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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
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  14. 11
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  40. 37
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  82. 79
  83. What’s next onyour reading list?

“I only have one complaint about this place. I can’t find a good cup of chamomile tea.”

There was a long silence on the other end. Finally, “That’s disappointing to hear. But keep looking. I have no doubt that you’ll find it, and soon. Tell Jack I said hello and send my greetings to Dr. Fairchild.”

“Will do.”

“Stay in touch.”

Paul rang off. He could hear the disappointment in the senator’s voice.

There had to be a work-around. He hoped he had the time to figure out what it was, but he doubted he had the skill.

Still, he had to try.

And if he got caught? Well, if the prison was as clean and well run as the rest of the city, maybe it wouldn’t be so bad.

—

Fuck, fuck, FUCK!

Rhodes paced around his library, his cell phone still clutched in his hand.

This wasn’t good. He was sure Paul would’ve already loaded the USB drive. He knew Dalfan’s security was tight, but Paul was smarter than any IT security department. Or at least he thought so.

And if smart wasn’t enough, luck was even better. Paul has that in spades, the fat bastard.

Rhodes stepped to the library door to make sure the maid didn’t have her ear pressed against it, even though she wasn’t due in for another hour. His young wife was off to her hot yoga class, which meant Rhodes had the place all to himself.

Rhodes retrieved his burner phone, SIM card, and battery pack and hit the speed-dial button. His father taught him a long time ago the only way to confront trouble was straight on. Unfortunately, the man on the other end was a brick wall and Rhodes was running into it headfirst.

“What’s the status?” the voice demanded.

“Still working on it.”

“Then why have you called?”

“To keep you informed.”

“Do I need to remind you that time is running out?”

“There are still four days left. I’m confident he’ll figure out a way to make this happen.”

“You know what happens if he doesn’t.”

Rhodes swallowed hard. He’d bet heavily on this operation by borrowing heavily, including a second mortgage on the McMansion he was standing in. Crashing Dalfan’s stock price was a guaranteed way for him to cash in with leveraged calls—like betting against a boxer you knew was going to throw the fight. “I’ll lose a great deal of money.”

“That’s the least of your worries.” The voice rang off.

Rhodes stared at the phone in his hand, trembling with rage.

“Or yours, asshole.”

Rhodes paced the room.

How in the hell did I get myself into this mess?

22

WASHINGTON, D.C.

TWO WEEKS EARLIER