The Survivor (A Mitch Rapp Novel, Band 12) - Hardcover

Buch 14 von 25: Mitch Rapp

Flynn, Vince; Mills, Kyle

 
9781476783451: The Survivor (A Mitch Rapp Novel, Band 12)
Hardcover
ISBN 10: 1476783454 ISBN 13: 9781476783451
Verlag: Atria/Emily Bestler Books, 2015

Inhaltsangabe

A blistering novel that picks up where The Last Man left off, The Survivor is a no-holds-barred race to save America…and Mitch Rapp’s finest battle.

When Joe “Rick” Rickman, a former golden boy of the CIA, steals a massive amount of the Agency’s most classified documents in an elaborately masterminded betrayal of his country, CIA director Irene Kennedy has no choice but to send her most dangerous weapon after him: elite covert operative Mitch Rapp.

Rapp quickly dispatches the traitor, but Rickman proves to be a deadly threat to America even from beyond the grave. Eliminating Rickman didn’t solve all of the CIA’s problems—in fact, mysterious tip-offs are appearing all over the world, linking to the potentially devastating data that Rickman managed to store somewhere only he knew.

It’s a deadly race to the finish as both the Pakistanis and the Americans search desperately for Rickman’s accomplices, and for the confidential documents they are slowly leaking to the world. To save his country from being held hostage to a country set on becoming the world’s newest nuclear superpower, Mitch Rapp must outrun, outthink, and outgun his deadliest enemies yet.

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Über die Autorin bzw. den Autor

#1 New York Times bestselling author Vince Flynn (1966–2013) created one of contemporary fiction’s most popular heroes: CIA counterterrorist agent Mitch Rapp, featured in thirteen of Flynn’s acclaimed political thrillers. All of his novels are New York Times bestsellers, including his stand-alone debut novel, Term Limits. The Mitch Rapp story begins with American Assassin, followed by Kill Shot, Transfer of Power, The Third Option, Separation of Power, Executive Power, Memorial Day, Consent to Kill, Act of Treason, Protect and Defend, Extreme Measures, Pursuit of Honor, The Last Man, The Survivor, Order to Kill, Enemy of the State, and Red War. American Assassin was released as a major film in 2017.

Kyle Mills is the #1 New York Times bestselling author of nineteen political thrillers, including Red War for Vince Flynn and The Patriot Attack for Robert Ludlum. He initially found inspiration from his father, the former director of Interpol, and still draws on his contacts in the intelligence community to give his books such realism. Avid outdoor athletes, he and his wife have lived in Jackson Hole, Wyoming, for over twenty years. Visit his website at KyleMills.com.

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PRELUDE
 
Istanbul, Turkey
 
Scott Coleman turned away from the color monitor and glanced right. The panel van seemed almost like a toy by American standards, barely large enough to get him and his surveillance gear in the back. Even tighter was the front seat, where Joe Maslick’s two-hundred-and-twenty-pound frame was wedged behind the wheel. Raindrops were collecting on the windshield, blurring ancient row houses and a street narrow enough that passing required having two wheels on the sidewalk.
After days on the move in a city where good driving etiquette meant clipping fewer than three people a week, they’d resigned themselves to the impossibility of staying with a pedestrian target. Since then, they’d been bouncing from illegal parking space to illegal parking space trying to maximize their surveillance camera’s signal strength. No small feat in a city constructed almost entirely of stone.
“How you doing up there, Joe?”
“Fine.”
It was a lie, of course. But it was the expected lie.
In fact, the former Delta soldier had recently been shot in a Kabul ambush that had left twenty-one Afghan cops dead, put Mitch Rapp way too close to an explosion of his own making, and forced an agonizing alliance with Louis Gould, the assassin who had killed Rapp’s family.
Maslick should have been at home rehabbing his shoulder, but he’d insisted on being included on this op. It was a tough call, but Coleman had decided to bring him along. The docs were concerned about permanent nerve damage, but sometimes it was better to get back in the saddle as soon as possible. Before doubt started to creep in.
“Glad to hear you’re having such a good time. Right now our feed looks solid, moving north on a pretty open street. We should be able to stay here for a little while, but be ready to move.”
“Right.”
Maslick’s one-word answers had nothing to do with what must have been the considerable pain in his shoulder. He’d always resisted stringing more than two or three together unless it was absolutely necessary.
Coleman refocused his attention on the screen secured to the side of the van. The image rocked wildly as the purse the camera was hidden in swung from its owner’s hand. Sky. A feral cat lounging on a Dumpster. Thick ankles overflowing a pair of sensible shoes.
The legs and Hush Puppies belonged to Bebe Kincaid, a plump, grey-haired woman who was the most unlikely employee of his company, SEAL Demolition and Salvage. She’d spent much of her life as a surveillance expert at the FBI based on two considerable natural gifts. First, her bland features, formless figure, and slightly bowed shuffle made her as anonymous as a fire hydrant. But more importantly, she had a photographic memory.
 It was a label that was often thrown around to describe people who didn’t forget much, but Bebe was the rare real thing. In fact, it was her flawless memory that had gotten her eased into early retirement by the FBI’s psychologists. The older she got, the more she struggled to differentiate between things that had happened yesterday and things that had happened years—even decades—ago. To her, the memories were all equally vivid. Perhaps not Bureau material anymore, but Mitch Rapp had been on the phone to her before she’d even finished cleaning out her desk.
Coleman had to admit that he’d been a little irritated when a woman who reminded him of his mother showed up at his company’s purposely nondescript door to thank him not only for the job but for the generous mental health benefits. As usual, though, Rapp had been right. Bebe was worth her considerable weight in gold.
Coleman glanced at a second screen that displayed a satellite image of Istanbul with a single blue dot representing Bebe’s position. It suddenly took a hard left and started down a set of stairs toward the waterfront. “Okay, Joe. She’s turned east and we’re going to lose her. Can we close in?”
“Old lady gets around,” Maslick said, grudging respect audible beneath his irritation at having to wade back into city traffic.
Coleman smiled as they pulled away from the curb. His men were all former special forces, primarily SEALs, Delta, and Recon marines. With the right set of support hose, though, he wasn’t sure that Bebe couldn’t run them all into the ground.
He wedged a foot against his state-of-the-art electronics to keep them from shifting as the van struggled up a rain slickened hill. On the main monitor Bebe’s camera swept briefly across the man they were following. He wasn’t much to look at. Five foot eight, a slight Asian tilt to his features, and a mediocre suit pulled closed at the front against the rain. In reality, though, Vasily Zhutov was the CIA’s highest-placed mole in Russia’s Foreign Intelligence Service. Code-named Sitting Bull, he was among the agency’s most critical and hard-won assets.
The problem was that no one was sure if his identity was still a secret. Worse, it wasn’t just his cover that had potentially been blown: it was the cover of virtually every CIA asset recruited in the last quarter century. Teams like Coleman’s had been deployed across the globe—spread way too thin and able to do little more than make educated guesses as to who might be targeted.
And it was all because of one man: the late Joseph “Rick” Rickman.
Rickman had been stationed in Jalalabad for the last eight years and had pretty much run the CIA’s side of the war in Afghanistan. Word was that he had an IQ just north of two hundred, and based on Coleman’s interactions with the man, he had no reason to dispute that figure.
The better part of a billion dollars had flowed through Rickman’s hands over the years, funding weapons purchases and construction projects, bribing local politicians, and God knew what else. Rick had a relationship with virtually every player in the country and had an uncanny ability to track the complex forces tearing the region apart. If asked about the economic effect of the heroin trade on the insurgency, he could lecture like a Harvard PhD. Conversely, asked about some dispute between two mountain villages no one had ever heard of, he’d speak with equal authority about how it had all started with an arranged marriage a hundred and forty years ago. The only person at the Agency who could even hope to keep up with what was going on in that man’s head was Irene Kennedy, and she had too many other things on her plate to try.
Unfortunately, the house of cards Rickman had built all came crashing down last month when the man completely lost his mind. Whether it was the pressure of the job, family problems, or just the chaos and hopelessness of Afghanistan, no one knew. What they did know, though, was that Rickman had hatched a plot with Akhtar Durrani, the deputy general of Pakistan’s ISI, to betray the CIA and the people he’d fought beside for his entire career.
Rickman had killed his bodyguards and faked his own kidnapping, going so far as to release a gut-wrenching video of him being tortured by two men posing as Muslim extremists. It had been like setting off a bomb in the U.S. intelligence community. With his incredible intellect and decades of CIA ops under his belt, there was no way for anyone to know what information he was privy to and how much of it he’d give up when the hot pokers came out. Panic ensued, with countless undercover assets requesting extraction, demanding asylum at U.S. embassies, and generally drawing a lot of unwanted attention to America’s spy network.
During his faked interrogation, Rickman had blurted out a number of names, but one in...

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Verlag
Atria/Emily Bestler Books
Erscheinungsdatum
2015
Sprache
Englisch
ISBN 10 
1476783454
ISBN 13 
9781476783451
Einband
Gebundene Ausgabe
Anzahl der Seiten
400
Kontakt zum Hersteller
Nicht verfügbar
Verantwortliche Person
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