- Covert Action is the second book in an action-packed series that began with The Mercenary Option and features a fictional band of elite mercenaries formed after the events of September 11.- Dick Couch's nonfiction book, The Warrior Elite (Crown, 11/01), was hailed as one of the four best military nonfiction titles of 2002 by The Washington Post.- Couch is an ex-Navy SEAL and CIA maritime operations case officer whose experience brings authenticity to his writing.- Couch's previous novels have received stellar reviews, and he has appeared on MSNBC with Brian Williams and Fox News with Bill O'Reilly to discuss military affairs.

Dick Couch, a 1967 graduate of the U.S. Naval Academy, served aboard ship and with the Navy UDT and SEAL teams. While a platoon commander with SEAL Team One in 1970, he led one of the only successful POW rescue operations of the Vietnam War. On release from active duty in 1972, he served with the Central Intelligence Agency as a case officer, retiring from the Naval Reserve in 1997 as the senior reserve SEAL officer with the rank of captain. He is the author of five previous novels-SEAL Team One, Pressure Point, Silent Descent, Rising Wind, and The Mercenary Option-and the nonfiction works The Warrior Elite and The Finishing School. He lives with his wife, Julia, in Ketchum, Idaho.

Chapter 1: AKR Garrett Walker sat at a small table, enjoying the sun on his back and the gentle tug of trade winds that carried the sweet smell of oleander and frangipani. The Ballyhoo Restaurant was not the kind of watering hole he would normally choose; he preferred a workingman's bar, but right now, dressed as he was, he would have been very much out of place. At the Ballyhoo there was always a steady flow of tourists coming and going, and since he might have to be here for some time, it was an enjoyable spot to wait. The lunch crowd had thinned out a bit, only to be replaced by those who came to drink and socialize. His table had a clear view of the Fort and Banks Street intersection and the famous Circus Clock Monument, which dated back to the French occupation of Basseterre. There was enough activity below to hold his attention while he waited."Another, sir?" the waitress asked pleasantly.Garrett glanced at his watch. "Why not?" He smiled. "And could you also bring me another mineral water?" A few minutes later she returned with a bottle of Perrier and a tumbler charged with Cane Spirits Rothschild and Tang. She gave him her best smile and retreated from the table.Garrett grinned to himself, knowing that she had marked him as a "player," a wealthy visitor who might be a big tipper. He eyed the drink with some apprehension. CSR, a sweet liquor made locally from sugar cane, mixed with Tang, a grapefruit soda, was the national drink of St. Kitts. He had already choked down one of the sweet concoctions for appearance's sake, but he was not so sure that he could do another. He would have much preferred a scotch. The whole charade made him uneasy, and it was not just the sweet drink. His normally straightforward military haircut was moussed and pulled back flat across the top of his head. He was dressed in a red T-shirt, a white linen sport coat with pleated matching slacks, and woven leather loafers -- no socks. Everything felt a size too big. The heavy gold necklace and diamond pinkie were gaudy and made him feel awkward, as did the gold Rolex strapped to his wrist. His rich deep tan and wraparound sunglasses completed the look. AKR had suggested a diamond stud in one ear, but he had drawn the line with a definitive "not on your life." Garrett had his limits about masquerading in public in what he had come to call his gigolo cover.They had arrived two days ago and tied the boat up in the Basseterre Marina. The fifty-five-foot Viking motor yacht had turned a few heads as they entered the harbor, but boats that size and bigger were not unusual. It was ostentatious, but all part of the plan. They had chartered the boat out of San Juan and made the run down through the Virgin Islands and the northern portion of the Leeward Island group, thoroughly enjoying themselves. Anchoring at night, Garrett free-dived for langouste and occasionally shot a small grouper. The Viking, named Ragtime, had an amply stocked bar. It had been a leisurely four-day run. If all went well, they would be finished in another day or so and be back on their way.Garrett found himself thinking of Judy and how much she would have enjoyed the trip, especially the journey through the islands. It would have been great to have her along, but he would have wanted her well on her way before they got to the business end of their venture. Her presence would have been natural enough, even enhancing their cover, but knowing Judy Burks, she would have been hard to get rid of once the action started. AKR had been the one to propose this idea, and it was not a bad one, but Garrett had ruled it out. His employer, Guardian Systems International, would not have objected, but Garrett's time in the military had conditioned him differently. Men, at least men in his line of work, went overseas to do their job, and their women waited for their return. He had always felt that was as it should be, even though he seldom