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EXECUTIVE POWER
Returning from a covert mission, Mitch Rapp was publicly hailed by the president for his role in the fight against terrorism. After years of working in the shadows, Rapp was caught in the media spotlight—and marked for death by virtually every terrorist in the world. Now a CIA advisor, Rapp is ready to battle terror far from the front lines. But when a Navy SEAL team in the Philippines is ambushed, all evidence points to a leak within the U.S. State Department. And a greater threat lurks—a ruthless assassin working for the most powerful men in the Middle East, who are bent on igniting a world war. With the world watching, Rapp must hold back the flames of Armageddon.
“[A] FAST-PACED SPY THRILLER.”
—People
“EXPLOSIVE.”
—Booklist
Includes an excerpt from Vince Flynn’s gripping new thriller,
Pursuit of honor
MEET THE AUTHORS, WATCH VIDEOS AND MORE AT
SimonandSchuster.com
THE SOURCE FOR READING GROUPS
#1 NEW YORK TIMES BESTSELLING AUTHOR VINCE FLYNN —“THE BEST PURE ADRENALINECHARGED ACTION WRITER OUT THERE TODAY” (THE PROVIDENCE JOURNAL, RI)—PUTS MITCH RAPP IN THE CROSSFIRE AS AMERICA’S ENEMIES TIGHTEN THEIR GRIP.
#1 NEW YORK TIMES BESTSELLING
AUTHOR
VINCE FLYNN
His explosive bestsellers featuring Mitch Rapp are
“FANTASTIC” (Glenn Beck) . . .
“JUST FABULOUS” (Rush Limbaugh) . . .
“SPECTACULAR AND EXCEPTIONALLY
TIMELY” (The Providence Journal, RI)
Praise for his electrifying thriller
EXECUTIVE POWER
“A globe-trotting geopolitical thriller that sizzles with inside information, military muscle, and CIA secrets.”
—Dan Brown, #1 bestselling author of The Da Vinci Code and The Lost Symbol
“Craftily plotted and crammed with violence. . . . Complex and interesting.”
—Star Tribune (Minneapolis, MN)
And national acclaim for the other Mitch Rapp bestsellers in Vince Flynn’s “exciting, Ludlum-like series” (Booklist)
PURSUIT OF HONOR PROTECT AND DEFEND ACT OF TREASON CONSENT TO KILL MEMORIAL DAY SEPARATION OF POWER THE THIRD OPTION TRANSFER OF POWER TERM LIMITS
“Thrillers do not get any better. . . .”
—Copley News Service
“A Rambo perfectly suited for the war on terror.”
—The Washington Times
“Mitch Rapp is back with a vengeance. . . . Simply stated, there’s nothing better than watching Mitch Rapp in fiction knock off the bad guys nobody seems able to get in fact. . . . A new era was born [on 9/11] and this is the best thriller to come out of it so far.”
—The Providence Journal (RI)
“If you start this well-written thriller, you’ll stick with it, probably past your bedtime.”
—St. Louis Post-Dispatch
“Flynn demonstrates that he truly understands the psyche of the enemy. . . . The book races toward a catastrophic, and ironic, conclusion. . . . Really scary, so realistic.”
—Bookreporter.com
“A captivating thriller. . . . An excellent expose about what manner of enemy we are fighting . . . and how the political correctness of the day . . . can not only impede the effort but invite the carnage to our shores.”
—Free Republic.com
“Taut writing and [a] plausible vision of the real work of the intelligence community.”
—Publishers Weekly
“CIA operative Mitch Rapp is back. And he’s as fearless as ever.”
—Saint Paul Pioneer Press (MN)
“Suspenseful . . . satisfying and totally unexpected.”
—The Roanoke Times (VA)
“Every American should read this book.”
—Bill O’Reilly
“[A] thriller with deadly aim. . . . Moves at the speed of a Stinger missile.”
—People
“Nonstop action [with a] surprising twist.”
—The Stuart News/Port St. Lucie News (FL)
“Flynn has done his homework on military and security matters.”
—The Washington Post
“A master of the political/espionage thriller.”
—Deseret News (Salt Lake City)
“Complex, chilling, and satisfying.”
—The Plain Dealer (Cleveland)
“Flynn keeps the action moving.”
—Houston Chronicle
“Ingenious.”
—The Florida Times-Union
“A page-turning read.”
—Larry King, USA Today
“A roller-coaster, edge-of-your-seat thriller. . . .”
—Star Tribune (Minneapolis, MN)
“Action-packed, violent, and politically intense. . . . Truly entertaining—even for those not particularly politically inclined.”
—The Gazette (Cedar Rapids, IA)
“The king of high-concept political intrigue.”
—Dan Brown
“You’ll be hooked. . . . Move over, Jack Ryan!”
—Portland Oregonian
ALSO BY VINCE FLYNN
Pursuit of Honor
Extreme Measures
Protect and Defend
Act of Treason
Consent to Kill
Memorial Day
Separation of Power
The Third Option
Transfer of Power
Term Limits
Atria Books
A Division of Simon & Schuster, Inc.
1230 Avenue of the Americas
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 © 2003 by Vince Flynn
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 Atria Books paperback edition June 2010
ATRIA and colophon are registered trademarks of Simon & Schuster, Inc.
The Simon & Schuster Speakers Bureau can bring authors to your live event. For more information or to book an event contact the Simon & Schuster Speakers Bureau at 1-866-248-3049 or visit our website at www.simonspeakers.com.
ISBN 978-1-4391-8965-8
ISBN 978-0-7434-7127-5 (ebook)
To Sloan Harris
CONTENTS
Acknowledgments
Prelude
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
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
Epilogue
Preview: Pursuit of Honor
About the Author
About Emily Bestler Books
About Atria Books
Ask Atria
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
To my lovely wife, Lysa, for once again keeping things together. To my editor, Emily Bestler, who came up with some great ideas that made this novel better than it would have been without her. To Sarah Branham for all of her hard work. To Jack Romanos and Carolyn Reidy of Simon & Schuster for all of their support. To Paolo Pepe and the art department at Atria Books for coming up with a great cover. To Larry Norton and the Simon & Schuster sales force for all of their tireless work. To Judith Curr of Atria Books and Louise Burke of Pocket Books, and all of the other folks who fall under the S&S umbrella who helped put this book together and get it out the door.
To my agent, Sloan Harris, and Katherine Cluverius at ICM for all of your hard work and candid advice. To Carl Pohlad for all of your generosity and friendship, and for providing me with a quiet place to write. To Larry Johnson for once again being an endless source of information. To Sean Stone for backstopping me on a few ideas. To Bill Harlow, the director of public affairs for the CIA, for once again patiently answering an endless stream of questions. To Paul Evancoe, a retired SEAL commander, who was kind enough to offer me his wisdom. To FBI Special Agent Brad Garrett, who has devoted an entire career to locking up the bad guys. And as always to all of my sources who wish to remain anonymous. Any mistakes in this novel are mine and mine alone.
PRELUDE
The sleek gray craft sliced through the warm water and humid night air of the Philippine Sea at twenty-five knots, its twin engines rumbling toward its destination with a guttural moan. The boat was in violation of international law and at least one treaty, but the men on board didn’t care. Technicalities, legalities and diplomacy were for other people to sort out, people who sat in comfortable leather chairs with Ivy League degrees matted and framed on their office walls. The men standing on the deck of the Mark V special operations craft were here to get a job done, and in their minds, it was a job that should have been taken care of months ago.
The low profile Mark V special operations craft was designed to sneak in under radar. It had been designed specifically for the United States Navy SEALs, and it was their choice of platform when running maritime insertions. It was eighty-two feet in length but the boat only drafted five feet when it was fully loaded and dead in the water. Instead of the standard screw it was propelled by two waterjets. All of this allowed the boat to maneuver very close to the beach with great precision.
Five men wearing black flight helmets and night vision goggles manned four .50-caliber machine guns and a 40mm grenade launcher. Eight other men dressed in jungle BDUs and floppy hats sat on the gunwales of the rubber combat raiding craft they would soon launch off the Mark V and went over their equipment for at least the tenth time. Their faces were smeared with warlike green and black camouflage paint, but their expressions were calm.
Lieutenant Jim Devolis looked down at his SEAL squad and watched them go through their last check. He’d observed them doing it countless times before and for some reason it always reminded him of baboons picking bugs from each other at the zoo. They meticulously examined their H harnesses to make sure every snap was secure and all grenades taped. The communications gear was checked and rechecked. Fresh batteries had been placed in everyone’s night vision goggles, and along with backup batteries the expensive optical devices were stowed in waterproof pouches attached to their H harnesses. Weapons were sandproofed with condoms secured over the muzzles and a bead of silicone sealant around the magazines and bolt covers. The only person wearing a rucksack tonight would be the squad’s medical corpsman, and Devolis sincerely hoped they wouldn’t be needing his expertise. The group was traveling light tonight. No MREs, only a couple of Power Bars for each man. The plan was to be in and out before the sun came up. Just the way the SEALs liked it.
The tension grew as they neared the demarcation point. Devolis was glad to see that the jaw-jacking had subsided. It was time to get serious. Turning his head to the right and down, his lips found the tube for his neoprene camel water pack and he sucked in a mouthful of fresh water. The men had been drinking all the water they could hold for two days. Hydration before an op in this part of the world was crucial. Even at night the temperature was still in the mid-eighties and the humidity wasn’t far behind. The only thing that was keeping them from sweating through their BDUs was the breeze created by the boat as it cruised at twenty-plus knots. Once they hit the beach, though, that would change. They had a two-mile hike ahead of them through the thick tropical jungle. Even with all the water they’d drunk in the last two days, each man on the team would probably lose five to ten pounds just hiking in and out.
A firm hand fell on Devolis’s shoulder. He turned to look at the captain of the boat.
“Two minutes out, Jim. Get your boys loaded up.”
Devolis nodded once and blinked, his white eyes glowing bright against the dark camouflage paint spread across his face. “Thanks, Pat.” The two men had practiced this drill hundreds of times back in Coronado, California, at the headquarters for Naval Special Warfare Group One.
“Don’t go wandering off on me now,” Devolis said with a wide grin.
The captain smiled in the manner of someone who’s confident in his professional ability. “If you call, I’ll be there guns a’blazin’.”
“That’s what I like to hear.” Devolis nodded and then turned to his men. With his forefinger pointed straight up he made a circular motion and the SEALs instantly got to their feet. A moment later the boat slowed to just under five knots.
The Mark V, in addition to being extremely fast, also came with a slanted aft deck that allowed it to launch and receive small craft without stopping. Without a word the men grabbed the sides of their black CRRC with the forty-horsepower outboard leading and walked down the aft ramp. The men stopped at the end of the ramp just shy of the Mark V’s frothy white wake and set the rubber boat on the nonskid deck, the lower unit of the outboard hanging in the water. A crew member from the Mark V held on to the rubber boat’s bow line and looked for each man to give him a thumbs-up. All eight men were low in the boat clutching their handholds. One by one they returned the sign.
The call came over the headset that the launch was a go and the crewman tossed the bow line into the boat. A second crewman joined the first and together they shoved the black rubber boat down the ramp and into the relatively warm water. The small rubber boat slowed instantly, the SEALs hanging as far to the aft as possible to prevent the bow from submar
ining. The boat rocked gently in the wake of the Mark V and no one moved a muscle. The men lay perfectly still, listening to the ominous moan of the Mark V as it sped away. Not one of them had any desire for the boat to return until they needed it. They eagerly looked forward to carrying out their mission. Unfortunately, they were unaware that thousands of miles away they’d already been fatally compromised by someone from their own country.
1
Anna Rielly drifted in and out of sleep, the warm sun enveloping her in a hazy dream. Her bronzed skin glistened with a mixture of sweat and sunscreen. A slight afternoon breeze floated in off the ocean. It had been the perfect week. Nothing but food, sun, sex and sleep. The ideal honeymoon. A small resort on a remote Caribbean island with their own secluded cabana, gravity pool and beach. Total privacy, no TV, no phones, no pagers, just the two of them.
She opened her eyes a touch and looked down at her wedding ring. She couldn’t help but smile. She was like a schoolgirl again. It was a perfect diamond set in an elegant platinum Tiffany setting. Not too big, not too small, just right. Most important, though, it was from the right man. The man of her dreams.
She was now officially Mrs. Anna Rapp. He had been a little surprised that she’d taken his name without so much as a word of debate. She was a feminist, after all, with definite liberal leanings, but she could also be an old-fashioned romantic. She could think of no other man she respected more. It was an honor to share his name and she wanted the world to know that they were now a family. In addition, she could also be pragmatic. She had no desire to one day see her grandchildren running around with four last names. Professionally though, she would keep her maiden name. As the White House correspondent for NBC she already had name recognition and a solid career. It was a good compromise and Mitch didn’t object.