Black List (51 page)
F
ORTY-EIGHT
H
OURS
L
ATER
The Gulfstream G550 business jet registered to Advance Technology Solutions reached its cruising altitude and leveled off over the ocean.
Each of the aircraft’s fifteen passengers had received a phone call from Martin Vignon, a man they had all known for many years and trusted. Citing security concerns, he had kept the conversations brief.
With Reed Carlton listening in on each call, Vignon relayed two pieces of information. The first was that Middleton had been able to short-circuit the attack. As they’d all heard that it was imminent, yet it failed to materialize, Vignon’s claim made sense. It also made the second piece of information even more believable.
According to Vignon, Middleton had established a contingency that required the board’s immediate attention. Because the Virginia estate was an active crime scene and the ATS corporate headquarters were crawling with investigators, Vignon had arranged transportation for the board to the company’s Grand Cayman property.
After the flight attendant had gone through and conducted the second
cocktail service, the pilot summoned her to the cockpit. Stepping inside, Gretchen Casey closed and locked the door behind her.
As the CIA pilot began reducing the oxygen in the main cabin, Scot Harvath, uniformed to look like the copilot, handed Casey her equipment. One by one, they took turns getting suited up in the tight cockpit. When the pilot flashed them the signal, they donned their helmets and began the flow of oxygen into their face masks. Ten minutes later, they opened the cockpit door.
It was obvious from where they stood that hypoxia had kicked in. Quickly, Harvath and Casey moved through, certifying that each of the ATS board members was in fact dead.
Once complete, Harvath returned to the cockpit and flashed the pilot the thumbs-up. As the CIA operative finished tweaking the autopilot settings, Harvath and Casey gave each other’s HAHO equipment a final inspection, then did the same for the pilot once he stepped into the main cabin and joined them.
Harvath looked at his wrist-top computer and gave the two-minute sign to the others. He then stepped forward and made ready to open the main cabin door.
At the one-minute mark, he signaled his team and opened the forward cabin door.
As alarms blared from the cockpit and the roar of the slipstream filled their ears, Harvath counted down the remaining seconds and then gave the team the signal to jump. The CIA pilot leapt first, followed by Casey and then, after one last look back into the cabin, Harvath.
The jet continued its flight out over the ocean toward its rendezvous with a deep, watery grave. Papers would carry the story about how the ATS board of directors, already reeling from the tragic loss of their managing director, had also discovered that he had embezzled significant funds from the company. They had been on their way to an emergency meeting with their bankers in Grand Cayman when their plane crashed. None of the bodies would ever be recovered.
Harvath navigated Casey and the CIA pilot to the drop zone out over the open ocean where a U.S. Navy vessel was waiting.
A flotilla of rubber Zodiacs rushed out to meet them, fish them out of the water, and return them to the ship.
From there, a Sikorsky SH-60F Seahawk helicopter ferried the team to Naval Air Station Key West, where the CIA pilot caught a flight back to D.C. Harvath and Casey, though, had other plans.
Cash, a change of clothes, and a vehicle from the motor pool were waiting for them when they arrived. Climbing in their car, they headed north on US-1 toward Little Torch Key. With the windows rolled down, the car was filled with the scent of the ocean. Though they were both quietly concerned about being late, they smiled when a Jimmy Buffett song came on the radio. Somehow, it felt like Riley Turner was sending them a message.
Undergoing the same training the Delta Force men did, the women of the Athena Project attended the U.S. Army’s Special Forces Combat Diver Qualification Course in Key West. But unlike for the guys in Delta and SF, who enjoyed spending their R&R in a handful of bars in Key West, Little Torch Key had become the destination of the Athena women when they had downtime.
It was Riley Turner who had discovered the Little Palm Island Resort and Spa on Little Torch Key, and she had dubbed it her favorite destination in the entire world. It seemed a fitting place for Harvath and Casey to say good-bye.
They checked in and were shown to their waterfront bungalows with a few minutes to spare. Poking her head into Harvath’s, Casey asked, “What do you think? Margaritas?”
Harvath shook his head, walked over to his coffee table, and grabbed the ice bucket, bottle of champagne, and two glasses he had ordered in advance. “We need to say good-bye in style.”
Casey smiled. He still had a little bit to learn in the leadership department vis-à-vis second-guessing the people under him, but he did think of everything. That had pissed her off about him more than once. She also knew that she had unfairly held him responsible for what had happened in Paris. She had blamed him for allowing Riley to die, even though she knew he would go back and trade places with her in a second. She was ready to forgive him.
As he held the ice bucket and champagne up for her to see, she smiled and said, “Perfect.”
They walked out onto the soft sand in front of the bungalows, and as the sun began its lazy drop into the ocean, Harvath released the cork and poured them each a glass.
When the sun touched the water, they toasted to Riley’s memory and each took a long, slow sip of champagne. Sitting there on the beach with the thatched bungalows behind them and the waves gently lapping at the shore, they could see why she had so loved this spot. Harvath topped off their glasses.
They stayed there, neither speaking, and drank until the bottle was empty. It was only then that Harvath looked over his shoulder and realized that the staff had quietly been lighting torches illuminating the path to the tiny restaurant. “Hungry?” he asked.
Casey, her eyes closed and her hands behind her in the sand, smiled. “Is the champagne all gone?”
“All gone.”
“Think there’s any more in our minibars?”
“Probably,” replied Harvath. “Do you want me to go check?”
Casey nodded, her eyes still closed.
“I’ll be right back then,” said Harvath as he stood and walked back barefoot to his bungalow.
Stepping inside, he left the door open as he crossed the room, opened the little refrigerator, and looked inside. He fished out a small bottle, and knew it wouldn’t be enough. They were saying good-bye to somebody special. They needed another adult-size bottle.
Walking over to the nightstand, Harvath picked up the phone to contact room service. He had lifted the handset and was about to dial when he noticed someone appear at his bungalow door. A breeze from the ocean billowed the curtains into the room. It was Casey.
“I was just about to order us another bottle,” he said.
“Forget it,” she replied.
“You don’t need another drink?”
Unbuttoning her shirt, she let it fall from her shoulders. “No. Right now, we both need something else.”
T
he concepts of “Total Surveillance” and “Total Information Awareness” have fascinated me for years.
While writing this novel, not a day went by that new material didn’t appear. Deciding what technology to include and what to leave out was particularly challenging. At times, it was like trying to drink from a fire hose.
I have assembled a list of my research material at
BradThor.com
.
I
remember living in Paris, attempting to write my first thriller, and reflecting on what a lonely profession being an author is. Little did I know then, that this was one of many white lies I would tell myself because I was afraid of failing. Only years later, after completing my very first novel, would I realize how wrong I was. Writing and publishing are team sports, and I am happy to be working with some of the best in the business.
First and foremost, my thanks always go to you, my
readers.
It is because of you that I am able to engage in a career I love. It is also because of you that I strive to improve my craft and get better with every book. Thank you for your support and for that most important ingredient of an author’s success—all of the wonderful word-of-mouth.
My thanks go out to the magnificent, worldwide network of
booksellers
who stock, sell, and recommend my books. Without them, you wouldn’t be holding this (in any form) in your hands right now.
My dear friend
Barrett Moore
continues to be an amazing fount of ideas, inspiration, and knowledge. His help on this novel, its concept, and so many of the details was invaluable. Thank you, Barrett, for everything.
Another dear friend,
James Ryan,
was there (as always) whenever I needed him during the writing process. Thank you for all you have done for me and for what you continue to do for our great nation.
Several more very good friends contributed to this novel and always picked up on the first ring. My thanks go out to
Sean Fischer; Scott F. Hill, PhD; Rodney Cox; Chuck Fretwell; Ronald Moore; Steve Tuttle; Jeff Chudwin;
and
Mitch Shore.
I very much appreciate all of your support.
I wish to also thank
Katarinna McBride
and
Clark Pollard
for the details they helped authenticate, as well as
Jerry Saperstein,
who graciously stood on deck ready to help with anything and everything computer related. Any errors in the novel are 100 percent mine.
There are several people who asked that their names not be mentioned in the acknowledgments. All I can say is thank you, and that I am deeply humbled not only by your friendship, but by your undying love and dedication to our country. Thank you for all you do for us.
Now, I get to thank my amazing publishing team. This is my first novel to be published under the new Atria/Simon & Schuster imprint of my stellar editor,
Emily Bestler.
Emily, I wish you huge success with Emily Bestler Books and look forward to publishing many, many more #1 bestsellers together.
My deepest thanks also go to my phenomenal publishers
Carolyn Reidy, Louise Burke
, and
Judith Curr.
Anyone who knows publishing knows how blessed I am to work with Carolyn, Louise, and Judith. Here’s to many more years of success.
Great buzz helps build a great book and nobody builds greater buzz than my extraordinary publicist,
David Brown.
“Outstanding” doesn’t even come close to describing him, nor does
thank you
come close to expressing how much I appreciate him.
I also want to thank the superlative
Atria/Pocket sales staff,
the
audio division
, and the
art and production departments.
They do amazing work and I am very grateful for everything.
While on the subject of amazing work, I additionally want to thank the superb
Michael Selleck, Gary Urda, Kate Cetrulo, Caroline Porter, Sarah Branham, Irene Lipsky, Ariele Fredman,
and
Lisa Keim.
I hope each of them knows how fortunate I feel to be working with them.
The day I met my sensational literary agent
Heide Lange,
of Sanford J. Greenburger Associates, Inc., was one of the best days of my life. Every
day since then has only gotten better and for that I owe Heide a huge thank you. I hope you know how much you mean to me and how much I appreciate you.
In addition to Heide, I also want to thank the rest of the incredibly talented team at SJGA, particularly the fabulous
Rachael Dillon Fried
and
Jennifer Linnan.
Out on the West Coast, the world’s best entertainment attorney,
Scott Schwimer
never ceases to amaze me with his business acumen, but also with the depth of his friendship. Thank you, Scottie.