He narrowed his eyes playfully at her. "A submarine is all I'll need to finish you off. Fear the Blackfish."

"Nuh-uh, no way. My sub is the Washington. I called dibs when we started. You gotta pick a different boat. Yours can be the Indiana."

"Hello? Commander in chief, here," he said, raising his right hand and pointing his index finger at the crown of his head. "Last time I checked, that means I am, literally, in charge of the U.S. fleet. So, if I want to designate my flagship as the Blackfish, then there's nothing you can do about it, Lieutenant Commander."

"Sorry, Dennis," she said, wistfully looking down at her little gray submarine and referencing the real-life XO of the USS Washington. "I got outranked, which means you're the enemy now."

This wasn't the first time he'd heard his daughter mention Dennis Knepper, who she'd met while riding in the elite Virginia-class fast-attack sub during a near-fatal standoff against the rogue Russian submarine Belgorod a few months ago. Jack's Spidey sense told him there might be a budding connection between them, but he'd not heard any mention of them dating. Of course, the Washington had remained on station long after his daughter's return from the crisis in the Atlantic, so at best they'd be working on a long-distance thing. He made a mental note to ask Cathy about it. Katie and her mom were thick as thieves when it came to relationship gossip. But in the event his wife decided to be tight-lipped on the matter, as commander in chief he was privileged to know the USS Washington's location at any given time . . . so keeping tabs on this potential suitor was not going to be a problem.

"What's that conniving look for?" she said, shaking him from his rumination.

"Oh, I was just thinking about how this game is nothing like naval warfare in real life. If only it could be so simple."

"If it was this simple, we wouldn't need any ship captains, or even sailors for that matter. I, for one, am glad that real life isn't controlled by a couple of callous, detached puppet masters sitting behind computer screens in the shadows. The strength of our military has always been rooted in leading from the front. It started with General Washington's tent in the Revolutionary War, and the tradition has carried on ever since."

He stared at her a moment and, feeling an upswelling of great pride, said, "In case I haven't told you lately, Katie, I love you. And I'm very proud of you. You're a fine naval officer, and one hell of an intelligence analyst."

Her cheeks went a little rosy at the comment. "Ahhh, thanks, Dad . . . But if you think flattery is going to save your fleet, then you've grossly misjudged your adversary."

They both chuckled at this and played the rest of the game out. He did manage to dispatch her aircraft carrier, but as expected, she showed him no quarter and soon found and sunk his submarine, ending their epic, father-daughter game of Battleship.

"Two out of three?" she asked as they both went to work pulling the white pegs out of the grid and depositing them in the molded containers on the sides of their iconic gray plastic clamshell game boards.

"Heck yes," he said, and momentarily stopped pulling pegs to refill their wineglasses.

"You know, sometimes I still can't believe you're the President of the United States. It's strange-almost like this is some fantasy we're making up and everyone else in the world is just going along with it. Do you ever feel that way?"

"All the time," he said with a self-deprecating smile.

"How do you make that feeling go away?"

"By trying to ground myself in the institution of the office."

"You mean like when you're sitting at the Resolute desk in the Oval?"

He nodded. "Yes, the physicality helps, but it's more the people running the government and military who I interact with every day who make it real. I see it in their eyes. Hear it in their words. Feel it from their presence. Everybody is looking to me with . . . expectation. Presidential expectation. They're counting on me to lead, and that makes it real. It's not a fantasy for them, I can tell you that."

"I've always wondered what that must feel like. I don't know how you do it, Dad. I would wilt under that kind of pressure."

"No, you wouldn't," he said with a confident shake of his head. "I've seen you under pressure, and wilting is not in your DNA."

"Thanks, but I don't know about that. Let's just say I'm glad that I'm not the Ryan in charge of representing the nation and making decisions that will affect the lives of millions. No thank you. I'll take my little office at ONI and a stack of reports to analyze and leave leading the country to you."

Your time will come, daughter, he thought, but did not say. If there's one thing I've learned in this life, it's that Fate laughs at any man who thinks he has a choice over which battles he'll have to fight.

Thankfully, for the moment, the seas were calm and the sailing smooth. In the months since the Belgorod incident, calamity had taken a sabbatical and the world had been granted a reprieve from global conflict, pandemics, terrorism, and natural disaster. He knew, of course, that this reprieve would be temporary-that the maligned forces of evil and entropy were already conspiring to unleash their next plot to bring chaos and death to the world. But tonight, the Ryan family was safe, and he would savor every second of this opportunity to sip wine and play Battleship with his daughter. Sure, he could be working. His presidential to-do list was a mile long and his inbox flooded with messages and briefs waiting to be read.

But the work could wait until tomorrow.

That was something else he'd learned over the years.

When a moment like this presented itself, sit back and enjoy it. Which was exactly what he intended to do.

2

Xinhuamen Gate

Main entrance to the Zhongnanhai government compound

174 Chang'an Avenue

Beijing, China

0740 local time

Defense Minister Qin Hâiyû crossed his legs in the comfortable leather seat of the black Hongqi H9 luxury sedan, his index finger tapping on the center armrest. It was a bad habit he'd picked up to dissipate nervous energy, all the way back to his junior officer days in the PLA Navy. Even when he'd commanded the Luyang III-class destroyer Guiyang almost a decade ago, his left index finger...

Details zur Ausgabe

• Verlag: G.P. Putnam's Sons
• Erscheinungsdatum: 2024
• Sprache: Englisch
• ISBN 10: 059371797X
• ISBN 13: 9780593717974
• Einband: Gebundene Ausgabe
• Anzahl der Seiten: 432
• Kontakt zum Hersteller: G.P. Putnam's Sons; https://www.penguin.com/putnam/; ; 1745 BROADWAY Attn: Madison Forsander; NEW YORK; NY; 10019; USA
• Verantwortliche Person: preigu; mail@preigu.de; ; Lengericher Landstr. 19; Osnabrück; 49078; Deutschland