Dead Heat (The Last Jihad, Book 5) by Joel C. Rosenberg

By Joel C. Rosenberg

The degree is determined for battle. Oil costs are surging to checklist highs. a brand new dictator is emerging in Iraq. China is threatening Taiwan. North Korean forces seem able to strike south. Israel is feverishly attempting to whole the 3rd Temple. And in the middle of an international able to explode, American president James MacPherson’s moment time period is finishing. The conflict to prevail him is heating up into the main fiercely contested presidential election in American background. Who will lead a bitterly divided kingdom over the subsequent 4 years? And simply what role—if any—does the united states play in history's final days?

As the presidential crusade narrows to a useless warmth, the key provider learns of a catastrophic terrorist plot to assassinate one of many candidates—but which one? Whom do they wish useless? and will US forces cease the terrorists prior to thousands lose their lives?

From long island occasions best-selling novelist Joel C. Rosenberg, this explosive political mystery is bound to impress dialogue, besides fervent hopes that this scary imaginative and prescient of the longer term won't come real.

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Extra resources for Dead Heat (The Last Jihad, Book 5)

Example text

I had known she would finally put me at risk. I tried to pay no attention when she stole things and presented them to me, because they were little things and of no use. A Mexican embroidered nightshirt, whereas I like to sleep in the altogether, or a silver money clip in the shape of an L for Lester, like I was some downtown lawyer, or an antique music box, for Christ’s sake, that plays “Columbia the Gem of the Ocean,” as if anyone would want to hear it more than once. Totally the wrong things for me, if it was me she was stealing for, whereas I was hard pressed to get a decent meal in this household.

I had seen enough. I woke up Karen and hustled her and the baby and all the Kmart paraphernalia into the Durango. Why, whatever is the matter, Lester? Karen said. She was still half asleep. Are we going somewhere? She looked frightened for a moment until I put Baby Wilson in her arms. I ran back to the house and grabbed some clothes and things for each of us. Then I ran back again and turned off the lights and locked the door. I could imagine them any minute coming up the road and through the woods around us at the same time.

She stood listening, Brenda, and shook her head. Lester, she said, your brains are in your balls. That is the way you are and the way you’ll always be. Goddamnit, Brenda, it’s not something I’ve done, you understand. Is this what I need to hear from you right now? She was squinting at me from the smoke drifting up into her eyes. I said, And you sometimes haven’t minded if that’s where my brain is, as I recall. Brenda is as unlike Karen as two women can be. Sturdier in mind, and shaped as if for the Bluebird clientele in her powder blue uniform with the Brenda stitched on the bosom pocket.

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