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Assassin's Game

Ward Larsen
Chapters (66)
  1. Title Page
  2. Copyright Notice
  3. Dedication
  4. Acknowledgments
  5. Prologue
  6. Chapter 1
  7. Chapter 2
  8. Chapter 3
  9. Chapter 4
  10. Chapter 5
  11. Chapter 6
  12. Chapter 7
  13. Chapter 8
  14. Chapter 9
  15. Chapter 10
  16. Chapter 11
  17. Chapter 12
  18. Chapter 13
  19. Chapter 14
  20. Chapter 15
  21. Chapter 16
  22. Chapter 17
  23. Chapter 18
  24. Chapter 19
  25. Chapter 20
  26. Chapter 21
  27. Chapter 22
  28. Chapter 23
  29. Chapter 24
  30. Chapter 25
  31. Chapter 26
  32. Chapter 27
  33. Chapter 28
  34. Chapter 29
  35. Chapter 30
  36. Chapter 31
  37. Chapter 32
  38. Chapter 33
  39. Chapter 34
  40. Chapter 35
  41. Chapter 36
  42. Chapter 37
  43. Chapter 38
  44. Chapter 39
  45. Chapter 40
  46. Chapter 41
  47. Chapter 42
  48. Chapter 43
  49. Chapter 44
  50. Chapter 45
  51. Chapter 46
  52. Chapter 47
  53. Chapter 48
  54. Chapter 49
  55. Chapter 50
  56. Chapter 51
  57. Chapter 52
  58. Chapter 53
  59. Chapter 54
  60. Chapter 55
  61. Chapter 56
  62. Chapter 57
  63. Chapter 58
  64. Chapter 59
  65. Also by Ward Larsen
  66. About the Author
cover

Title Page

image

Copyright Notice

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Dedication

For Bob and Pat Gussin

Acknowledgments

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

My most sincere thanks to those who helped bring this story to life. To my editor, Bob Gleason, for his support and encouragement. To Kelly Quinn and the entire staff at Tor/Forge—there are none better. To those who helped me early on, Deb Stowell and Kevin Kremer, your contributions were essential. I would be hard-pressed to find a more hardworking and knowledgeable agent than Susan Gleason.

Finally, thanks to my family for their patience and support over the years.

Prologue

PROLOGUE

One could only expect so much from a stolen donkey.

Nearing the crest of an extended rise, Yaniv Stein watched the creature slowly buckle. Struggling beneath three hundred pounds of guns, ammunition, and explosives, its legs began to wobble. Then, fifty yards to go, it did what donkeys did when they reached their limit—the beast dropped to its haunches and froze, statue-like and immovable. Stein heaved on the harness, trying to coax forward momentum, but he might as well have been pulling against an oak tree. His years of training in the Israeli Special Forces had covered a great many contingencies. No one had ever thought to include this in the curriculum.

He left the donkey where it was and padded ahead, his boots scuffing over sand and loose stones. He gave a hand signal and the others appeared out of the darkness, three vibrant silhouettes clear under a half-moon that split the night sky. The obstinate donkey was only the latest in a series of misfortunes to befall the mission. To begin, their military flight from Israel to Turkmenistan had suffered a ten-hour delay, cursed by not one but two airplanes with mechanical issues. Arriving in Ashgabat behind schedule, their promised transportation to the Iranian border, a pair of jeeps obtained by an advance party, had never materialized, and they’d been forced to negotiate the purchase of a decrepit van from an Armenian used car salesman—yet another shortcoming in the training syllabus.