Robert Ludlum's The Treadstone Resurrection (A Treadstone Novel, Band 1) - Softcover

Buch 1 von 4: Treadstone

Hood, Joshua

 
9780593087558: Robert Ludlum's The Treadstone Resurrection (A Treadstone Novel, Band 1)
Softcover
ISBN 10: 0593087550 ISBN 13: 9780593087558
Verlag: G.P. Putnam's Sons, 2020

Inhaltsangabe

The first novel in an explosive new series inspired by Robert Ludlum's Bourne universe, The Treadstone Resurrection introduces an unforgettable hero and the shadowy world that forged him...

Treadstone made Jason Bourne an unstoppable force, but he's not the only one.

Operation Treadstone has nearly ruined Adam Hayes. The top-secret CIA Black Ops program trained him to be an all but invincible assassin, but it also cost him his family and any chance at a normal life. Which is why he was determined to get out. Working as a carpenter in rural Washington state, Adam thinks he has left Treadstone in the past, until he receives a mysterious email from a former colleague, and soon after is attacked by an unknown hit team at his job site.

Adam must regain the skills that Treadstone taught him--lightning reflexes and a cold conscience--in order to discover who the would-be killers are and why they have come after him now. Are his pursuers enemies from a long-ago mission? Rival intelligence agents? Or, perhaps, forces inside Treadstone? His search will unearth secrets in the highest levels of government and pull him back into the shadowy world he worked so hard to forget.

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Über die Autorin bzw. den Autor

Joshua Hood is the author of Warning Order and Clear by Fire. He graduated from the University of Memphis before joining the military and spending five years in the 82nd Airborne Division. He was a team leader in the 3-504 Parachute Infantry Regiment in Iraq from 2005 to 2006, conducting combat operations in support of Operation Iraqi Freedom. From 2007 to 2008, Hood served as a squad leader with the 1-508th Parachute Infantry Regiment in Afghanistan for which he was decorated for valor in Operation Furious Pursuit. On his return to civilian life he became a sniper team leader on a full time SWAT team in Memphis, where he was awarded the lifesaving medal. Currently he works as the Director of Veteran Outreach for the American Warrior Initiative.


Robert Ludlum was the author of twenty-seven novels, each one a New York Times bestseller. There are more than 225 million of his books in print, and they have been translated into thirty-two languages. He is the author of The Scarlatti Inheritance, The Chancellor Manuscript, and the Jason Bourne series--The Bourne Identity, The Bourne Supremacy, and The Bourne Ultimatum--among other novels. Mr. Ludlum passed away in March 2001.

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1

La Conner, Washington

Adam Hayes was lying in the center of the bed when the nightmare came. The tremor started at the edge of his lips, a ripple that twisted into a feral snarl. He started to sweat, hands tearing at the sheets, eyes pinballing behind closed lids, mind trapped in the horrors of the past.

He waited in the shadows, eyes closed, ears straining for the sound of his approaching prey. Kill them all-that was the order. He was just the instrument-a man conditioned to kill without hesitation. His hand closed around the hilt of the knife at the small of his back. The metal hilt felt cold through the latex gloves. The blade came free with the hiss of steel on leather and Hayes opened his eyes; the sentryÕs face was green in the night vision.

Now, the voice told him, and he struck.

HayesÕs hand snaked under the pillow and his fingers closed around the reassuring steel of the Springfield 9-millimeter EMP. He rolled off the bed and dropped into a crouch, the hardwood cold as a corpse on his bare knees. Muscle memory had taken over, and his hands worked independently of thought. The snap of the pistol onto the target and the flick of the thumb disengaging the safety came unbidden.

It was only when his index finger curled around the trigger, compressing the spring until all it would take was a whisper of pressure for the gun to fire, that Hayes became conscious of the moment.

Then the nightmare evaporated.

Hayes blinked the world back into focus, his eyes falling to the outstretched pistol, sights centered on the shirt hanging on the back of the door. Jesus Christ.

He let go of the trigger and snicked the safety into place. The realization that he'd come within a hairsbreadth of sending a 9-millimeter hollow-point through the door made him sick to his stomach.

It was 5:05 in the morning and the nightmares were getting worse.

When he trusted his legs to hold him, Hayes grunted to his feet, placed the pistol on the bedside table, and padded across the hardwood to the bathroom. He palmed the wall switch and the overhead lights flashed to life, revealing the mass of scars that crisscrossed his bare torso like lines on a topographic map.

He stopped at the sink, plucked the orange pill bottle from the open medicine cabinet, and twisted the cap free. He shook a dose into his hand. The oblong pill in his callused palm reminded him of the last appointment with the shrink in Tacoma.

"What about the nightmares?" she asked, over the scratch of her pen across the paper.

"Haven't had one in months."

"Adam, you are making wonderful progress," she said, tearing the sheet from the prescription pad, "but."

There's always a but.

"But there will be setbacks."

Setbacks.

He felt the anger stir in his gut, like a wolf waking in its den. Three nightmares in one week wasn't a setback; it was a fucking meltdown. He was pissed. Mad that he'd listened to her-let himself believe that he'd made progress.

That he could be normal.

"No," he said aloud. "That's not who I am anymore."

He took a breath, placed the pill in his mouth, and gently closed the door. He took a drink of water from the sink, and when Hayes looked up, his eyes lighted on the sheet of construction paper taped to the glass. The stick-figure family holding hands beneath a lemon-yellow sun.

Hayes brushed his finger over the "I love my Daddy" scrawled in crayon, a sad smile stretching across his face.

In the shower, he twisted the cold-water knob all the way to the left and ducked under the showerhead. The water came out of the pipe ice-cold and hit his flesh with the sting of a bullwhip. His mind recoiled, muscles tensed like hawsers beneath his skin, forcing the air from his lungs, but Hayes stood fast and waited for the question that had greeted him every morning for the past eighteen months.

How did I get here?

The first time Hayes heard about Treadstone, he was in Afghanistan. Three months into a six-month tour and he'd already lost two men. That's when things started to go sideways. Lines that had been black and white started looking gray. Hayes wasn't sleeping, but he had it under control-or that's what he told himself.

Then he was called to Colonel Patten's hooch. Hayes found his boss sitting at his plywood desk, his skin an ashen gray, eyes red from the Afghani sand that seeped into every crack.

"Have a seat, Captain Hayes."

He lowered himself into the chair and listened to the echo of the helicopters coming up the valley. It was his third tour to the 'Stan and Hayes could recognize the helos by the sound. This was a Chinook; he could tell by the thump thump of the rotors.

Can't be resupply, they were just here, he thought. It's too dangerous to send random helicopters into the valley.

"I'm sending you to Bagram," Patten said, guessing his thoughts.

"For what reason, sir?"

The colonel spit a line of tobacco into the stained foam cup on his desk and leaned back in his chair. "The men are starting to talk."

"That's what soldiers do."

"The boss is worried, Adam. We all are. They are sending someone from the States, some kind of doctor who is going to check you out."

"A psych eval, are you serious?"

"Look, I don't like this any more than you do, but this came from the top. Just get on the bird and go answer the man's questions. Think of it like a break. This guy will get you squared away and you'll be back on the wall tomorrow."

It was a lie, but Hayes didn't know it at the time.

After the shower, he toweled off and dressed in a pair of worn Carhartts and a fleece button-down over a black T-shirt. He stomped his feet into a pair of worn Ariat Ropers, tucked the holstered Springfield into his pants, and walked to the kitchen.

Breakfast was a pair of fried eggs, two pieces of wheat toast, and what was left of the steak he'd grilled for dinner last night. By the time he finished eating and carried his coffee out to the deck, most of the fishing boats were out on the water and first light was spreading across the horizon like a fresh bruise.

Treadstone was a double-edged sword, one he thought would allow him to make a difference. He didn't mind the pain that came with the behavior modification and the genetic reprogramming. Hayes could handle that-he could handle anything they threw at him.

It was what happened after that he couldn't handle. Which was why he was in Washington, and his wife, Annabelle, and their two-year-old son, Jack, were living halfway across the country.

Adam . . . promise you won't try to find us.

The sound of the shop phone snapped him from the memory, and Hayes tossed the dregs of his coffee off the side of the deck and followed the sound to the red barn at the rear of the cabin.

Who the hell is calling this early? he wondered, punching his code into the lock. By the time he got the door open and flipped on the lights the machine had picked up.

"You've reached Sterling Construction, please leave your message at the beep."

"Adam, it's Sally Colvin, I need you to call me-"

Hayes snatched the phone off the cradle and killed the recording with a jab of his finger.

"Sally, I'm here," he said.

"Adam, hey, I . . ."

Sally Colvin was the realtor he'd hired to sell the Smith house, which the project that had kept Hayes sane during his eighteen-month self-imposed exile.

It was also his nest egg. His last chance to show Annabelle that he could build just as well as he could destroy. And the money from the sale was going to allow him to stop fixing other people's houses and work on repairing his broken marriage.

There was something in her voice that struck a chord. What is it? Hayes wondered before asking...

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Verlag
G.P. Putnam's Sons
Erscheinungsdatum
2020
Sprache
Englisch
ISBN 10 
0593087550
ISBN 13 
9780593087558
Einband
Taschenbuch
Anzahl der Seiten
384
Kontakt zum Hersteller
Nicht verfügbar
Verantwortliche Person
preigu
mail@preigu.de

Lengericher Landstr. 19
Osnabrück
49078
Deutschland

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9780525542551: Robert Ludlum's The Treadstone Resurrection (A Treadstone Novel, Band 1)

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ISBN 10:  0525542558 ISBN 13:  9780525542551
Verlag: G.P. Putnam's Sons, 2020
Hardcover