by Alan L. Lee
“But how long will the message last? We have been in a war for survival for decades.”
“And how much money did men like Roger Daniels make?”
Ezra at first was surprised Yadin knew the name, but then he remembered who was standing before him. Very little was ever left to chance.
“Daniels was necessary to accomplish the mission.”
“And what does it say, Ezra, that our own government didn’t sanction the mission? The American woman from the CIA, I understand she deserved better.”
“You don’t see it now, but again, a necessary step. She was on the verge of ruining years of hard work and planning. An operation of that magnitude had to be allowed to run its course, no matter the sacrifice.”
“I still didn’t want to believe it, but then I staked out my so-called exit team. Even a blind man wouldn’t have stepped into that trap.”
“So it was you who shut down the reactors. You risked your life for those that have sworn to bury us?”
“I did what was right at the time. Besides, it was your call to let Shahroudi live. Fortunately, I was in charge of the blueprints, and I made some modifications, just in case. Still, I almost didn’t make it, Ezra, and you nearly succeeded. Nearly got away with it all. But like the play your granddaughters are watching, the clock for you has struck midnight.”
Yadin pounced with the quickness of a leopard, knocking Ezra backward and off balance. He tripped over the toilet seat, and only Yadin grabbing him by his suit coat lapel kept him from falling to the ground. Yadin positioned himself so that he had leverage. One arm pressed against the back of Ezra’s neck, holding it firmly in place while the other squeezed from the front with an unbreakable hold. As Ezra was about to lose consciousness, he tried to pry Yadin’s hand lose. The move forced Yadin to tighten the pressure with his other hand. It was as if an anaconda had taken hold. Ezra’s watery eyes were bulging, and slowly his feet stopped kicking as he lost the strength to fight back. His arms fell, dangling at the sides of his limp body. Yadin sat Ezra upright on the toilet seat and then retrieved the mobile phone that had been knocked to the floor during the altercation.
The janitor unlocked the restroom door and dragged his bucket and mop along as he exited. He paused to relock the door. The “Temporarily Closed” sign was still in place. The janitor started whistling as he headed down the hallway and out of sight.
CHAPTER 79
The peace and tranquility was all the therapy Alex needed. The events that nearly cost him his life all seemed trivial at the moment, nightmares that eroded with each foray into the ocean.
He had his Cruzan rum and a steady supply of cola and ice to go with it. The sun, as always, was a constant companion. To make the setting perfect, Alex’s collection of jazz music shuffled from bebop to smooth jazz as it played through strategically mounted speakers. He drifted in and out of sleep, his body eradicating the effects of jet lag.
When his mind did wander, it led him to Nora, Duncan, and the mysterious man named Nathan. If indeed that was his real name. Alex didn’t see how he could have made it out of that Natanz grave alive, but there had been an aura of the survivalist about him. In the end, Nathan had saved his life, and for that Alex was grateful.
He had no concrete idea where his relationship with Nora stood. Part of him wanted her back in his life, reluctantly admitting it was good to be around her again. But he had brushed off her attempts at affection more than once, and the answer as to why wasn’t immediately forthcoming.
As far as Duncan was concerned, an old friend was always a good friend, and being around the tech-savvy behemoth was a blast, whether they were drinking to excess or trying to save a piece of humanity. He really needed to see Duncan more often, so he made a note to invite him to the island for a short stint. He loved the big guy, but he’d kick his ass out after a couple of weeks.
Alex was slightly annoyed. Even with his eyes closed underneath sunglasses, he could feel the sun was taking a while to emerge from behind the clouds. He then realized the clouds were not at fault.
“So this is how you spend your days.”
Alex opened his eyes, recognizing both the voice and silhouette. He sat up on his elbows and, shaking his head, said, “I have to get a guard dog.”
“I’ve got a proposition for you.”
“Not interested.”
“Yeah, but you’ll listen, ’cause deep down inside, you know you miss it.”
George Champion carried his suit jacket over an arm as he admired Alex’s slice of heaven. He looked around for a chair or something to sit on, but finding nothing, he lowered himself into the sand next to Alex.
“Freddie Hubbard,” the man from the CIA guessed as he listened to the music. “‘Red Clay.’”
Alex downed more of his rum and Coke. “I’m impressed.”
“Well, you got me hooked on jazz.” Champion pointed at Alex’s drink. “Any more of those?”
For the next two hours they sat on the beach talking, listening to jazz, and knocking back rum and Cokes. Before Champion departed, Alex had promised he would seriously consider what was being offered.
Alex told him, though, that regardless of his decision, there was one thing he had to take care of first. Champion didn’t bother to ask what it was, because no matter how hard he might have pressed, Alex wouldn’t have told him.
There was one name Alex couldn’t stop thinking about, but he was determined to find the person it belonged to.
There was a score to settle with Dmitri Nevsky.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Alan L. Lee is a broadcast journalist with thirty-plus years in the business. He’s interviewed former President Jimmy Carter as well as cabinet members and senators, and has developed an insider’s knowledge of the intelligence community, which helped fuel his passion for writing thrillers. A graduate of Purdue University, Lee anchors the morning news for Fox in Detroit. Sandstorm is his debut novel. You can catch up with Alan L. Lee at www.alanllee.com.
This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
SANDSTORM
Copyright © 2013 by Alan L. Lee
All rights reserved.
Cover art by Arcangel (man and background), Jupiterimages (truck)
A Forge Book
Published by Tom Doherty Associates, LLC
175 Fifth Avenue
New York, NY 10010
www.tor-forge.com
Forge® is a registered trademark of Tom Doherty Associates, LLC.
ISBN 978-0-7653-3494-7 (hardcover)
ISBN 9781466819603 (e-book)
First Edition: June 2013
