“Why?”
“Just do it.”
A long silence opened up on the line.
Reznick went inside still holding his bottle of beer in one hand, the cell in the other. He put down the bottle of beer, picked up the remote and switched on the TV, channel surfing till he came to CNN.
“And the breaking news this hour,” the male anchor in Atlanta said, “is that the second in command of Pakistan's intelligence agency, the ISI, has been blown up by a car bomb in Islamabad.”
Reznick stared transfixed at the screen.
The anchor continued, “Pakistan military sources tell us that Major General Muhammad Kashal's car may have been followed by two men on motorbikes from his heavily-guarded compound, before the remote detonation took place. Pentagon sources said that Kashal's loss was a blow in the fight against the Taliban both in and outside Pakistan.”
A picture of a smiling general in full military regalia appeared in the top right hand corner of the screen.
Reznick stared at the picture and realised what Meyerstein was saying. This was the mastermind. They had got him and someone else was getting the blame. A black flag operation if ever there was one.
The anchor continued, “And in a bizarre twist to this story, a former American military adviser was in the car with Kashal and died in the explosion. Sources say Vince Brewling had previously served as the CIA station chief in Islamabad in the 1980s, and is believed to have been good friends with Major General Kashal when they worked together to oust the Soviet Union from Afghanistan. Sources are reporting that Mr Brewling was paying a private visit to Kashal and was not on US government business.”
A picture of a whey-faced man with mottled skin, rheumy blue eyes, was shown in the top left hand corner of the screen. Brewling? So this was the man he knew only as Maddox.
Cold justice had been served.
Reznick stared at the picture on the screen before finishing the rest of his beer. He switched off the TV, and went outside.
“It's finished, Jon,” she said. “But I've got a proposition.”
“And what's that?”
“I'd like you to work with us.”
“For the FBI?”
“On a consultancy basis, so to speak. Certain situations might arise where a man of your talentsâ”
Reznick sighed. “I'll think about it.”
“How about I call you in the morning?”
Reznick stared up at the billions of stars in the inky black sky, as the roar of the ocean echoed deep down in the cove.
“I said I'll think about it,” he said.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
With deepest gratitude, I would like to thank the following people for their help and support:
Many thanks to my editor, Emlyn Rees, and everyone at Exhibit A Books, for their hard work, enthusiasm and belief in this book. Thanks also to my agent, Sam Copeland.
Special mention must go to Angela D Bell, FBI, in Washington DC who assisted my numerous questions with good grace and impeccable professionalism. Many thanks also to the FBI field office in Miami.
I was very fortunate that Larry Vickers, formerly of 1
st
Special Forces Operational Detachment â Delta, commonly referred to as Delta Force, was another who gave his time and expert technical knowledge freely.
During research, I found
Delta Force: The Army's Elite Counterterrorist Unit
(Avon Books) by Charlie Beckwith and
Inside Delta Force
(Bantam Dell) by Eric L Haney really useful books.
I would also like to thank Ash Swanson in Miami Beach for helping out with South Beach research.
Last, my family and friends for their encouragement and support. And, most of all, my wife, Susan, who was with me every step of the way, as each draft developed, offering brilliant advice, coupled with no small amount of patience.
.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
J B Turner began his writing career as a journalist. His news stories and feature articles have appeared in the
Daily Mail
,
Daily Telegraph
,
Daily Express
,
The Scotsman
and
The Herald
. He is married and has two young children.
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A is for American Heroes!
Copyright © J. B. Turner 2013
Cover photo © Dylan Kitchener/Trevillion Images; design by Argh! Oxford
All rights reserved.
Angry Robot is a registered trademark, and Exhibit A, the Exhibit A icon and
the Angry Robot icon a trademark of Angry Robot Ltd.
This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and
incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author's imagination.
Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or
localities is entirely coincidental.
Ebook: ISBN: 978 1 90922 347 9
UK Paperback: ISBN: 978 1 90922 345 5
US Trade Paperback: ISBN: 978 1 90922 346 2