by Brad Thor
“QUITE POSSIBLY THE NEXT COMING OF ROBERT LUDLUM.”—Chicago Tribune
When the president of the United States is blackmailed into releasing five detainees from Guantanamo Bay, a sadistic assassin with a vendetta years in the making is reactivated. Suddenly, the people closest to counterterrorism operative Scot Harvath are being targeted and he realizes that somehow, somewhere he has left the wrong person alive. With his life plunged into absolute peril, and the president ordering him to stay out of the investigation, Harvath must mount his own covert plan for revenge—and in so doing will uncover shattering revelations about the organizations and the nation he has spent his life serving.
THE FIRST COMMANDMENT
From the author of Blowback—one of NPR’s top 100 “Killer Thrillers” of all time!
“A MUST-READ FOR OUR TIMES!”
—James Rollins, New York Times bestselling author
Includes an excerpt from Brad Thor’s The Athena Project
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THE SOURCE FOR READING GROUPS
BRAD THOR has served as a member of the Department of Homeland Security’s Analytic Red Cell Program and is the #1 New York Times bestselling author of nine Scot Harvath thrillers, including The First Commandment, The Last Patriot, The Apostle, and Foreign Influence. He begins a new series with his most recent thriller, The Athena Project.
Visit www.BradThor.com.
Also by Brad Thor
The Lions of Lucerne
Path of the Assassin
State of the Union
Blowback
Takedown
The First Commandment
The Last Patriot
The Apostle
Foreign Influence
The Athena Project
Full Black
Black List
From The Lions of Lucerne to Foreign Influence, Brad Thor’s Scot Harvath series delivers “high voltage entertainment reminiscent of Robert Ludlum” (Library Journal). While keeping readers riveted with heart-pounding suspense, the #1 New York Times bestselling author is also “changing the scope of the espionage novel in today’s world (Tampa Tribune).
Praise for
FOREIGN INFLUENCE
Named One of the Best Political Thrillers of 2010 by Suspense Magazine
“Frightening, illuminating, and entertaining. … If you’re not hyperventilating once you’ve reached the last page, then you weren’t paying attention.”
—Bookreporter.com
“Intrigue, adventure, and adrenaline-rushing action. …”
—New American Truth
“Pulse-pounding.”
—International Thriller Writers, Inc.
THE APOSTLE
“Blasts off like a guided missile and never slows down. … Brad Thor rocks!”
—Tess Gerritsen, New York Times bestselling author of Ice Cold
“An out-of-the-ballpark home run. You won’t want to put it down.”
—Blackwater Tactical Weekly
“Powerful and convincing. … A breathtaking, edge-of-your-seat experience.”
—National Terror Alert.com
More acclaim for Brad Thor’s bestsellers featuring Scot Harvath, “the perfect all-American hero for the post–September 11th world” (Nelson DeMille)
THE LAST PATRIOT
“A thriller to die for.”
—Glenn Beck
“As close to a perfect thriller as you’ll ever find. … Brilliantly plotted and ingeniously conceived.”
—Providence Journal-Bulletin (RI)
“Wow, this guy can write.”
—The Atlanta Journal-Constitution
THE FIRST COMMANDMENT
“An intelligent, sizzling adventure full of international intrigue.”
—Wilmington Morning Star (NC)
“An adrenaline-charged thriller. … Brad Thor knows how to excite the senses.”
—Steve Berry, New York Times bestselling author of The Emperor’s Tomb
TAKEDOWN
“[Like] the TV show 24 and other high-octane thrillers, Takedown is crisp and cinematic, with … gun-blazing, gut-busting action.”
—The Tennessean
“Enthralling. … A smart, explosive work that details events about to happen outside your front door.”
—Bookreporter.com
“Exciting … frightening. … [A] masterpiece.”
—Midwest Book Review
BLOWBACK
“Haunting, high-voltage. … One of the best thriller writers in the business.”
—Ottawa Citizen
“An incredible international thriller. … Riveting and superior.”
—Brunei Press Syndicate
STATE OF THE UNION
“Frighteningly real.”
—Ottawa Citizen
“[A] blistering, testosterone-fueled espionage thriller.”
—Publishers Weekly
PATH OF THE ASSASSIN
“Brad Thor is as current as tomorrow’s headlines.”
—Dan Brown
“The action is relentless, the pacing sublime.”
—Ottawa Citizen
THE LIONS OF LUCERNE
“Fast-paced, scarily authentic—I just couldn’t put it down.”
—Vince Flynn
“A hot read for a winter night. … Bottom line: Lions roars.”
—People
Brad Thor’s titles are also available from Simon & Schuster Audio
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ATRIA BOOKS
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New York, NY 10020
www.SimonandSchuster.com
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2007 by Brad Thor
All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever. For information, address Atria Books Subsidiary Rights Department, 1230 Avenue of the Americas, New York, NY 10020.
This Pocket Books paperback edition May 2011
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Cover design by Jae Song
Image © Maurice Savage/Alamy
ISBN 978-1-4516-3566-9
ISBN 978-1-4165-5131-7 (eBook)
For Scott F. Hill, Ph.D.—a dedicated patriot who has put love of country and love of family above all else
De inimico non loquaris male, sed cogites.
Do not wish ill for your enemy, plan it.
CONTENTS
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
&
nbsp; Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Chapter 51
Chapter 52
Chapter 53
Chapter 54
Chapter 55
Chapter 56
Chapter 57
Chapter 58
Chapter 59
Chapter 60
Chapter 61
Chapter 62
Chapter 63
Chapter 64
Chapter 65
Chapter 66
Chapter 67
Chapter 68
Chapter 69
Chapter 70
Chapter 71
Chapter 72
Chapter 73
Chapter 74
Chapter 75
Chapter 76
Chapter 77
Chapter 78
Chapter 79
Chapter 80
Chapter 81
Chapter 82
Chapter 83
Chapter 84
Chapter 85
Chapter 86
Chapter 87
Chapter 88
Chapter 89
Chapter 90
Chapter 91
Chapter 92
Chapter 93
Chapter 94
Chapter 95
Chapter 96
Chapter 97
Chapter 98
Chapter 99
Chapter 100
Chapter 101
Chapter 102
Chapter 103
Chapter 104
Chapter 105
Chapter 106
Chapter 107
Chapter 108
Chapter 109
Chapter 110
Chapter 111
Chapter 112
Chapter 113
Chapter 114
Chapter 115
Chapter 116
Chapter 117
Chapter 118
Chapter 119
Chapter 120
Chapter 121
Chapter 122
Chapter 123
Chapter 124
Acknowledgments
'Black List' Excerpt
Reader’s Companion
About the Author
About Emily Bestler Books
About Atria Books
Ask Atria
CHAPTER 1
CAMP DELTA
U.S. NAVAL STATION
GUANTANAMO BAY, CUBA
When it was hot and humid, life in Cuba hovered somewhere between absolute misery and “the bath is ready does anyone have a razor blade?” But when it was cold and raining, Cuba was downright unbearable. Tonight was one of those nights.
When the guards arrived at the isolation cells of Delta’s “Camp 5,” where the most dangerous and highest-intelligence-value detainees resided, they were in a worse mood than usual. And it wasn’t because of the weather. Something was wrong. It was written all over their faces as they pulled five prisoners from their cells and ordered them at gunpoint to strip.
Philippe Roussard hadn’t been at Guantanamo the longest, but he had definitely been interrogated the hardest. A European of Arab descent, he was a sniper of extraordinary ability whose exploits were legendary. Videos of his kills played on continuous loops on jihadist websites across the internet. To his Muslim brothers he was nothing short of a superhero in the radical Islamist pantheon. To the United States, he was a horrific killing machine responsible for the deaths of over one hundred U.S. soldiers.
As Roussard looked into the eyes of his jailers, though, he saw more than the usual pure hatred. Tonight it was coupled with absolute disgust. Whatever middle-of-the-night interrogation tactic the Joint Task Force Guantanamo soldiers had in store for Roussard and his four colleagues, something told him it wasn’t going to be like anything they had experienced before. The guards appeared on the verge of losing control.
Had an attack been successfully executed against the United States? What else could have put the soldiers in such a state?
If so, Roussard felt certain that the Americans would make the prisoners pay. Undoubtedly, they had devised yet another humiliating exercise designed to insult their prisoners’ Muslim sensibilities. Privately, Roussard hoped the torture involved the attractive blond soldier and that she would disrobe down to her lacy, black lingerie and rub herself against him. Though he knew it was wrong, his fantasies of what he wanted to do to that woman were what kept him nicely occupied during the long, lonely hours of isolation he endured.
He was still speculating about his fate when he heard the door at the far end of the cell block shut. Roussard looked up, hoping it was the blond, but it wasn’t. Another soldier had entered carrying five paper shopping bags. As he passed, he threw each of the prisoners a bag.
“Get dressed!” he ordered in awkward Arabic.
Confused, all of the prisoners, including Roussard, removed the civilian clothing from their bags and began to get dressed. The men cast furtive glances at one another as they tried to figure out what was happening. Roussard was reminded of stories he’d heard about Jewish concentration camp prisoners who were told they were being taken for showers when they were actually on their way to the gas chambers.
He doubted the Americans were dressing them in new clothes only to execute them, but nevertheless the uncertainty of what they were about to face filled him with more than a little trepidation.
“Why don’t they try to make a run for it?” one of the guards whispered to his comrade as he stroked the trigger guard of his M-16. “I just want one of these fuckers to rabbit on us.”
“This is bullshit,” replied the other. “What the hell are we doing?”
“You two, shut up!” barked their commander, who then called in a series of commands over his radio.
Something definitely wasn’t right.
Once they were completely clothed, shackles were placed around their wrists and ankles and they were lined up against the far wall.
This is it, thought Roussard as he held the stare of the soldier who had been hoping for one of the prisoners to make a run for it.
The soldier’s finger went from his weapon’s trigger guard to its actual trigger and he seemed about to say something when a series of vehicles ground to a halt just outside.
“That’s us,” shouted the Task Force commander. “Let’s mount up.”
The prisoners were shoved toward the door. Roussard hoped that once they got outside and he could see where they were going, things would make more sense.
That plan was dashed as one by one, black hoods were placed over each man’s head before he was taken outside to a waiting column of green Humvees.
Ten minutes later, the convoy came to a stop. Before Roussard’s heavy hood was removed, he could make out the distinct, high-pitched whine of idling jet engines.
On the rain-soaked tarmac, the prisoners stared up at an enormous Boeing 727 as their shackles were removed. A metal staircase had been rolled up against the side of the aircraft and its door stood wide open.
No one said a word, but based on the demeanor of the soldiers—who seemed to have been ordered to keep thei
r distance from the plane—Roussard came to a stunning conclusion. Without being directed to do so, he took a step forward. When none of the soldiers tried to stop him, he took another and another until his feet touched the first metal step and he began climbing upward two at a time. His salvation was at hand! Just as he had known it eventually would be.
With the sound of the other prisoners pounding up the gangway behind him, Roussard stepped cautiously into the cabin. He was met by the plane’s first officer, who compared his likeness to a photo on his clipboard, removed a heavy black envelope, and said, “We were told to give you this.”
Roussard had received envelopes like this before. Without even opening it, he knew who it was from.
“If you wouldn’t mind taking a seat,” continued the first officer. “The captain is eager to be under-way.”
Roussard found an empty place near the window and buckled himself in. As the main cabin door was closed, several members of the flight crew disappeared into the rear of the aircraft and returned lugging odd-looking pieces of medical equipment, along with an equal number of large, plastic coolers.
None of it made any sense to Roussard until he opened the envelope and read its contents. A slow smile then began to spread across his face. It was done. Not only was he free, but the Americans would not be able to come after him. He was going to have his revenge—and much sooner than he would have thought.
Opening his window shade, Roussard could see the soldiers climbing back into their Humvees and driving away from their airstrip, several with their hands hanging out the windows and their middle fingers raised in mock salute.
As the aircraft’s engines roared to life and the heavy beast began to roll forward, cheers of “Allahu Akbar,” God is great, erupted from the front of the plane.
Allah was indeed great, but Roussard knew it wasn’t He who had arranged for their release. As he stared at the black envelope, he knew their gratitude was owed to someone much less benevolent.
Turning his attention back to the window as the soldiers quickly disappeared from view, Roussard cocked thumb and forefinger, took aim, and pulled an imaginary trigger.
Now that he was free, he knew that it was only a matter of time before his handler turned him loose inside America to exact his revenge.
