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Back Point of Contact Save as PDF
Chapters (83)
  1. Cover
  2. ALSO BY TOM CLANCY
  3. PRINCIPAL CHARACTERS
  4. 1
  5. 2
  6. 3
  7. 4
  8. 5
  9. 6
  10. 7
  11. 8
  12. 9
  13. 10
  14. 11
  15. 12
  16. 13
  17. 14
  18. 15
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  20. 17
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  27. 24
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  29. 26
  30. 27
  31. 28
  32. 29
  33. 30
  34. 31
  35. 32
  36. 33
  37. 34
  38. 35
  39. 36
  40. 37
  41. 38
  42. 39
  43. 40
  44. 41
  45. 42
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  48. 45
  49. 46
  50. 47
  51. 48
  52. 49
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  55. 52
  56. 53
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  75. 72
  76. 73
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  78. 75
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  80. 77
  81. 78
  82. 79
  83. What’s next onyour reading list?

Jack killed the lights and slammed on the brakes. The Range Rover came to a splashing halt thirty yards from the Dalfan building, lit up like a Christmas tree in the middle of the blacked-out neighborhood. The Toyota van was parked on the sidewalk near the door.

“Emergency generator,” Lian explained. “We need to keep the power on or else the security locks all fail. We also need the mainframe to keep running—a system crash would be fatal.”

“Mainframe’s on the fourth floor, right?”

“The control station is on the fourth, directly across from the emergency stairwell. It’s the only place now where you can install a USB drive.”

“That’s where they’ll have Paul.”

Jack pointed through the flooded windshield. Between the momentary blink of wiper-blade swipes they could make out two men in the lobby.

“I can use my security pass to enter through an emergency exit in the back,” Lian said. “I’ll make my way—”

“No time.”

Jack slammed the throttle into the floorboard. The Range Rover rocketed forward, leaping the curb. Jack used the parked Toyota van to cover his approach. Lian slapped the airbag switch, killing the safety devices.

The silver SUV came out of the night like a steel shadow. The two men in the lobby saw it at the last second and scattered as the front end smashed through the front glass doors.

Jack popped the brights back on and jerked the wheel hard left, tracking with one of the men running for cover. The left bumper caught him at the hip and slammed him against a concrete pillar, crushing his pelvis. He screamed.

Lian was out the door and firing her weapon, putting four rounds in the other man’s chest as he raised his weapon to fire. He dropped like a rag doll, his pistol clattering to the floor. She turned in time to see Jack put a round in the head of the man crushed against the pillar, somehow pointing his weapon at Jack just before he ate one in the face.

There was no way to know if the men upstairs heard the racket downstairs, and at this point it didn’t matter. They bolted up the emergency stairs two at a time, boots clanging on the metal stairs. Jack’s heart raced with adrenaline and a death-metal soundtrack crashed in his throbbing skull. They reached the fourth-floor landing and stopped at the emergency door. Jack pressed his ear against it.

Screaming.

Paul.

No way to know the tactical situation. Could be twenty guys. Could be two. Jack didn’t care. His friend was in trouble.

Jack hand-signaled a plan—clear the room of tangos, assault the control room—then counted off with the nod of his head.

Three.

Two.

One.

Go!

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