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Summary
Summary
Moving from the Pentagon to the Middle East, filled with intrigue, adventure, and danger, this is the latest adrenaline-pumped military thriller from the New York Times bestselling master
When a military coup in Iran leads to a crackdown on religious jihadists, it seems as if a new era is dawning in the Middle East, especially when the new leader, General Buzhazi, seeks to normalize relations with both America and Israel. But the Iranians are not really interested in peace . . .
In the guise of pursuing and destroying Islamic militants, Buzhazi is planting thousands of Iranian Pasdaran special-ops troops throughout the oil-rich Kurdish region of northern Iraq, and in a lightning quick operation brutally occupies the territory.Unveiling its new military might, it invades northern Iraq, catching the world--and America--completely off-guard. To regain control of the region, America will rely on her own ultimate weapon: Patrick McLanahan and his team of special high-tech operatives.
Filled with the latest cutting-edge weaponry, geopolitical intrigue, high-flying suspense, and a colorful cast of characters, Untitled promises to be one of New York Times bestselling author Dale Brown's best.
Author Notes
Dale Brown was born on November 2, 1956 in Buffalo, New York. He graduated from Penn State University with a degree in Western European history, where he wrote a column for the University's newspaper, The Daily Collegian. He went on to freelance for computer magazines, such as Run and Compute's Gazette for Commodore.
He received an Air Force Commission in 1978 and while there, he received the Air Force Commendation Medal, the Combat Crew Medal and a Marksmanship Ribbon. He also wrote for several military base newspapers while he was still enlisted. He left the Air Force as a Captain and remains a multi-engine and instrument rated private pilot. He is a director and volunteer pilot for AirLifeLine, a nonprofit national medical transport for needy people who cannot afford to travel for medical attention.
He is the author of several series including Dale Brown's Dreamland and, Patrick McLanahan. Dreamland. His title Tiger's Claw made The New York Times Best Seller List for 2012.
(Bowker Author Biography)
Reviews (4)
Publisher's Weekly Review
Bestseller Brown (Edge of Battle) takes the subject of his latest from current headlines--the rapprochement between Iran and Russia (the former wants to secure nuclear technology, the latter a new foothold in the Middle East). The emergence of an Iranian nuclear arsenal sets off a crisis, which the usual high-tech weaponry and clean-cut American flyboys (and now girls) deal with as effectively as ever in Brown's fictional world. The author presents his Iranian characters as more than cardboard villains, skillfully showing the influence of Islamic culture on their motivations. Of course, Brown also provides plenty of fast action and exotic hardware, like the XR-A9 space plane, plus such nice touches as a U.S. president who wants to make a space flight. Techno-thriller fans and aviation buffs will be well rewarded. (May) (c) Copyright PWxyz, LLC. All rights reserved
Booklist Review
All but Brown's most avid fans, of whom there are many, are likely to give up on the latest Patrick McLanahan adventure. Although recent efforts have indicated a general smoothing out of the author's clunky prose style, this one makes it look as though he has gone downhill. Turgid is an understatement for this bloated, slow-moving opus. Dialogue scenes go on way longer than they need to, and the dialogue is painfully inept. Expository paragraphs and narrative descriptions are dull, as though Brown got the information down on paper as quickly as he could, intending to go back later and make it readable. On the other hand, the thriller plot will draw action fans--a Middle Eastern rebel leader calls on Patrick, his old nemesis, to help him defend himself against a terrorist army--and those who can't get enough high-tech gimmickry will enjoy Brown's latest inventions, including a suborbital space plane that sounds really cool. But wading through the book is like wading through rain-soaked mud: painful and exhausting for all but the truly motivated.--Pitt, David Copyright 2007 Booklist
Kirkus Review
Techno-thriller specialist Brown, who never met a weapons system, real or imagined, he could resist, piles them on in spectacular quantity, pitting his Air Force hero Patrick McLanahan (Air Battle Force, 2003, etc.) against everything Iran can throw at him and his gadgets. Those dumb bunnies in Congress. Will they ever learn that Lt. Gen. McLanahan, with his laser cannons, space fortresses, robots, drones, killer satellites and fuels of the future, always knows best how to handle the Dark Forces that threaten America. Alas, no. As usual, the knuckleheads in the capital and subversive members of the president's own staff are looking for ways to throttle funding for McLanahan's latest and most fabulous gizmo, "The Stud," a sleek aircraft capable of easing itself into outer space and orbiting while toting enough payload to incinerate several missile sites and God knows how many armies of terrorists. Who wouldn't want a fleet of such swell planes? Well, the usual dunderheads in the Pentagon--dinosaurs wedded to their old oxygen-breathing subsonic bombers and slow-as-molasses carrier task forces, systems that show up days late and dollars short against the ballistic threats wielded by the Ayatollah's loyal armies--that's who. And Iran is at the boil. There's a disgraced former head of the defense forces stirring up enough trouble that the Islamic Republic could erupt in civil war, and it's making the mullahs crazy. They're ready to fire off their secret supply of missiles at targets all over Europe, the Middle East and the Indian Ocean to defend their insane dreams. Fortunately for the free world, McLanahan never takes no for an answer, even when it comes from the top, and before the Persians blow up the free world, McLanahan sends not only several Studs, but a handful of wonderful two-story-tall Tin Men--big, tough robots containing real live soldiers--to kick ass to Kingdom Qom. Equal-opportunity employer Brown's warrior gals achieve near parity with the gents, and there's a cute Persian princess. Oh, and Russians. Copyright ©Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.
Library Journal Review
The clerics are out of power in Iran, but with terrorists declaring war on the new pro-West regime, U.S. presidential advisor Patrick McLanahan must come to the rescue. (c) Copyright 2010. Library Journals LLC, a wholly owned subsidiary of Media Source, Inc. No redistribution permitted.
Excerpts
Excerpts
Strike Force A Novel Prologue Orumiyeh Airport Islamic Republic of Iran March 2008 "Group, atten- shun! " The group of five hundred uniformed young men and women snapped to attention, and the reviewing party marched from their waiting position in a large white tent on the edge of the tarmac. The group leader saluted the reviewing party, who returned his salute. The reviewing party turned about-face as the flags of the Islamic Republic of Iran, the Armed Forces of the Islamic Republic, the Ministry of the Interior, and the Internal Defense Corps were marched out. The presiding officer of the reviewing party saluted, as did the entire assembly, followed by the playing of "Ey Iran," a popular inspirational and patriotic song often preferred by the military over the pro-revolutionary official national anthem "Sorood-e Melli-ye Jomhoori-ye Eslami-ye Iran." After the song concluded, the presiding officer stepped up to a podium, and the crowd of about two thousand guests and base employees were asked to be seated. "Citizens, friends, families, and fellow warriors, I bid you welcome on this glorious and important morning here in Orumiyeh," Major-General Hesarak al-Kan Buzhazi began. "I am proud to preside over this important occasion for the Islamic Republic of Iran. On behalf of His Holiness Imam Sayyed Mostafa Shirazemi, may God bless his name; president Masoud Ahmadad; senior adviser to the Supreme Defense Council His Holiness Hassan Mohtaz, may God preserve him; the chief of staff General Hoseyn Yassini; and the commander of the Revolutionary Guards Corps Lieutenant-General Muhammad Badi, I hereby activate the First Combined Border Defense Battalion." There was a short ceremony, during which Buzhazi unfurled the battalion flag and tied the combat-ready ribbon atop it, then handed the flag to its new commander and saluted him. Tall and slender, with gray hair worn slightly on the longish side and with a closely cropped gray beard and mustache, Buzhazi looked much younger than his sixty-one years. He wore a dark winter-weight fatigue jacket with no insignia on it except his general's stars on his shoulders (but they were also black and hard to see from a distance), thick black fatigue pants, tanker boots, and a black visor cap with the earflaps folded up. He clasped the commander on the shoulders, kissed him on each cheek, returned his salute, and returned to the podium to finish his speech. "I hope you all realize the significance of this ceremony today," Buzhazi went on. His voice was deep, sharp, and clipped, and he spoke without notes. "As you know, the Supreme Leader, may God protect him, has ordained that one out of every ten citizens of Iran over the age of majority serve in the active or reserve military forces, so in case the forces of evil attack us, we can be ready. As we are a peaceful nation, maintaining a force this large is difficult and expensive, so persons not serving in the active-duty military forces are assigned to local militias, the Basij-i-mostazefin , what used to be called the 'Army of the Oppressed.' I don't know about you, my friends, but I would not have liked being assigned to an army with the term 'oppressed' in its title. "When I resigned my post as chief of staff of the Armed Forces of the Islamic Republic and accepted the post of commander of the Basij, I found a force of willing and energetic men and women of all ages who desired nothing more than to serve their country, both as hard-working citizens and as defenders. What they lacked was proper training, motivation, and purpose. My goal was to transform the best of the Basij into a true fighting force, capable of not just assisting the active-duty forces, but complementing them. Ladies and gentlemen, and especially my fellow warriors, may I present to you, the First Combined Border Defense Battalion, The Lions, of the newly designated Islamic Republic of Iran Internal Defense Force!" Amidst a round of enthusiastic applause, a procession of vehicles moved onto the tarmac from the north hangar area, surrounded by security guards in armored vehicles. The first vehicle was a ground support vehicle towing a single engine, two-man aircraft; the second was a road-mobile surface-to-air missile vehicle; and the third was a mobile anti-aircraft artillery vehicle. "My friends, let me introduce you to the three main weapon systems now being deployed with the First," Buzhazi went on. "The aircraft is a Swiss-made Pilatus PC-6 turboprop aircraft. Normally these aircraft are just trainers--Switzerland does not build any of its aircraft to be used for combat--but we have modified them to act as close air support, photo-intelligence, and counter-insurgency attack aircraft. They even carry heat-seeking missiles to combat enemy aircraft. "The second is an Almaz S-300 mobile surface-to-air missile launcher. It is designed to engage and destroy aircraft at very low altitude, even stealth aircraft, helicopters, and cruise missiles--it can even detect and destroy helicopters hovering close to the ground or behind trees; it also has an excellent high-altitude engagement capability, and is effective out to fifty kilometers. It is designed to deploy to isolated field locations so as to make it more difficult for enemy aircraft to target it. It is an older air defense system, but our best military engineers have upgraded and refurbished it so it is far better than new. "The third vehicle is a 2S6M Tunguska anti-aircraft artillery system, with two 30-millimeter radar- or infrared-guided cannons, capable of a combined firing rate of five thousand rounds per minute, plus eight 9M311M anti-aircraft missiles, capable of destroying low- to medium-altitude targets out to a range of ten kilometers." Buzhazi applauded along with the audience as the three weapon systems were towed right behind the unit members. It truly made a very impressive sight. Behind them, security and maintenance vehicles cruised slowly along the taxiway. "These weapons represent the first time a reserve force has been given such advanced weapon systems," Buzhazi went on. "I am proud to award this unit the combat-ready ribbon, which represents this unit's high marks in field exercises, testing, and inspections. I am pleased to present to you the officers and senior non-commissioned officers of each regiment. They are the most important element of this new, vital defense force that will ensure the security of our great nation. They have undergone a rigorous and intensive training program, trained not just to use these weapon systems but in how to best deploy them in case of national emergency, to counter whatever threat exists to our great land and defeat them. They are some of the best I have ever had the pleasure of commanding, and I am proud of each and every one of them." As Buzhazi read the names and watched as the men came forward, he sensed a slight disturbance somewhere distant from the audience. He turned to look over his left shoulder but saw nothing out of the ordinary--plenty of security on hand to keep any curious onlookers from straying too close to the hardware. He read off a few more names, but still that feeling persisted, and so this time he turned fully around and studied the area. A security vehicle with blue flashing lights on the roof was escorting what appeared to be a technical maintenance vehicle, basically a medium-sized eight-ton truck with a small crane on the front to load and unload missiles and ammunition. Both were common sights--why was he feeling so uneasy? Everything looked completely . . . . . . and at that instant, the two vehicles quickly accelerated and headed straight for the ceremony area--and now Buzhazi could see a line of security cars and armored vehicles racing out of the hangar area toward them, lights and sirens on, pursuing the two vehicles! " Get out! " Buzhazi shouted into the microphone. "Get out of here, now!" The crowd stood still, heads excitedly turning back and forth, but no one was moving. "I said, run! Everyone run! " He turned to a couple of guards who were standing about thirty meters away, AK-47 rifles slung on their shoulders. "You! Guards! Stop those vehicles!" But it was too late. Buzhazi had enough time to run away from the podium toward the base operations building, wildly motioning for the crowd to follow him, when the truck plowed into the S-300 surface-to-air missile launcher. There was a small explosion, perhaps from a bit of gasoline ignited by a spark . . . and then seconds later the thousand kilos of high explosives packed into the rear of the truck detonated. Buzhazi felt himself picked off his feet by a red-hot wave of energy, along with pieces of concrete, burning fuel and metal, and body parts, and flung through the air. Strike Force A Novel . Copyright © by Dale Brown. Reprinted by permission of HarperCollins Publishers, Inc. All rights reserved. Available now wherever books are sold. Excerpted from Strike Force by Dale Brown All rights reserved by the original copyright owners. Excerpts are provided for display purposes only and may not be reproduced, reprinted or distributed without the written permission of the publisher.
