Marcus reached for the cord on his life vest and pulled it like the cord of a parachute. It inflated instantly, and Marcus shot back to the surface like a bullet. Moments later, he broke through the waves, coughing and sputtering, then pulled a flare from his combat vest and fired it into the sky.
Soon the last of the helos moved into position over him. Both Callaghan and Warner—now wearing scuba gear—dove into the sea. The crew lowered a rescue basket to them. Marcus insisted he could climb into the basket on his own but quickly discovered this wasn’t true. His body was far more broken and battered than he’d realized. He needed all the help the SEALs gave him.
Two minutes later, they were all safely on board the Seahawk and clearing the strike zone. Marcus was wrapped in blankets and given a tank of oxygen and propped against the window that would give him the best view. Callaghan handed him a headset so he could listen to the voices of the F-22 pilots on their final approach. And soon enough, it happened. The pilots launched their Hellfire missiles and each one hit its target. The enormous explosions briefly turned night into day as the tanker disintegrated and slipped beneath the waves.
A medic began treating him, but Marcus paid him little mind. His eyes were heavy. He knew he would be asleep as soon as the adrenaline from the battle with al-Zanjani faded from his bloodstream. But before he drifted away, he found himself wondering about Pete Hwang in Okinawa, about Oleg in Tokyo, about Claire Vinetti and Jenny Morris in Moscow, about Annie Stewart, probably facing charges in D.C. Were they safe? Were they okay? What about his sisters and his mom? What about Elena’s parents and sisters back in Colorado and the Emersons in Washington? He missed them all.
Marcus had no idea what his future held. Nor did he care. Not here. Not now. There would be time enough to think about his new position in the CIA and how long he would really stay there. For now, all he cared about was getting home and getting well and reconnecting with the family and friends he had neglected for far too long.
Elena and Lars were gone and there was nothing he could do about it. It saddened him immensely but no longer angered or depressed him. He had finally made his peace. He knew he would see them again one day, and he looked forward to that reunion more than anything else.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
When you write your first novel, you just hope your parents can find it at a bookstore within a hundred miles of their house. Not that it becomes a New York Times bestseller. Or garners invitations to speak on radio and television programs. Or opens doors to travel and speak and to write even more books, some of which will be read by kings and presidents and spy chiefs.
Yet miracles can happen. This is now my fourteenth novel, and I must admit, I’m still stunned by the miracle that I get to do this not just for a living but for fun.
Time and space do not permit me to thank everyone who makes this possible. But there are some I want to—and must—publicly thank.
Scott Miller has been my literary agent and my friend since my first novel, The Last Jihad, and he and the Trident Media Group remain the best in the business.
The Tyndale House publishing team is stellar—Mark Taylor, Jeff Johnson, Ron Beers, Karen Watson, Jeremy Taylor, Jan Stob, Dean Renninger, Caleb Sjogren, Erin Smith, Danika King, the entire sales force, and all the other remarkable professionals who make Tyndale an industry leader.
Our award-winning PR team—Larry Ross, Kristin Cole, Steve Yount, and Kerri Ridenour and their colleagues—is first-rate and a joy to work with.
June “Bubbe” Meyers and Nancy Pierce work with me at November Communications, Inc. They handle everything from my schedules to flights to finances and so much more with a heart of love and attention to detail.
I’m especially grateful for my parents, Leonard and Mary Jo Rosenberg, and to all my extended family and Lynn’s, for their love, wise counsel, and prayers.
Thank you to our four wonderful sons: Caleb, Jacob, Jonah, and Noah—and now to Caleb’s lovely wife, Rachel. I cannot imagine life without you five, and I treasure every moment with each of you.
There is no one, however, who compares to my precious Lynn. She has not only been my amazing and wonderful wife for twenty-eight years, she has also been my best friend in the world. I’m so grateful for her love and encouragement and counsel and companionship. I certainly don’t deserve her, and I cannot imagine life without her. Her faith inspires me. Her love comforts me. Her creativity knows no bounds. I want to be just like her when I grow up.
For now, though, he had to start living again.
FROM NEW YORK TIMES BESTSELLING AUTHOR
JOEL C. ROSENBERG
COMES ANOTHER HEART-POUNDING SERIES OF INTERNATIONAL THRILLERS
THE WORLD IS ON THE BRINK OF DISASTER AND THE CLOCK IS TICKING.
JOELROSENBERG.COM
FROM NEW YORK TIMES BESTSELLING AUTHOR
JOEL C. ROSENBERG
“IF THERE WERE A FORBES 400 LIST OF GREAT CURRENT NOVELISTS, JOEL ROSENBERG WOULD BE AMONG THE TOP TEN. HIS NOVELS ARE UN-PUT-DOWNABLE.”
STEVE FORBES, EDITOR IN CHIEF, FORBES MAGAZINE
FICTION
MARCUS RYKER NOVELS
THE KREMLIN CONSPIRACY
THE PERSIAN GAMBLE
THE J. B. COLLINS COLLECTION
THE THIRD TARGET
THE FIRST HOSTAGE
WITHOUT WARNING
THE TWELFTH IMAM COLLECTION
THE TWELFTH IMAM
THE TEHRAN INITIATIVE
DAMASCUS COUNTDOWN
THE LAST JIHAD COLLECTION
THE LAST JIHAD
THE LAST DAYS
THE EZEKIEL OPTION
THE COPPER SCROLL
DEAD HEAT
THE AUSCHWITZ ESCAPE
NONFICTION
ISRAEL AT WAR
IMPLOSION
THE INVESTED LIFE
INSIDE THE REVOLUTION
EPICENTER
FROM NEW YORK TIMES BESTSELLING AUTHOR
JOEL C. ROSENBERG
FOLLOW FOREIGN CORRESPONDENT J. B. COLLINS AS HE RISKS IT ALL IN SEARCH OF THE TRUTH AND A GOOD STORY.
BUT WHAT IF IT’S TOO LATE?
The Persian Gamble Page 36
