Chapters (96)
- Cover
- Berkley titles by David Ricciardi
- Dedication
- Epigraph
- CHARACTER LIST
- PROLOGUE
- ONE
- TWO
- THREE
- FOUR
- FIVE
- SIX
- SEVEN
- EIGHT
- NINE
- TEN
- ELEVEN
- TWELVE
- THIRTEEN
- FOURTEEN
- FIFTEEN
- SIXTEEN
- SEVENTEEN
- EIGHTEEN
- NINETEEN
- TWENTY
- TWENTY-ONE
- TWENTY-TWO
- TWENTY-THREE
- TWENTY-FOUR
- TWENTY-FIVE
- TWENTY-SIX
- TWENTY-SEVEN
- TWENTY-EIGHT
- TWENTY-NINE
- THIRTY
- THIRTY-ONE
- THIRTY-TWO
- THIRTY-THREE
- THIRTY-FOUR
- THIRTY-FIVE
- THIRTY-SIX
- THIRTY-SEVEN
- THIRTY-EIGHT
- THIRTY-NINE
- FORTY
- FORTY-ONE
- FORTY-TWO
- FORTY-THREE
- FORTY-FOUR
- FORTY-FIVE
- FORTY-SIX
- FORTY-SEVEN
- FORTY-EIGHT
- FORTY-NINE
- FIFTY
- FIFTY-ONE
- FIFTY-TWO
- FIFTY-THREE
- FIFTY-FOUR
- FIFTY-FIVE
- FIFTY-SIX
- FIFTY-SEVEN
- FIFTY-EIGHT
- FIFTY-NINE
- SIXTY
- SIXTY-ONE
- SIXTY-TWO
- SIXTY-THREE
- SIXTY-FOUR
- SIXTY-FIVE
- SIXTY-SIX
- SIXTY-SEVEN
- SIXTY-EIGHT
- SIXTY-NINE
- SEVENTY
- SEVENTY-ONE
- SEVENTY-TWO
- SEVENTY-THREE
- SEVENTY-FOUR
- SEVENTY-FIVE
- SEVENTY-SIX
- SEVENTY-SEVEN
- SEVENTY-EIGHT
- SEVENTY-NINE
- EIGHTY
- EIGHTY-ONE
- EIGHTY-TWO
- EIGHTY-THREE
- EIGHTY-FOUR
- EIGHTY-FIVE
- EIGHTY-SIX
- EIGHTY-SEVEN
- Children of Fallen Patriots Foundation
- ABOUT THE AUTHOR
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Jake climbed into the wreckage, shielding his face from the heat, until he reached Athena in the driver’s seat. He lifted her out and laid her gently on the grass.
He checked her neck for a pulse. It was fast but weak. She’d already lost a lot of blood and her heart was pumping furiously to circulate what was left.
“Athena!”
Her eyes flickered.
“Stay with me,” Jake said. She was tiptoeing along a precipice. If he left her now, she might tumble away from him forever.
Her breathing was fast and shallow.
“Stay here, Athena!”
Her breathing stopped.
Jake started CPR, pressing down hard and fast, but the trauma was extensive.
Giánnis walked out of the house a minute later and stared at the burning wreck.
Jake wiped the blood from his hands and went to him.
“I’m sorry,” Jake said as a distant siren began to wail. “This was meant for me.”
The old man stared at the wreckage, hypnotized by the flames.
He still didn’t understand.
Jake took him by the hands and looked him in the eyes.
“Athena is dead.”
SIXTY-EIGHT
THE SIRENS GREW louder.
Jake’s recent appearance in Athena’s life, his light cover story, and the private jet with the impenetrable ownership structure would immediately make him a prime suspect. The Hellenic police would detain him while they conducted their investigation and, with Jake out of the picture, there would be no one to stop Yaxaas.
A million people might die.
Jake sanitized the house, removing all traces of his presence. He grabbed his duffel bag, wiped away his fingerprints, and deleted his calls and contact information from Athena’s phone. He drove the speed limit as he left the estate and passed an ambulance and two police cars headed in the opposite direction. He glanced down at his clothes. His shirt was singed by fire and stained with Athena’s blood. He was innocent, but he was acting guilty and he looked guilty—and he had to expect the police to treat him as such if he was caught. He stopped at a gas station once he was clear of Vouliagmeni, tore the shirt off, and held it to his face. It was his last connection to Athena, but it was also a ticket to jail if the police found it. He balled it up and buried it in the trash.
—
THE AGENCY PILOTS were used to abrupt changes of schedule.
Jake had called them from the road, and the Gulfstream was idling on the tarmac by the time he arrived. They took off under visual flight rules, a rarity for a high-performance corporate jet, especially at night, but it allowed them an immediate departure from Greek soil. Once they were airborne, they filed a flight plan to Djibouti. They refiled for Mogadishu a few hours later.