by Jack Mars
F I L E Z E R O
(AN AGENT ZERO SPY THRILLER—BOOK 5)
J A C K M A R S
Jack Mars
Jack Mars is the USA Today bestselling author of the LUKE STONE thriller series, which includes seven books. He is also the author of the new FORGING OF LUKE STONE prequel series, comprising three books (and counting); and of the AGENT ZERO spy thriller series, comprising six books (and counting).
ANY MEANS NECESSARY (book #1), which has over 800 five star reviews, is available as a free download on Kobo!
Jack loves to hear from you, so please feel free to visit www.Jackmarsauthor.com to join the email list, receive a free book, receive free giveaways, connect on Facebook and Twitter, and stay in touch!
Copyright © 2019 by Jack Mars. All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior permission of the author. This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return it and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places, events, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictionally. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
BOOKS BY JACK MARS
LUKE STONE THRILLER SERIES
ANY MEANS NECESSARY (Book #1)
OATH OF OFFICE (Book #2)
SITUATION ROOM (Book #3)
OPPOSE ANY FOE (Book #4)
PRESIDENT ELECT (Book #5)
OUR SACRED HONOR (Book #6)
HOUSE DIVIDED (Book #7)
FORGING OF LUKE STONE PREQUEL SERIES
PRIMARY TARGET (Book #1)
PRIMARY COMMAND (Book #2)
PRIMARY THREAT (Book #3)
AN AGENT ZERO SPY THRILLER SERIES
AGENT ZERO (Book #1)
TARGET ZERO (Book #2)
HUNTING ZERO (Book #3)
TRAPPING ZERO (Book #4)
FILE ZERO (Book #5)
RECALL ZERO (Book #6)
TRAPPING ZERO (Book #4) - Summary
A new threat rises to power that threatens to shake the foundation of America to its core. It’s up to CIA Agent Kent Steele to pull at the threads and unravel the brilliant but deadly master plan before it is executed—all while staying out of the line of fire of those who want him dead.
Agent Zero: Though he was unable to stop the Brotherhood from destroying the Midtown Tunnel in New York, Agent Zero successfully ended the terrorist organization and helped save thousands of lives. During a clandestine award ceremony at the White House, his lost memories suddenly returned to him all at once—including his knowledge about the war conspiracy.
Maya and Sara Lawson: Now that they know what their father is and does, Zero’s daughters understand that they are viable targets for those trying to get to him. However, they refuse to become victims again, displaying intelligence and tenacity far beyond their age.
Agent Maria Johansson: Maria continues to work with the Ukrainians despite Zero’s insistence that she break ties. Though stopping the war is crucial to her, she is equally determined to find out if her father, a high-ranking member of the National Security Council, is involved in the government conspiracy—and if not, what might become of him if he doesn’t relent.
Agent Todd Strickland: The young CIA agent and former Army Ranger was stunned to learn of the government plot from his friend Agent Zero, but now that he knows, he is as resolute as anyone to help put an end to it and keep innocent people from needlessly dying.
Dr. Guyer: The brilliant Swiss neurologist that initially installed the memory suppressor in Agent Zero’s head attempted to bring the memories back with a machine of his own invention. He believed the process had failed, and is unaware that Zero’s memories have belatedly returned.
Agent Talia Mendel: The Israeli Mossad agent helped put a stop to the Brotherhood’s plot in both Haifa and New York. Though unaware of the conspiracy, Mendel makes no attempt to hide her appreciation for, and attraction to, Agent Zero, willing to help in any capacity she’s able.
Fitzpatrick: The leader of the “private security force” known as the Division, Fitzpatrick was sent after Agent Zero by Deputy Director Ashleigh Riker in an effort to stall him in New York. Fitzpatrick was struck by a car driven by Talia Mendel, his fate largely unknown.
Contents
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
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
CHAPTER THIRTY SIX
CHAPTER THIRTY SEVEN
CHAPTER THIRTY EIGHT
CHAPTER THIRTY NINE
CHAPTER FORTY
CHAPTER FORTY ONE
CHAPTER FORTY TWO
CHAPTER ONE
I am Agent Zero.
He had already known it, at least for the past few months, ever since the memory suppressor had been violently ripped from his skull by the trio of Iranian terrorists working for Amun. But this… this was different from just knowing. It was an awareness, a sense of being and belonging that had come on as swiftly as a heart attack, and equally pernicious.
“Agent Zero?” said President Eli Pierson. “Do you need to sit?”
Reid Lawson stood in the Oval Office, the President of the United States standing before him with a smile on his lips but puzzlement in his eyes. In his hands, the president held a polished wooden box of dark cherry. The lid was open; nestled in a small pillow of velvet was the Distinguished Intelligence Cross, the highest award the CIA could give.
Only a minute earlier, Reid could not recall ever having visited the White House before. But now he recalled it all. He had been here several times, clandestine meetings just like this one, so the president could commend him on a job well done.
Less than a minute earlier, the president had said, “I’m so sorry. Director Mullen, is this the Intelligence Cross, or the Star? I can’t seem to keep them straight.”
And that was when it happened. That single word had triggered it all:
Straight.
That word stuck in Reid’s mind and lodged there, sending an electric tingle up his spine.
Strait.
And then the floodgates opened suddenly and without warning. It felt as if an intruder had shouldered open the door to his brain, forced his way in, and made it his new home. Quick as a bolt of lightning, he remembered.
He remembered eve
rything.
Hunting terrorists in the Gaza Strip. Apprehending bomb makers in Kandahar. Midnight raids on compounds. Briefings, debriefings, weapons training, combat training, flight lessons, languages, interrogation tactics, rapid intervention… In half a second, the dam in Reid Lawson’s limbic system broke and Agent Zero surged through. It was too much, far too much to process that quickly. His knees threatened to buckle and his hands trembled. He slumped; Maria’s arms caught him before he hit the carpet.
“Kent,” she said quietly but urgently. “Are you all right?”
“Yeah,” he murmured.
I need to get out of here.
“I’m okay.”
I’m not okay.
“It’s, uh…” He cleared his throat and forced himself to stand again, albeit shakily. “It’s just the pain medication, for my hand. Made me a bit woozy. I’m okay.” His right hand was wrapped in layers of metal braces, gauze, and tape, after the terrorist Awad bin Saddam had crushed it with the anchor of a motorboat. Nine of the twenty-seven bones in his hand were broken.
And even though there had been a throbbing pain only a minute ago, he now felt nothing.
President Pierson smiled. “I understand. No one here will be offended if you sit.” The president was a charismatic man, young for the office at only forty-six and nearing the end of his first term. He was an excellent orator, praised by the middle class, and he had been a friend to Zero. Now he knew it to be true: his memories told him.
“Really. I’m okay.”
“Good.” The president nodded and lifted the dark cherry box in his hands. “Agent Zero, it is my great honor and genuine pleasure to give you this Distinguished Intelligence Cross.”
Reid nodded, forcing himself to stand straight, to keep himself steady as Pierson presented the gold, three-inch-round medal nestled inside the box. He handed it to Reid gently and Reid took it.
“Thank you. Um, Mr. President.”
“No,” said Pierson. “Thank you, Agent Zero.”
Agent Zero.
The room broke out into light applause and Zero looked up quickly, bewildered; he had nearly forgotten there were other people in the Oval Office. Standing to the left of Pierson’s desk was Vice President Cole, and beside him were the Secretaries of Defense, Homeland Security, and State. Opposite them were Christopher Poe, head of the FBI, Governor Thompson of New York, and Director of National Intelligence John Hillis.
Beside the DNI was Zero’s own boss, CIA Director Mullen, his hands making a show of clapping but hardly emitting any noise. His bald head, ringed with gray hair, gleamed under the lights. Deputy Director Ashleigh Riker was beside him in her usual uniform of a charcoal gray pencil skirt and matching blazer.
He knew about them. These people who were applauding him, he had gathered intelligence on nearly every single one of them that suggested they were involved in the plot. The knowledge came to him as if it had always been there. The Secretary of Defense, retired general Quentin Rigby; Vice President Cole; even DNI Hillis, the only man other than President Pierson that Mullen answered to. Not one among them was innocent. They were not to be trusted. They were all involved.
Two years ago, Zero had discovered the plot, or at least part of it, and he had been building a case. While interrogating a terrorist at the black site H-6 in Morocco, Zero had stumbled upon a conspiracy for the United States to manufacture a war in the Middle East.
The strait—that was the trigger. The intention was for the US to gain control of the Strait of Hormuz, a narrow waterway between the Gulf of Oman and Iran, a global thoroughfare for oil shipping and one of the most strategic maritime chokepoints the world over. It was no secret that the United States had a substantial presence in the Persian Gulf, an entire fleet, and it was all for one reason: to protect their interests. And their interests boiled down to a single resource.
Oil.
That’s what this was about. That’s what it had always been about. Oil meant money, and money meant that the people in power got to stay in power.
The Brotherhood’s attack on New York City was the catalyst. A large-scale terrorist attack was just the provocation the government needed not only to justify a war, but to rally the American people to the side of abject patriotism. They had seen it work before with the attack on September 11, and had been keeping the notion in their back pocket until they needed it again.
Awad bin Saddam, the young leader of the Brotherhood who believed he had orchestrated the attack, had been a pawn. He had unwittingly been led to the conclusions he thought he had drawn himself. The Libyan arms dealer that had supplied the terrorists with submersible drones was undoubtedly a liaison between the US and the Brotherhood. But there was no way to prove that now; the Libyan was dead. Bin Saddam was dead. Anyone who might be able to substantiate Zero’s belief was dead.
Now the catalyst had happened. Even though Zero and his small team had thwarted the large-scale loss of life that bin Saddam had hoped for, hundreds had been killed and the Midtown Tunnel was lost. The American people were outraged. Xenophobia and hostility toward Middle Easterners was already running rampant.
Two years ago, he thought he had time to build a case, to gather evidence—but then came Amun, Rais, and the memory suppressor. Now, he was out of time. The men surrounding him, applauding him, these heads of state and government captains, were about to start a war.
But this time around, Zero wasn’t alone.
To his left, standing in a line beside him in front of the president’s desk, were the people that he counted among friends. Those he could trust; or rather, those he believed he could trust.
John Watson. Todd Strickland. Maria Johansson.
Watson’s real name is Oliver Brown. Born and raised in Detroit. Lost his six-year-old son to leukemia three years ago.
Maria’s real name is Clara. She told you that after your first night together, during your tryst. After Kate died.
No. After Kate was murdered.
My god. Kate. The memory struck him like a hammer to the head. She had been poisoned with a powerful toxin that caused respiratory and cardiac failure as she walked to her car after work one day. Zero had always believed it was the work of Amun and their top assassin, but Rais’s dying words had been but three letters.
C-I-A.
I need to get out of here.
“Agents,” said President Pierson, “I thank you once again on behalf of the American people for your service.” He flashed a winning smile at the four of them before addressing the entire room. “Now, we have an excellent luncheon prepared in the State Dining Room, if you’ll all indulge me. Right this way—”
“Sir,” Zero spoke up. Pierson turned to him, the smile still on his lips. “I appreciate the offer, but if it’s all the same to you, I, uh, really think I should get some rest.” He held up his right hand, wrapped thick as a catcher’s mitt. “My head is swimming from the medication.”
Pierson nodded deeply. “Of course, Zero. You deserve some rest, some time with your family. Although it feels a bit odd to hold a reception without a guest of honor, I doubt this will be the last time we see each other.” The president grinned. “This must be, what, the fourth time we’ve met like this?”
Zero forced a smile of his own. “Fifth, if I’m not mistaken.” He shook the president’s hand once more, awkwardly, with his uninjured left. As he left the Oval Office, escorted by two Secret Service agents, he couldn’t help but notice in his periphery the expressions on Rigby’s and Mullen’s faces.
They’re suspicious. Do they know I know?
You’re being paranoid. You need to get out of here and focus.
It wasn’t paranoia. As he followed the two black-suited agents down the corridor, an alarm rang out in his head. He realized what he had just done. How could you be so careless! he scolded himself.
He had just admitted, in front of the entire Oval Office of conspirators, that he remembered precisely how many times he’d been commended personally by Pierson.
Maybe they didn’t notice. But of course they did. By stopping the Brotherhood, Zero had made it clear that he was the top obstacle that stood in their way. They were aware that Zero knew things, at least partially. And if they suspected even for a moment that his memory had returned, he would be watched even more carefully than he’d been before.
All that meant to him was that he had to move faster than they did. The men he left behind in the Oval Office were already enacting their plan, and Zero was the only person who knew enough to stop them.
*
Outside it was a beautiful spring day. The weather was finally turning; the sun felt warm on his skin and the dogwood trees on the White House lawn had just begun to sprout small white flowers. But Zero hardly noticed. His head was spinning. He needed to get away from the influx of stimuli so he could process all this sudden information.
“Kent, wait up,” Maria called out. She and Strickland hurried after him as he strode toward the gates. He wasn’t heading to the parking lot, or back to the car. He wasn’t sure where he was going at the moment. He wasn’t sure of anything. “You sure you’re okay?”
“Yeah,” he muttered, not slowing. “Just need some air.”
Guyer. I have to contact Dr. Guyer and tell him that the procedure worked belatedly.
No. Can’t do that. They might have your phones tapped. Your email too.
Have I always been this paranoid?
“Hey.” Maria grabbed him by the shoulder and he spun to face her. “Talk to me. Tell me what’s going on.”
Zero stared into her gray eyes, noted the way her blonde hair fell around her shoulders in waves, and the memory of them together whirled through his head again. The feel of her skin. The shape of her hips. The taste of her mouth on his.
But there was something else there too. He recognized it as a stabbing pang of guilt. Kate hadn’t been killed yet. Did we… did I…?
