The Coil
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Outstanding Praise for Gayle Lynds and Her Thrillers
The Coil
“A panoramic backdrop of exotic European locales, breakneck pacing, a tough and brainy protagonist, and vicious villains…spellbinding.”
—Chicago Sun-Times
“The Coil is a spy thriller of the highest order…will leave readers slack-jawed in amazement.”
—BookPage
“Reading The Coil is hazardous to a good night’s sleep because it’s definitely a page-turner.”
—Times Record News
“Not only is the thriller not dead, but it is alive and well and safe in the hands of outstanding authors such as Gayle Lynds.”
—January Magazine
“Where are the new Robert Ludlums and Tom Clancys coming from? Here’s one excellent candidate: the tough-minded and talented Gayle Lynds.”
—Chicago Tribune
“A rapid-paced, white-knuckle page-turner that pulls you in on page one and keeps you reading throughout the night…this one will leave you breathless!”
—Affaire de Coeur
“Moves with stunning speed and keeps the pages turning with twists and layers in both plot and family loyalties…The Coil races from beginning to end, driven by ruthless men with their own golden rule: ‘He who has the gold makes the rules.’”
—Santa Barbara News-Press
“The novel moves at a blistering pace, much in the tradition of espionage legend Robert Ludlum.”
—Publishers Weekly
“A triumph—an absolutely compelling international thriller…confirms Lynds as being right at the top of the field. If you already know Lynds’s work, then prepare yourself for what is definitely her best book yet. If you’ve never read Lynds before, then I envy you. You are in for a real treat.”
—David Morrell, author of The Protector and First Blood
“Tantalizing, plenty of suspense and action, great characters, and settings that span the world. I love it!”
—Dale Brown, author of Flight of the Old Dog and Air Battle Force
“Smart, complex, and immensely entertaining. The surprises start on the first page and keep coming all the way to the end. The Coil is sure to be a bestseller!”
—Thomas Perry, author of Pursuit and The Butcher’s Boy
“In this thrill-a-minute tale of secret operatives and hired assassins, Gayle Lynds proves once again why she’s the leading lady on international intrigue. Her dead-on research and breakneck pacing leave you—like former CIA agent Liz Sansborough—navigating a maze of deadly agendas. Beware the Coil!”
—Gregg Hurwitz, author of The Kill Clause and Do No Harm
“The Coil is a terrific read, exactly the kind of fast-paced espionage thriller that I love. Great characters, a turbo-charged narrative full of surprises, dark and fabulous settings—what more could you want?”
—Douglas J. Preston
“This fast-paced international espionage thriller is Lynds at her best. With an abundance of surprising twists and turns, smart and savvy writing, as well as mysterious and compelling characters, it kept me riveted to the end. A great read!”
—Old Book Barn Gazette
Masquerade
A People Magazine “Page Turner of the Week”
“A fantastic read…I could not put this book down.”
—John T. Lescroart
“A disturbing link to recent headlines.”
—The New York Times
“Watch out, Robert Ludlum! A bravura performance by Lynds, whose maiden race in the international thriller sweepstakes should make ‘the boys’ turn around.”
—Sue Grafton
“A gloriously paranoid, immensely satisfying international thriller.”
—Los Angeles Times
“A mirror-maze of perils and pitfalls.”
—The Wall Street Journal
“Page-turning suspense…an edge-of-the-seat spy novel.”
—Faye Kellerman
“A master of intrigue and adventure. Her rush-to-the-next-page excitement never stops.”
—Clive Cussler
“Teeth-grinding suspense.”
—Publishers Weekly
For my stepdaughter, Deirdre Lynds,
who rides music and surf with equal grace and joy…
showing the way for the rest of us
Author’s Note
About eight years ago, during research I stumbled upon one of those paragraphs that are the lifeblood of a novelist. It mentioned a yearly meeting of powerful world leaders that called itself the Bilderberg Group. I was intrigued. Unlike the VIP-bristling World Economic Forum, which usually gathers in Davos, Switzerland, and Allen & Co., which is legendary for its low-key, high-level summits in Sun Valley, Idaho, the Bilderbergers were a complete unknown to me.
For good reason. As it turned out, the elite organization not only shuns publicity, it forbids it. Or as the Toronto National Post explained later, on May 24, 2001, “The conferences are held under absolute secrecy and tight security, with no media coverage allowed.”
But back in 1995, I had no idea what I faced. I dived in, setting up shop in the library, hunting through thousands of U.S. newspapers, magazines, and books. I’m a researcher. I know how to find the most arcane data, but I was stymied, until I discovered Spotlight, a right-wing populist newsweekly based in Washington, D.C., which claimed to have reported Bilderberger’s annual assemblies for more than two decades. Taking away Spotlight’s extreme political and emotional spin, but figuring in its on-the-scene photos, lists of attendees, and lists of yearly venues dating back to 1954, I began to believe the Bilderberg Group might not only be real but an idea for a book.
The test came a year later, when Spotlight predicted Bilderberg would hold its next covert confab at a luxury resort outside Toronto. I ordered the Toronto Star and held my breath. On June 6, 1996, I had confirmation at last from a mainstream news source: “The Bilderberg Conference of 120 world business and political leaders is unfolding in secrecy,” the Star reported, “just as they planned” at the Canadian Imperial Bank of Commerce’s leadership center at the former King City Ranch.
That night, I enjoyed a large glass of excellent pinot noir in celebration.
Over the years, as I wrote other novels, I continued to research the Bilderbergers—a hobby, perhaps an obsession. As a result, in The Coil, the Nautilus Group is based loosely on the Bilderberg Group. Both have headquarters in The Hague, both were named for the hotels in which they first officially met, and both employ extreme security, color-coded badges, and sniffer dogs. But after that, the facts diverge. For instance, I have no information or knowledge that a diabolical inner circle such as the Coil exists within Bilderberg.
I’m pleased to report that because of the doggedness of some journalists and protesters and the vast resources of the Internet, news coverage of the group is widening. In fact, London’s Sunday Times jokes that Bilderberg meetings are “the world’s greatest networking opportunity,” while Portugal’s The News refers gravely to the group’s members and guests as “the world’s unelected leaders.”
In a tongue-in-cheek article, The Guardian of England and Wales points out, “It is, according to some, a sinister shadow world government dedicated to seizing control of the levers of the global economy. So why…put Lord Carrington’s picture at the top of this column? He runs [Bilderberg] along with Henry Kissinger and David Rockefeller, billionaire owner of New York’s Chase Manhattan Bank…. What will they discuss? Don’t know. There are no statements, no sound bites, no photo calls….”
The Atlanta Constitution seems to think it has a better handle on the situation: “…the Bilderbergers say the required pledge of delegates not to discuss what goes on at their meetings is simply to provide a private, informal
environment in which those who influence national policies and international affairs can get to know each other and discuss, without commitment, their common problems.”
Still, with media giants like Donald Graham of The Washington Post and billionaire bankers like Edmond de Rothschild and auto tycoons like Jurgen Schrempp of DaimlerChrysler and politicians with global clout like James D. Wolfensohn of the World Bank and Donald Rumsfeld of the U.S. Department of Defense in attendance…the Bilderbergers continue to hold my interest.
They may just be talking shop, but the clandestine nature of their gatherings provokes all sorts of reactions. As The Financial Times once pointed out, “If the Bilderberg group is not a conspiracy of some sort, it is conducted in such a way as to give a remarkably good imitation of one.”
Its current secretary-general, Martin Taylor of WH Smith, says he’s done his best to increase its openness, according to the Sunday Times. But then, the minutes of its meetings have been secret for the past half century, which likely hinders that goal. When Time magazine analyzed the top six “Business Power Camps” in its July 20, 1998, issue, it awarded exclusivity ratings. Ten meant the most exclusive. Only one group rated it—the Bilderbergers.
For more reading, I suggest two books originally published in Britain:
MI6: Inside the Covert World of Her Majesty’s Secret Intelligence Service, by Stephen Dorril, published by the Free Press in 2000.
Them: Adventures with Extremists by Jon Ronson, published by Simon & Schuster in 2002.
Gayle Lynds
Santa Barbara, California
August 18, 2003
Contents
Prologue
Part One
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Part Two
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Four
Chapter Thirty-Five
Part Three
Chapter Thirty-Six
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Chapter Forty
Chapter Forty-One
Chapter Forty-Two
Chapter Forty-Three
Chapter Forty-Four
Chapter Forty-Five
Chapter Forty-Six
Chapter Forty-Seven
Chapter Forty-Eight
Chapter Forty-Nine
Chapter Fifty
Chapter Fifty-One
Chapter Fifty-Two
Epilogue
Acknowledgments
Prologue
February 1998
Fredericksburg, Virginia
As the State Department limousine sped through the wintry forest, Secretary of State Grey Mellencamp pressed the button to raise the soundproof glass that provided privacy from his driver. He stared out at the leafless trees and bushes, cold and black in the twilight. They formed a dark wall on either side of the Virginia road, almost a tunnel as they crowded together, lined with mounds of dirty snow. There was no movement out there in the shadowy timber, no sign of life.
With a sense of foreboding, Mellencamp sat back. He had just left his meeting with Liz Sansborough, where he had failed to get the information he needed. He was angry and disappointed but, as he thought about it, relieved, too, because she had been slated for sacrifice. Someone would be eventually. In the end, probably many. He hoped each was guilty, so their executions would be justified. He did not like any of it, and now that he believed Liz Sansborough was innocent, he liked it even less.
He continued to stare out the window, forcing himself to relax, inhaling the scent of expensive leather upholstery. He had made thousands of successful deals around the world, first for his corporate law firm and now as secretary of state, and he recognized a situation he could handle.
He removed his cell from inside his coat and dialed Brussels.
Instantly, an English-accented voice answered: “Cronus here.”
Mellencamp put authority into his words: “I’ve finished my interview with Sansborough at the safe house. She claims she saw no files, that it would’ve been out of character for her father to keep them. She never varied from her story.”
“Bloody hell! He had to have files,” Cronus said, his voice rising, the English accent crisp. “He must have kept track of whom he’d worked for and what he’d done. His contacts, for God’s sakes. Who was secure, who wasn’t. What worked. What failed. Addresses. Phone numbers. Aliases. No one can stay in business, especially one like his, without records. Certainly she’s lying!”
The secretary of state bit back an irritated retort. “Sansborough says the Carnivore had a photographic memory, which means he had no reason to record details for himself. He told her he always destroyed everything that was on paper—plans, maps, timetables, that sort of thing—once he’d completed a wet job. Sansborough’s mother told us the same thing when she was debriefed, and everyone knows the main reason he lasted so long was his hypervigilance.”
The Englishman’s tone was dismissive. “From all that’s happened, they must exist. And Sansborough must know where they are. She’s the only logical one, now that her mother’s dead.”
“Yes, obviously there are records, but her parents kept her in the dark. If she hadn’t spotted her father in the middle of that wipe job in Lisbon, she might never have found out about their secret life, and we probably wouldn’t have either. Ignorance was the best way to keep her safe, so what possible reason would they have to tell her about files? Besides, when she went over to them, they quit the business. She never actually saw them plan a hit. All in all, it makes no sense she’d know about files.” He paused, and his heavy shoulders squared. “We’ll find them, but it won’t be through her.”
“She must be playing you, Themis. She’s capable of it. One of Langley’s best.”
Mellencamp was growing angry again. “Do you think that if she were holding back I wouldn’t go after her with everything we have? I’m the one at risk here. This is a hell of a lot more important to me than it is to you. You’re not being blackmailed because of what’s in those damned records.” He felt his heart pound. He was overweight and had a coronary condition, which frightened him when he allowed himself to think about it.
He closed his eyes and tried to get his emotions under control. Liz Sansborough was the only child of Hal Sansborough—the Carnivore, who had been one of the Cold War’s most feared and elusive independent assassins. Despite competition for notoriety from others such as Carlos the Jackal and Imad Fayez Mugniyeh and the Abbot, the Carnivore was the real legend among those who knew about such things—hated, but hired by all sides. He had never made a mistake big enough to jeopardize his identity. No photos of him existed, and until near the time he killed himself, no one had been able to discover his real name. He had been a chimera, a chameleon in the world’s soft underbelly of spies and international criminals, indestructible. The man without a face.
When Cronus spoke again, his voice was less accusatory. “Are you going to do what the blackmailer wants, Themis?”
“If it is, I don’t see it.”
Mellencamp said nothing, studying them.
The Times, Great Britain
Sir Robert Childs, MP, was found dead in his bathtub today, his wrists slashed in an apparent suicide. His maid, who discovered the popular parliamentarian’s body, says she found a note that relayed deep regrets to his family about his secret life with call girls….
Bild, Germany (translated)
The nation awoke in shock this morning to discover Chancellor Hans Raab had resigned at midnight. Hounded by charges that he accepted illegal donations in return for political influence during his 16 years in power, he…
The Washington Post, United States
In yet another electoral surprise, the sixth congressman in as many weeks has announced he is dropping out of his congressional race. Jay White (D-OR) cited the birth of his third child, saying he needed to return to the private sector to earn a larger income to support his family.
That makes a total of three Republicans and three Democrats, each from the extreme right or left wing of his party, who will not run for reelection. None faced a serious challenge….