Dead Code

By Brian Leslie

In the murky world of organized crime, drug cartels, and terrorist organizations, a covert US government organization operates in the shadows. Known only as "Operation Deep Cross," their mission is to eliminate high-valued assets that operate with impunity inside the United States. They generate a "Dead Code" - an encrypted message that is sent to "dark contract assassins" who carry out the hits. One such assassin, known only as "Red Snake," is their top contractor.

When Operation Deep Cross receives intelligence that the head of a terrorist organization, Al-Nusra Front, is planning to target infrastructure somewhere in the United States, Red Snake is sent a Dead Code to carry out the hit. Working under the name Dustin Salazar, Red Snake starts to leverage his extensive information network in the Middle East to track down the head of Al-Nusra Front and execute him. Once Red Snake successfully completes the hit, he sends a completed code back to "Deep Cross."

However, Red Snake's work is far from over. Operation Deep Cross issues him a second Dead Code - to take out one of their own contractors, who has been compromised and goes by the code name "Black Rabbit." The problem is that no one knows Black Rabbit's real name or where he resides. Red Snake must find out who Black Rabbit is and where he lives before time runs out.

As Red Snake delves deeper into his investigation, he discovers that Black Rabbit has been hired to kill him. The two assassins engage in a deadly game of cat and mouse as they try to track each other down. With many twists and turns along the way, they eventually come face-to-face. In a thrilling climax, Red Snake emerges victorious and kills Black Rabbit.

Throughout this action-packed thriller, readers will be on edge as they follow Red Snake's journey through the dangerous world of covert operations. From his intricate knowledge of the Middle East to his razor-sharp instincts, Red Snake is a force to be reckoned with. The story is full of suspenseful moments, unexpected twists, and plenty of heart-pumping action.

• Language: English
• Publisher: True American Publishing
• Release date: Mar 19, 2024
• ISBN: 9798224659081

Brian Leslie

Brian Leslie is a Nationally Recognized Coercive Interrogation Expert and Best Selling Author. He is regularly retained by Federal, State, and Military Courts on high-profile murder cases throughout the United States.

Book preview

CHAPTER 1

The door to the dimly lit Middle Eastern safehouse creaked open, revealing a figure silhouetted against the dusky sky. Red Snake, in the guise of Dustin Salazar, stepped inside, his senses heightened as he scanned the smoke-filled room for any potential threats. The air was heavy with the scent of tobacco and sweat, and the faint hum of whispered conversations filled the space.

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Ahlan wa sahlan, greeted an older man behind the counter, his face lined from years of hardship. Welcome, my friend.

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Shukran, Red Snake replied, nodding his appreciation as he surveyed the occupants of the safehouse. He noted their body language and interactions, searching for any clues that could lead him to the head of the Al-Nusra Front.

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In one corner, a group of men huddled around a low table, their faces obscured by shadows. Red Snake's eyes lingered on them, observing the way they leaned in close, whispering conspiratorially. Their guarded posture and furtive glances suggested they were concealing something.

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Can I get you anything? the old man asked, interrupting Red Snake's thoughts. His voice was gentle, but there was a hint of weariness in his eyes.

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Tea, please, Red Snake answered, never breaking eye contact with the group in the corner. As he awaited his drink, he continued to study the room, discreetly cataloguing every person present.

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Here you are, the old man said, placing a steaming cup of tea before Red Snake. The fragrant aroma of mint and spices wafted through the air, momentarily transporting him back to memories of another time, another place. But he couldn't afford to dwell on the past; his mission demanded his full attention.

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Thank you, Red Snake murmured, sipping the tea as he resumed his analysis of the room. He noticed a man at the bar, nursing a glass of arak and glancing around nervously. The tension in his shoulders and the darting movements of his eyes suggested he was expecting trouble. Could he be connected to the Al-Nusra Front?

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Your tea is good, Red Snake said to the old man, engaging him in conversation while continuing his observations. You must have been making it for a long time.

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Indeed, the old man chuckled softly. I have seen much change in my years, but some things remain constant.

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Like the need for a safe haven, Red Snake replied, subtly probing for information. The old man's eyes flickered with understanding, and he nodded slowly.

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Everyone needs a place where they can rest their weary head, he agreed. But not everyone finds it.

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As the conversation continued, Red Snake kept his focus on deciphering the subtle cues that might reveal the location of the head of the Al-Nusra Front. With each passing moment, the pieces of the puzzle seemed to fall into place, bringing him one step closer to fulfilling his mission. And as he delved deeper into the murky world of the safehouse, the shadows within seemed to whisper secrets – if only he could listen closely enough.

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The dim glow of the safehouse's computer screen cast eerie shadows across Red Snake's face as he slid into the chair, his fingers dancing effortlessly over the worn keyboard. He could feel the weight of the room behind him, its occupants going about their business, unaware of the silent intruder in their midst.

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Location of the head... just a matter of time, he muttered under his breath, his voice barely audible above the hum of the ancient machine before him.

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His eyes flicked back and forth as lines of code, encrypted files, and hidden messages filled the screen. With each keystroke, Red Snake delved deeper into the labyrinthine network of the Al-Nusra Front, searching for any clue that would lead him to the man he sought.

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Ah, what do we have here? he murmured as a series of coded messages caught his eye.

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He leaned in closer to examine the text, his brow furrowing with concentration as he began to decipher the intricate web of words and symbols. Though the language was complex and unfamiliar, Red Snake's analytical mind quickly began to unravel the secrets contained within the messages.

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Coordinates? Or something more? He thought to himself as his fingers flew across the keys, piecing together fragments of information like an expertly crafted puzzle. I'm close... I can feel it.

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As the minutes ticked by, Red Snake's heart rate quickened, the anticipation building within him like a coiled spring waiting to be released. He knew he was on the brink of uncovering the vital piece of intelligence that would bring him one step closer to his target – the location of the head of the Al-Nusra Front.

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Got you, he whispered triumphantly as the final piece of the puzzle clicked into place. The coded messages revealed a pattern, a series of seemingly unrelated locations that, when connected, hinted at the whereabouts of the elusive leader.

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Time to get out of here, Red Snake thought as his eyes darted around the room, searching for any signs that he had been discovered.

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Satisfied that his intrusion had gone unnoticed, he swiftly logged off the computer and rose from the chair, melting back into the shadows. As he made his way through the safehouse, his mind raced with the implications of his discovery and the next steps he would need to take to fulfill his mission.

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Better inform HQ about this new lead, he pondered, his focus unwavering. The hunt continues, and I'm closer than ever.

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The screen flickered as Red Snake's gloved fingers flew across the keyboard, sweat beading on his brow despite the cool air in the dimly lit room. His mind was a whirlwind of calculations and connections, each coded message falling into place like an intricate puzzle. He could feel the weight of the mission bearing down on him, the stakes higher than ever before.

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Let's see if I've got this right, he muttered under his breath, working through each line of code with razor-sharp focus. As the realization hit him, his pulse quickened. Bingo.

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The decrypted messages spelled out a complex network of communication channels that the head of the Al-Nusra Front favored – satellite phones, encrypted chat rooms, even old-fashioned dead drops for sensitive material. Red Snake knew instantly that these would be crucial to infiltrating the inner circle of the terrorist organization.

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Vulnerabilities... there must be vulnerabilities I can exploit, he thought, already sifting through possibilities. His instincts told him that the key to bringing down the elusive leader might lie within these very lines of communication.

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Ah! he exclaimed, tapping the screen emphatically. They're using an outdated encryption protocol for their online chats. This could be the weak point I need.

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Red Snake quickly jotted down notes on a small pad, committing the information to memory. Every detail was vital as he pieced together the labyrinthine communications network of the Al-Nusra Front, inching ever closer to his target.

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Every move they make, every word they say... it'll all come back to me, he mused, feeling a surge of adrenaline at the thought of the impending showdown. The chase was far from over, but Red Snake now had the upper hand.

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Time to put this intel to good use, he whispered, closing the laptop with a quiet snap. His eyes darted around the room once more, ensuring he had left no trace of his presence. The safehouse's occupants continued their conversations and activities, blissfully unaware of the storm brewing beneath the surface.

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Your days are numbered, Red Snake vowed silently as he slipped out of the room, his focus now on the manhunt that lay ahead.

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The dim glow of the safehouse's arched windows cast eerie shadows on its occupants as Red Snake, his senses sharpened by adrenaline, stoically observed them. He had to ensure their trust remained intact while he worked behind the scenes, laying the groundwork for their downfall.

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Very well, brother, a bearded man with a deep scar across his cheek said in Arabic, clapping Red Snake on the back. We will be here if you need anything.

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Thank you, Red Snake replied, maintaining his Dustin Salazar persona. He knew that every interaction had to be flawless, lest he risk unveiling his true identity.

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As the man turned away, Red Snake seized the opportunity to plant the first surveillance device. His fingers moved deftly over the tiny piece of equipment, expertly attaching it to the underside of a nearby table.

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Did you hear about the recent attack? a thin man with sunken eyes asked another in hushed tones, leaning against a wall adorned with maps and weaponry.

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Indeed, the other man replied, stroking his beard thoughtfully. A great victory for our cause.

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Red Snake listened intently as he continued his work, carefully placing microphones and concealed cameras throughout the room. With each device planted, he felt the organization's secrets slipping into his grasp.

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Who are these men? he mused, studying their faces and mannerisms. What roles do they play within the Al-Nusra Front?

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Brother Salazar, could you help me with this crate? a burly man asked, gesturing to a heavy-looking wooden box.

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Of course, Red Snake replied, using the moment to plant another bug beneath the crate's lid. As he lifted one end, he caught glimpses of the contents: ammunition and explosives – valuable intelligence for Operation Deep Cross.

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Your assistance is appreciated, the burly man said, wiping sweat from his brow. My name is Faisal, by the way.

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Good to know, Red Snake thought, mentally cataloging the information as he continued documenting the identities and roles of the individuals present.

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Brother Salazar, are you joining us for prayers? another man inquired, his voice soft and sincere.

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Of course, brother, Red Snake responded, allowing himself a brief respite from his duties to maintain his cover.

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As they prayed, his mind raced, calculating the best locations for the remaining devices. With each whispered word, he felt the net closing around the Al-Nusra Front's inner circle. Soon, every secret would be laid bare, and their days numbered.

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Perhaps there are more like Faisal, Red Snake pondered, scanning the room for other potential leads. Each one could be a valuable asset in bringing down their leader.

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Red Snake remained vigilant, focused on completing the task at hand. He knew that his mission was far from over, but with each planted device and each identified member of the Al-Nusra Front, the scales tipped ever more in his favor.

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The low murmur of voices enveloped the dimly lit room like a thick fog, each conversation weaving together to form an intricate tapestry of information. Red Snake, still disguised as Dustin Salazar, stood near the doorway, his senses heightened and ears attuned to the subtlest fluctuations in pitch.

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Brother Salazar, you seem deep in thought, Faisal observed as he approached Red Snake. What troubles you?

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Nothing, my friend, Red Snake replied, feigning concern. I am merely reflecting on our cause and the steps we must take to ensure victory.

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Indeed, these are trying times, Faisal agreed solemnly. But with determination and faith, we shall prevail.

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As their conversation continued, Red Snake's mind remained razor-focused on the task at hand – extracting vital information from the surrounding discussions. He honed in on a nearby exchange between two men who spoke in hushed tones.

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Has there been any word from the Emir? one man asked nervously.

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None yet, the other replied. But I have heard whispers that he will be making contact soon.

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Where? When? the first man pressed, desperation lacing his voice.

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Patience, brother, the second man warned. Such details are for the Emir to divulge when he deems fit.

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Of course, the first man conceded, disappointment evident in his tone.

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Emir, Red Snake mused, recognizing the term as a reference to the head of Al-Nusra Front. His pulse quickened slightly, but he maintained his composure, ever the consummate professional.

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Excuse me, Faisal, Red Snake said, extricating himself from their conversation. I need to make a phone call.

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Of course, Brother Salazar, Faisal nodded, allowing him to slip away.

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Retreating to a quiet corner of the room, Red Snake discreetly contacted his network of informants, sharing the information he had gleaned while in the safehouse. His knowledge of the Middle East and its intricate web of power dynamics proved invaluable as he sifted through potential leads.

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Rashid, Red Snake whispered into his phone, I need you to cross-reference any activity from the Emir with our existing intelligence on Al-Nusra Front's operations. Look for patterns, anything that might shed light on his plans or whereabouts.

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Understood, Rashid replied, his voice barely audible over the line. I'll get to work immediately.

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Be cautious, Red Snake warned. We cannot afford any missteps at this stage.

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Of course, Rashid assured him. You can count on me.

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As Red Snake ended the call, he knew that each piece of information he acquired brought him one step closer to his ultimate goal – the elimination of the head of Al-Nusra Front. And with every contact, every lead, and every conversation, the net tightened around his target.

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The dim light from a dusty overhead bulb cast eerie shadows on the peeling walls as Red Snake's eyes flickered across the room, his mind racing to record every detail of the safehouse. He noted that the only window in the room had bars on it—no escape there. But the heavy door at the back, partially hidden by a tattered curtain, seemed promising.

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Brother Salazar, Faisal called out to him from across the room, drawing him out of his thoughts. Come, join us for a drink.

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Of course, Red Snake replied, his voice steady despite the adrenaline coursing through his veins.

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As he crossed the room, Red Snake's mind continued to work overtime, analyzing potential escape routes and hiding spots. He could smell the musty odor of dampness seeping through the cracked concrete floor, indicating the possibility of a basement or underground tunnel beneath them. A chill ran down his spine—not from fear, but from anticipation—as he considered the implications of such a discovery.

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Here you go, Brother Salazar, Faisal said, handing him a glass filled with a dark amber liquid. To our continued success.

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Indeed, Red Snake murmured, raising the glass to his lips but not drinking, all the while scanning the room and its occupants.

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He observed the way the men talked and interacted, their body language betraying alliances and rivalries. Subtle gestures spoke volumes about how the power dynamics within Al-Nusra Front played out, giving Red Snake insight into potential weaknesses he could exploit.

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Tell me, Faisal, Red Snake said cautiously, how long have you been with the organization?

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Nearly ten years now, Faisal replied, his eyes briefly glazing over with the weight of memories. It has been a difficult journey, but our cause is just, and I am proud to play my part.

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Red Snake nodded, feigning understanding and sympathy. And of all the men here, who would you say is the most...influential?

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Ah, Faisal said, his eyes narrowing slightly as he considered the question. That is a difficult question to answer. Each man has his strengths and weaknesses, but ultimately, we all answer to the Emir.

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Of course, Red Snake agreed, his mind filing away this new piece of information.

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As the hours ticked by, Red Snake continued to engage in conversations while simultaneously committing every detail of the safehouse to memory. He noted the locations of security cameras, exits, and potential hiding spots, preparing for any unexpected encounters that could arise during his mission.

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His skin prickled with an electric charge as he realized how close he was to achieving his goal. The head of Al-Nusra Front had never been more vulnerable, and Red Snake intended to strike when the moment was right.

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Brother Salazar, are you well? Faisal asked, noticing Red Snake's intense focus.

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Of course, Red Snake replied, forcing a smile onto his face. I'm just feeling a bit tired. It has been a long day.

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Understandable, Faisal said, clapping him on the back. Rest well, my friend. Tomorrow is another day.

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Indeed it is, Red Snake thought, his eyes flicking to the back door one final time before he retreated to his assigned sleeping quarters. As he lay in the darkness, his mind raced through the patterns and weaknesses he'd uncovered within Al-Nusra Front's operations, knowing that each insight brought him closer to toppling their leader—and ensuring the safety of countless lives.

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Dawn's first light began to bleed through the cracks in the safehouse's windows, casting long shadows against the worn walls. Red Snake lay motionless on his makeshift bed, his mind whirling with the intelligence he'd gathered over the course of the night. His senses remained heightened, keenly aware of every breath and stir from the slumbering men around him.

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Time to move, he thought, carefully untangling himself from the dusty blankets that had provided a meager barrier against the cold desert night.

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Brother Salazar, Faisal murmured from his own cot, his eyes still closed in sleep. Leaving so early?

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Early bird catches the worm, Red Snake replied in a hushed tone, his lips twitching into a semblance of a smile. There's much work to be done.

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Indeed, Faisal agreed, his voice heavy with exhaustion. May Allah watch over you, brother.

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Thank you, Red Snake said, his heart pounding as he shouldered his bag and made his way toward the safehouse's exit. As he stepped out into the dim morning light, the cool air stung his cheeks, a stark contrast to the stifling heat that would envelop the city later in the day.

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He scanned the street, the bustling marketplace already coming to life with vendors setting up their stalls and early shoppers haggling for the best prices. Red Snake adjusted his keffiyeh, allowing the fabric to partially obscure his face as he moved with purpose through the throngs of people.

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Keep moving, stay focused, he reminded himself, his mind racing through the next steps he needed to take to eliminate the head of Al-Nusra Front and protect US infrastructure. He mentally reviewed the coded messages he'd deciphered, the communication channels he'd identified, and the surveillance devices he'd planted throughout the safehouse.

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Dates, fresh dates! a vendor called out, thrusting a basket of the sticky-sweet fruit in Red Snake's direction. He paused for a moment, his eyes locking onto the man's before he shook his head and continued on his path.

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Can't afford any distractions, he thought, forcing himself to remain focused on his mission despite the cacophony of sights, sounds, and smells that threatened to overwhelm him. He knew that with every step he took, he was drawing closer to his target—and the culmination of his relentless pursuit.

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As Red Snake's footsteps carried him deeper into the heart of the Middle Eastern city, he disappeared into the shadows, an indistinguishable figure among the throngs of people who filled the streets. With each passing moment, the Al-Nusra Front leader's time grew shorter, and the elusive Red Snake took one more step toward fulfilling his mission.

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A gust of wind swept through the labyrinthine streets, stirring up a cloud of dust and grit that momentarily obscured Red Snake's vision. The sun dipped below the horizon as the cityscape transformed into a mesmerizing tapestry of shadows and flickering lights.

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Too many variables, Red Snake thought, his pulse quickening as he navigated the crowded marketplace, where haggling patrons bartered for goods. He focused on the task at hand, even as the weight of his mission pressed down on him.

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Three kilos for ten, my friend! a boisterous fishmonger shouted, trying to entice Red Snake to buy his catch of the day. Red Snake glanced at the man, his eyes registering the offer, but his mind preoccupied with deciphering the Al-Nusra Front's next move.

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Got no time for this, he muttered to himself before slipping into a narrow alleyway, the pungent aroma of spices mingling with the scent of burning incense.

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Red Snake, a voice called out softly from the shadows, drawing his attention to a figure shrouded in darkness. I have news.

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Speak, Red Snake replied, his voice low and measured, betraying none of the urgency he felt.

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Al-Masri, the head of Al-Nusra Front, is planning to move tonight, the informant whispered, fear evident in his trembling hands. He will be meeting with a trusted lieutenant at an old safehouse near the port.

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Good, Red Snake said, his mind already analyzing the new information. Stay hidden and keep me updated.

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Of course, the informant nodded, vanishing back into the shadows like a wraith.

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Time is running out, Red Snake thought, feeling the pressure mounting as he calculated the best route to intercept Al-Masri. The stakes were higher than ever, and one misstep could mean failure for Operation Deep Cross.

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Every second counts, he reminded himself, his muscles tensing as he darted through the bustling city. As the chapter drew to a close, anticipation and tension hung in the air like an electric current, propelling Red Snake forward in his relentless pursuit of the Al-Nusra Front leader.

CHAPTER 2

The faint glow of a single bulb cast looming shadows on the cracked walls as Red Snake stepped cautiously into the dimly lit room. Dr. Farid Al-Aziz, his face partially concealed by the darkness, sat at a table cluttered with maps and documents that appeared to have been hastily strewn about. The air was heavy with tension and unspoken secrets.

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Ah, Red Snake, Dr. Al-Aziz said, rising from his chair to reveal his tall, well-built physique. He extended a strong hand towards the enigmatic assassin. I've been expecting you.

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Dr. Al-Aziz, Red Snake replied, his voice low and measured. They clasped hands in greeting, and he couldn't help but notice the firmness of Al-Aziz's grip. A man who knew his own strength.

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Please, have a seat. Dr. Al-Aziz gestured to a rickety wooden chair across from him, a sharp contrast to the opulent surroundings beyond the dimly lit confines of their makeshift meeting place. As Red Snake sat down, he surveyed the room with the eyes of a predator, never fully trusting anyone or anything.

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Let's not waste time, Red Snake began, leaning forward slightly. His stoic expression betrayed nothing of the thoughts racing through his mind – thoughts of strategy, contingency plans, and the hidden motivations of the man before him.

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Of course, Dr. Al-Aziz agreed, his deep, charismatic voice filling the room like the resonating notes of a cello. You're here for information, and I can provide it. He paused, his dark eyes locked onto Red Snake's unwavering gaze. But first, let me be clear: my loyalty is to you and your mission. You can trust me.

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Trust is earned, doctor, Red Snake replied coolly. In his line of work, trust was a luxury rarely afforded. He studied the man before him, looking for any signs of deceit or hidden agendas. What do you have for me today?

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New intel on the Al-Nusra Front's leader, Dr. Al-Aziz said with the air of someone divulging an invaluable secret. He sifted through the papers on the table, pulling out a dossier and sliding it towards Red Snake.

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As Red Snake's fingers brushed against the worn edges of the file, he felt the weight of the responsibility that had been thrust upon him. The lives of countless innocents hung in the balance, dependent on his ability to track down the elusive leader of a terror network.

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Time is running out, Dr. Al-Aziz warned, a somber tone creeping into his voice. We must act quickly.

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Red Snake nodded, silently resolving to do whatever was necessary to prevent the impending attack. His mind raced, already formulating plans and contingencies as his eyes scanned the contents of the dossier.

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Remember, Dr. Al-Aziz added, his hand resting on Red Snake's shoulder in a gesture of solidarity, I'm here to help. Whatever you need, I'll provide.

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Let's hope your assistance proves valuable, Red Snake replied, his tone steady yet unyielding. With a final nod, he rose from his seat and strode towards the door, leaving the dimly lit room behind.

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Only time would tell if Dr. Farid Al-Aziz could be trusted, but one thing was certain: Red Snake would not waver in his pursuit of justice.

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Red Snake felt the cold steel of the revolver pressing against his lower back, a constant reminder of the danger that lurked in every shadow. He grasped Dr. Farid Al-Aziz's outstretched hand firmly, his stoic expression betraying no hint of emotion. As he lowered himself into the chair across from the doctor, Red Snake surveyed the room, taking note of every detail.

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Let's get down to business, Dr. Al-Aziz said, leaning forward on the table. His deep, charismatic voice filled the dimly lit room, echoing off the walls like a distant thunderclap. Your target is well-protected and has connections within several terrorist organizations.

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Connections, huh? Red Snake replied, his fingers drumming rhythmically on the tabletop. Tell me more.

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From what I've gathered, he's been involved in orchestrating attacks for multiple groups, often using one organization as cover for another. He's a master manipulator, playing various factions against each other while remaining hidden in the shadows.

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Red Snake's mind raced as he processed the information, his eyes narrowing slightly as he considered the implications. *A dangerous enemy indeed,* he thought. *One who has managed to evade both justice and vengeance until now.*

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Any idea where he might be hiding? Red Snake asked, his tone measured and controlled.

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Nothing concrete, but my sources suggest he's operating somewhere near the border between Syria and Turkey, Dr. Al-Aziz replied. It's a volatile region, rife with conflict and chaos – the perfect breeding ground for someone like him.

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Then that's where I'll start, Red Snake said, determination seeping into his voice. I'll leave no stone unturned until I find this man and put an end to his twisted games.

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Remember, Red Snake, Dr. Al-Aziz cautioned, his reach is long, and his allies are many. You'll need to be careful who you trust on this mission.

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Trust? Red Snake scoffed, a