Patriot M.A. Rothman Primordial Press Copyright © 2021 Michael A. Rothman Cover Art by M.S. Corley This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. All rights reserved. Also By M.A. Rothman Technothrillers: (Thrillers with science / Hard-Science Fiction) • Primordial Threat • Freedom’s Last Gasp • Darwin’s Cipher Levi Yoder Thrillers: • Perimeter • The Inside Man • Never Again Connor Sloane Thrillers: • Patriot • The Death Speech • Project Thor Epic Fantasy / Dystopian: • Agent of Prophecy • Heirs of Prophecy • Tools of Prophecy • Lords of Prophecy • Running From Destiny • The Code Breaker • Dispocalypse • The Plainswalker • The Sage’s Tower Contents Messages Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Chapter 15 Chapter 16 Chapter 17 Chapter 18 Chapter 19 Chapter 20 Chapter 21 Chapter 22 Chapter 23 Chapter 24 Chapter 25 Chapter 26 Chapter 27 Chapter 28 Chapter 29 Chapter 30 Chapter 31 Chapter 32 Chapter 33 Chapter 34 Chapter 35 Chapter 36 Chapter 37 Chapter 38 Chapter 39 Chapter 40 Chapter 41 Chapter 42 Chapter 43 Chapter 44 Chapter 45 Chapter 46 Author’s Note Preview of The Death Speech Addendum About the Author Deep Sea Research and Salvage 58-1 Nazeuragami, Amami 894-0068, Kagoshima Prefecture Mr. Mohammad Hakimi: This is in regards to the salvage operation we conducted on your behalf 152 kilometers southeast of Kikaijima Island. The payment that you provided was not honored by your banking institution. We regret that you must be charged a ten percent late penalty. Payment in full, including the penalty, must be received by us within the next thirty days or we will have to contact our attorneys on this matter. Your assistance in this matter is appreciated. Sincerely yours, Yoshi Takahashi Executive Director, DSRE TO: Connor Sloane, Analyst - CIA SUBJ: UDC Query Response – Broken Arrow @ 152 km SE of Kikaijima Island Per your request, I conducted a search of the Central Records System and found no evidence of any US assets being lost in that vicinity. However, a search of the National Archives yielded some results that you may find interesting. In December of 1965, there are records documenting the loss of a military asset at 27°33.2’N, 131°19.3E, which is within a five-mile radius of your stated query. It resulted in the loss of an A4-E Skyhawk attack aircraft. It was carrying a B43 nuclear payload, with an estimated explosive yield of one megaton. I’ve attached details regarding the payload as well as a scan of the now unclassified ship’s deck log of the USS Ticonderoga dated December 5th, 1965. Sincerely, Kaitlyn Shaw Archives Technician (3A) Chapter One Mohammad Hakimi watched the operation from the captain’s overlook, five decks above, holding his breath as the half-century-old aircraft swung uneasily over the unusually calm waters of the East China Sea. He cringed as the crane’s motor whined under the strain of the water-soaked airframe being transferred between the two massive ships. Lightning flashed, throwing dancing shadows across the deck, and Mohammad tapped nervously on the metal railing, knowing that within minutes, the incoming storm could ruin everything. Floodlights erected around the loading area illuminated the workers watching the operation along the gunwale. The operation’s foreman stood on a raised platform, pointing and shouting as the men below pulled on guide wires, turning the wrecked airframe so it was aligned properly with the marked section on the receiving deck. Lightning again flashed across the sky, this time much closer, and the concussive blast from the thunder sent vibrations through Mohammad’s chest. One of the men aimed a floodlight at the twisted frame of the fighter jet. Its wings were partly torn off, the back section was completely gone, water spilled from the cockpit and engine intakes, and the bent and dented fuselage was covered with coral. Mohammad could just make out the emblem below the cockpit, a boomerang and compass inside a circular badge. The number 402, on the aircraft’s nose, had been covered by coral and worn away long ago, but the squadron emblem, partial frame number, and what looked like an intact payload still affixed to the underside of the aircraft told him everything he needed to know. This was the plane he was looking for. It had been lost at sea in 1965. At the time, the Americans used all the means they could to retrieve it, but the depths of the ocean—and fate—were against them. And despite it being a “broken arrow incident”—meaning an accidental loss of a nuclear asset—they had seemingly forgotten about it. Mohammad smiled as he watched the salvaged wreck hovering in the air, free from the crevasse it had been hiding in for more than half a century. This American loss might just enable him to deliver justice, in Allah’s name, to those who wanted to destroy everything about his way of life. They would finally know the power of the one true god. Allahu Akbar, he thought, fingers squeezing the rail as the boat shifted under the first swells of the incoming storm. The odds of finding this wreck, this instrument of vengeance, had been almost zero, yet here it was. God was most certainly great. The aircraft, having cleared the gap between the ships, swung lazily back and forth over the receiving deck. Deckhands rushed to maneuver the wreckage over the predetermined area, struggling to keep their balance as the ship began to roll under their feet. Metal groaned and creaked as the crane lowered the wreckage onto the deck. “It’s glorious, my friend,” said Ramzi bin Sadir. He stood beside Mohammad, his forearms resting on the rail. The rain had matted his long hair across his face, and water dripped from his close-cut beard. Lightning flashed again, illuminating his smile. “Isn’t it?” Mohammad nodded. “It is.” On the deck, the foreman shouted at his men again, though Mohammad didn’t understand his rapid-fire Japanese. Two of the deckhands had anchored their retaining strap to the wrong clamp and were seemingly catching hell for it. The foreman pointed wildly, throwing his arms in the air, pacing and barking like a crazed maniac. This was all likely a show for Mohammad’s benefit, especially since he’d instructed the captain that if they made their journey ahead of schedule
