Table of Contents
Title Page
Dedication
Praise
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
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
EPILOGUE
FINAL TARGET
BANTAM BOOKS BY IRIS JOHANSEN
Copyright Page
Many thanks to Sergeant John Hall and Danny Henderson, Technical Rescue Experts with the Clayton County Fire Department, and Captain Timothy Dorn, Commander, Maricopa County Sheriff’s Office, for all their help.
My deep appreciation to Adela Morris, Shirley Hammond, and Bev Peabody of California Rescue Dog Association. Each was invaluable to my story with her rich store of information.
My gratitude to all search and rescue personnel who risk their lives so often to help those in need—and to all the Montys who work with search and rescue and offer their labor, love, and sometimes their lives without question.
PRAISE FOR THE BESTSELLING NOVELS OF IRIS JOHANSEN
THE SEARCH
“Thoroughly gripping and with a number of shocking plot twists . . . [Johansen] has packed all the right elements into this latest work: intriguing characters; a creepy crazy villain; a variety of exotic locations.”
—New York Post
“Johansen’s thrillers ooze enough testosterone to suggest she also descends from the house of Robert Ludlum. Johansen pushes the gender boundary in popular fiction, offering up that rarity: a woman’s novel for men.”
—Publishers Weekly
“Fans of Iris Johansen will pounce on The Search. And they’ll be rewarded.”
—USA Today
“A spine-tingler.”
—The Miami Herald
“Sabotage, dangerous secrets, and lots of dark action characterize Johansen’s enthralling thriller.”
—Abilene Reporter-News
THE KILLING GAME
“Johansen is at the top of her game . . . an enthralling cat-and-mouse game. . . . Perfect pacing . . . the suspense holds until the very end.”
—Publishers Weekly
“Most satisfying.”
—Daily News, New York
“Fast-paced, clever suspense novel that kept me intrigued to the end. In fact, I read it in one sitting.”
—The Roanoke Times
“An intense whodunit that will have you gasping for breath.”
—The Tennessean
“For a well-plotted thrill-a-minute read, you can’t go wrong with this one.”
—The Pilot, Southern Pines, NC
THE FACE OF DECEPTION
“One of her best . . . a fast-paced, nonstop, clever plot in which Johansen mixes political intrigue, murder, and suspense.”
—USA Today
“The book’s twists and turns manage to hold the reader hostage until the denouement, a sure crowd pleaser.”
—Publishers Weekly
“Johansen keeps her story moving at breakneck speed.”
—The Daily Sun, Chicago
“This is a great mystery with exciting twists and turns.”
—The Sunday Advocate Magazine, Baton Rouge
AND THEN YOU DIE
“Iris Johansen keeps the reader intrigued with complex characters and plenty of plot twists. The story moves so fast, you’ll be reading the epilogue before you notice.”
—People
“Fans of Mary Higgins Clark will enjoy Iris Johansen’s latest, a supercharged thriller. There’s peril, romance, and suspense aplenty as the good guys face the clock to stop the villains.”
—Alfred Hitchcock Mystery Magazine
“A well-crafted romance thriller.”
—Kirkus Reviews
“From the first page, the reader is pulled in to a realm of danger, intrigue, and suspense with a touch of romance and enough twists and turns to gladden the hearts of all of her readers.”
—Library Journal
LONG AFTER MIDNIGHT
“Iris Johansen is incomparable.”
—Tami Hoag,
New York Times bestselling author of Ashes to Ashes
“One of the most thrilling books I have curled up with for a long time.”
—Michael Palmer,
New York Times bestselling author of Silent Treatment and Critical Judgment
“You’ll be racing through to the last page.”
—Catherine Coulter,
New York Times bestselling author of The Maze
“Flesh-and-blood characters, crackling dialogue and lean, suspenseful plotting.”
—Publishers Weekly
“A lively, engrossing ride by a strong new voice in the romantic suspense genre.”
—Kirkus Reviews
“Excellent reading.”
—Booklist
THE UGLY DUCKLING
“A real knockout . . . [An] intense thriller . . . Bravo!”
—The Atlanta Journal
“[A] spectacular tale of revenge, betrayal, and survival.”
—Publishers Weekly
“Outstanding. A real page-turner. Many will add [Iris Johansen’s] name to their list of favorite authors.”
—Associated Press
“A well-executed story that deftly provides chilling suspense.”
—Library Journal
“Iris Johansen keeps readers turning pages to the book’s suspenseful conclusion.”
—San Antonio Express-News
“A successful hardcover debut. As Johansen quick-cuts back and forth between the good guys and the bad, in tried-and-true Sheldonesque style, the plot eventually delivers just deserts to all—thanks to inventive surprises.”
—Kirkus Reviews
“A fascinating, compelling drama with myriad strands of intrigue swirling around a heroine who will let nothing stop her in her quest for vengeance.”
—Linda Howard
“A fabulous, tension-packed romantic suspense novel with seething emotions and deadly secrets that lure the reader into a fascinating web of intricate design.”
—Kay Hooper
“In Johansen’s hands, the romantic suspense genre is done a good turn.”
—Booklist
1
Barat, Turkey
June 11
“Get out of there, Sarah,” Boyd yelled from outside the house. “That wall is going to tumble any minute.”
“Monty’s found something.” Sarah carefully moved over to the pile of rubble where the golden retriever was standing. “Be still, boy. Be very still.”
Child?
“How do I know?” Monty always hoped it would be a child. He loved kids and all these lost and hurt children nearly killed him. They nearly killed her too, Sarah thought wearily. Finding the children and the old people was always the most painful. So few survived these catastrophes. The earth trembled and the walls fell and life was snuffed out as if it had never been.
Out.
“You’re sure?”
Out.
“Okay.” She absently patted Monty’s head as she gazed at the rubble. The second story of the small house had caved in, and chances of anyone being alive beneath the wreckage were minimal. She could hear no groans or weeping. It wouldn’t be responsible of her to bring anyone else from the search and rescue team into the building. She should get out herself.
Child?
What the hell? Stop wasting time. She knew she wasn’t going to leave until she investigated more closely. She reached for a stool a
nd tossed it aside. “Go to Boyd, Monty.”
The retriever sat down and looked at her.
“I keep telling you that you’re supposed to be a professional. That means you obey orders, dammit.”
Wait.
She tossed a cushion to one side and tugged at the easy chair. Jesus, it was heavy. “You can’t help me now.”
Wait.
“Get out of there, Sarah,” Boyd yelled. “That’s an order. It’s been four days. You know you probably won’t find anyone alive.”
“We found that man in Tegucigalpa alive after twelve days. Call Monty, will you, Boyd?”
“Monty!”
Monty didn’t move. She hadn’t thought he would, but there was always a chance. “Stupid dog.”
Wait.
“If you’re going to stay there, I’m coming in to help you,” Boyd said.
“No, I’ll be out in a minute.” Sarah glanced warily at the south wall, then tugged at the mattress until she got it to one side. “I’m just looking around.”
“I’ll give you three minutes.”
Three minutes.
She pulled frantically at the carved headboard.
Monty whined.
“Shh.” She finally heaved the headboard to one side.
And then she saw the hand.
Such a small, delicate hand, clutching a rosary . . .
“A survivor?” Boyd asked as Sarah walked out of the house. “Do we need to send in a team?”
She numbly shook her head. “Dead. A teenage girl. Two days, maybe. Don’t risk anyone’s neck. Just mark the site.” She snapped on Monty’s leash. “I’m going back to the trailer. I’ve got to get Monty out of here. You know how upset he gets. I’ll be back in a couple of hours.”
“Yeah, it’s only your dog that’s upset.” Boyd’s tone dripped sarcasm. “That’s why you’re shaking like a leaf.”
“I’m fine.”
“I don’t want to see you take a step out of that trailer until tomorrow morning. You’ve gone without sleep for thirty-six hours. You know exhausted workers are a hazard to themselves and the people they’re trying to help. You were incredibly stupid to run that risk. You’re usually smarter than that.”
“Monty was sure there was someone—” Why was she arguing? He was right. The only way to stay alive in situations like this was to stick to the rules and not act on impulse. She should have gone by the book. “I’m sorry, Boyd.”
“You should be.” He scowled. “You’re one of my best people, and I won’t have you thrown off the team because you’re thinking with your heart instead of your head. You endangered not only yourself but your dog. What would you have done if that wall had fallen and killed Monty?”
“It wouldn’t have killed Monty. I’d have thrown myself on top of him and let you dig the wall off me.” She smiled faintly. “I know who’s important around here.”
“Very funny.” He shook his head. “Except you’re not joking.”
“No.” She rubbed her eyes. “She had a rosary in her hand, Boyd. She must have grabbed it when the quake started. But it didn’t help her, did it?”
“I guess not.”
“She couldn’t have been over sixteen, and she was pregnant.”
“Shit.”
“Yeah.” She gently tugged on Monty’s leash. “We’ll be back in a little while.”
“You’re not listening. I’m in charge of this search, Sarah. I want you to rest. We’ve probably found all the live ones. I’m expecting the order to pull out tomorrow. The Russian team can finish searching for the dead.”
“All the more reason to work harder until the order comes. None of the Russians’ dogs has Monty’s nose. You know he’s incredible.”
“You’re not so bad yourself. Do you know the other members of the team are making bets on whether or not you can actually read that dog’s mind?”
“That’s pretty dumb. They’re all close to their own dogs. They know that when you live with an animal, you get to learn how to read them.”
“Not like you.”
“Why are we talking about this? The important thing is Monty is unique. He’s found survivors before when everyone had given up hope. He may find more today.”
“It’s not likely.”
She walked away.
“I mean it, Sarah.”
She glanced back over her shoulder. “And how long has it been since you slept, Boyd?”
“That’s none of your damn business.”
“Do as I say and not as I do? I’ll see you in a couple of hours.” She could hear him swearing behind her as she picked her way through the rubble toward the line of mobile homes at the bottom of the hill. Boyd Medford was a good guy, a fine team leader, and everything he said made sense. But there were times when she couldn’t be sensible. Too many dead. Too few survivors. Oh, God, too many bodies . . .
The rosary . . .
Did that poor girl have time to pray for her own life and the life of her child before she had been crushed? Probably not. Earthquakes took only a heartbeat to destroy. Maybe she should hope that death had come quickly and the girl had not suffered.
Monty pressed against her legs. Sad.
“Me too.” She opened the door of the mobile home for Monty. “It happens. Maybe next time it won’t be that way.”
Sad.
She filled up Monty’s water dish. “Drink, boy.”
Sad. He lay down in front of the metal dish.
He’d drink soon, but she’d wait for an hour or two before she tried to feed him. He was too upset to eat. He never got used to finding the dead.
Neither did she.
She sat down on the floor beside Monty and put her arms around him. “It will be okay,” she whispered. “Maybe next time we’ll find a little boy alive like we did yesterday.” Was it yesterday? The days blurred together when they were on a search. “Remember the child, Monty?”
Child.
“He’s alive because of you. That’s why we have to go on. Even if it hurts.” Jesus, it did hurt. It hurt seeing Monty this upset. It hurt remembering that girl clutching the rosary. It hurt knowing there would probably not be another person found alive.
But probably was not certainly. There was always hope as long as you kept trying.
She closed her eyes. She was tired and all her muscles ached. So what? She’d have time for a long rest later. All she needed right now was a few hours of sleep and she’d be ready to go on. “Come on, let’s take a nap.” She stretched out beside the retriever. “Then we’ll go see if we can find anyone else alive in this hell-hole.”
Monty was whining softly as he put his head on his paws.
“Shh.” She buried her face in his fur. “It’s okay.” It wasn’t okay. Death was never okay. “We’re together. We’re doing our job. We just have to get through the next few days. Then we’ll be back at the ranch.” She began stroking his head. “You’ll like that, won’t you?”
Sad.
He was hurting, but it wasn’t as bad as usual. Sometimes isolated cases were worse for him. It wasn’t that he became calloused to the massive loss of life he encountered in major disasters. It was just that they were working so constantly, the reaction was delayed. He’d be ready to go again in a few hours.
But would she?
She’d be fine. Just as she’d told Boyd. The last few days were always the worst. Hope was dimming, desperation growing, and the sadness lay in your heart and mind until you thought you couldn’t bear it.
But she always did bear it. You had to bear it because there was always a chance someone was out there waiting. Someone who would be lost if she and Monty didn’t find her.
Monty rolled over and lay on his side. Sleep.
“Yes, that’s what we should do.” Sleep, friend, and so will I. Let the memory of rosaries and unborn children fade away. Let death go. Let hope come back. “Just a little nap . . .”
Santo Camaro, Colombia
June 12
“How many de
ad?” Logan asked.
“Four.” Castleton’s lips tightened grimly. “And two men are in the local hospital in serious condition. Can we leave now? The stench of this place makes me want to throw up. I feel guilty as hell. I’m the one who hired Bassett for this job. I liked him.”
“In a minute.” Logan’s gaze wandered around the scorched ruins that had once been a state-of-the-art facility. It had been only three days, but the jungle was already reclaiming its own. Grass sprouted among the fallen timbers, vines reached toward the site in a macabre embrace from nearby trees. “Were you able to recover any of Bassett’s work?”
“No.”
Logan looked down at the dark red carnelian scarab in his hand. “And Rudzak sent this to me this morning?”
“I guess it was Rudzak. It was on my doorstep with your name on it.”
“It was Rudzak.”
Castleton’s gaze shifted from the scarab to Logan’s face. “Bassett has a wife and kid. What are you going to tell them?”
“Nothing.”
“What do you mean, nothing? You have to tell them what happened to Bassett.”
“And what am I supposed to tell them? We don’t know what happened to him. Not yet.” He turned away and headed back toward the jeep.
“Rudzak’s going to kill him,” Castleton said, following Logan.
“Maybe.”
“You know it.”
“I think he’ll try to make a deal first.”
“Ransom?”
“Possibly. He wants something, or he wouldn’t have bothered to take Bassett.”
“And you’re going to deal with that bastard? After what he did to your people?”
“I’ll deal with the devil himself if it will get me what I want.”
It was the answer Castleton expected. John Logan had not gotten to be one of the foremost economic forces in the world by avoiding confrontation. He had made billions with his computer company and other enterprises before he’d reached forty.
And he had risked the lives of several scientists to realize the gigantic rewards this project offered. Some people would say that no man with a conscience would have set up this facility when he knew what the consequences might—
“Say it.” Logan was staring at him. “Let it out.”
“You shouldn’t have done it.”
“Everyone in this facility chose to be here. I never lied to them about what they were facing. They believed it was worth it.”