by Tom Clancy
ALSO BY TOM CLANCY
FICTION
The Hunt for Red October
Red Storm Rising
Patriot Games
The Cardinal of the Kremlin
Clear and Present Danger
The Sum of All Fears
Without Remorse
Debt of Honor
Executive Orders
Rainbow Six
The Bear and the Dragon
Red Rabbit
The Teeth of the Tiger
Dead or Alive (with Grant Blackwood)
Against All Enemies (with Peter Telep)
Locked On (with Mark Greaney)
Threat Vector (with Mark Greaney)
Command Authority (with Mark Greaney)
Tom Clancy Support and Defend (by Mark Greaney)
Tom Clancy Full Force and Effect (by Mark Greaney)
Tom Clancy Under Fire (by Grant Blackwood)
Tom Clancy Commander in Chief (by Mark Greaney)
Tom Clancy Duty and Honor (by Grant Blackwood)
Tom Clancy True Faith and Allegiance (by Mark Greaney)
NONFICTION
Submarine: A Guided Tour Inside a Nuclear Warship
Armored Cav: A Guided Tour Inside an Armored Cavalry Regiment
Fighter Wing: A Guided Tour of an Air Force Combat Wing
Marine: A Guided Tour of a Marine Expeditionary Unit
Airborne: A Guided Tour of an Airborne Task Force
Carrier: A Guided Tour of an Aircraft Carrier
Into the Storm: A Study in Command
with General Fred Franks, Jr. (Ret.), and Tony Koltz
Every Man a Tiger: The Gulf War Air Campaign
with General Chuck Horner (Ret.) and Tony Koltz
Shadow Warriors: Inside the Special Forces
with General Carl Stiner (Ret.) and Tony Koltz
Battle Ready
with General Tony Zinni (Ret.) and Tony Koltz
G. P. PUTNAM’S SONS
Publishers Since 1838
An imprint of Penguin Random House LLC
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New York, New York 10014
Copyright © 2017 by The Estate of Thomas L. Clancy, Jr.; Rubicon, Inc.; Jack Ryan Enterprises, Ltd.; and Jack Ryan Limited Partnership
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Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Name: Maden, Mike, author.
Title: Tom Clancy point of contact / Mike Maden.
Other titles: Point of contact
Description: New York: G. P. Putnam’s Sons, 2017. | Series: A Jack Ryan Jr. novel; 4
Identifiers: LCCN 2017011063 (print) | LCCN 2017016352 (ebook) | ISBN 9780735215870 (epub) | ISBN 9780735215863 (hardcover)
Subjects: LCSH: Ryan, Jack, Jr. (Fictitious character)—Fiction. | Intelligence officers—United States—Fiction. | Terrorism—Prevention—Fiction. | BISAC: FICTION / Suspense. | FICTION / Action & Adventure. | GSAFD: Suspense fiction. | Spy stories.
Classification: LCC PS3613.A284327 (ebook) | LCC PS3613.A284327 T66 2017 (print) | DOC 813/.6—dc23
LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2017011063
p. cm.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Version_1
CONTENTS
Also by Tom Clancy
Title Page
Copyright
Principal Characters
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
Chapter 77
Chapter 78
Chapter 79
PRINCIPAL CHARACTERS
UNITED STATES GOVERNMENT
Jack Ryan: President of the United States
Scott Adler: Secretary of state
Mary Pat Foley: Director of national intelligence
Robert Burgess: Secretary of defense
Jay Canfield: Director of the Central Intelligence Agency
Arnold Van Damm: President Ryan’s chief of staff
THE CAMPUS
Gerry Hendley: Director of The Campus and Hendley Associates
John Clark: Director of operations
Domingo “Ding” Chavez: Senior operations officer
Dominic “Dom” Caruso: Operations officer
Jack Ryan, Jr.: Operations officer / senior analyst
Gavin Biery: Director of information technology
Adara Sherman: Operations officer
Bartosz “Midas” Jankowski: Operations officer
OTHER CHARACTERS
Paul Brown: Forensic accountant, Hendley Associates
Weston Rhodes: Ex–U.S. senator; board member, Marin Aerospace
Dr. Gordon Fairchild: Chief executive officer, Dalfan Technologies
Lian Fairchild: Head of security, Dalfan
Technologies (Gordon Fairchild’s daughter)
Yong Fairchild: Chief financial officer, Dalfan Technologies (Gordon Fairchild’s son)
Choi Ha-guk: Chairman, Democratic People’s Republic of Korea (DPRK)
Ri Kwan-ju: Deputy, General Administrative Services Directorate, DPRK
Tervel Zvezdev: Former member, Bulgarian Committee for State Security (CSS)
1
THE NORTH SEA
ALBUSKJELL OILFIELD, NORWAY
LATITUDE 56° NORTH, LONGITUDE 3° EAST
Freeze or drown.
He wasn’t sure which one would come first. It didn’t really matter. Either way, Jack Ryan, Jr., knew he was going to die in the next two minutes.
The F470 Zodiac rubber raiding craft pounded through the chopping waves beneath a storm-shrouded moon. Jack clutched the safety ropes in both fists to keep from getting thrown overboard. So did Adara Sherman, seated in front of him. She was getting it worse than he was. Every bounce threw more spray in their faces. Jack’s NVGs were spattered with ice. He couldn’t risk wiping off the night-vision lenses while he was riding this bucking bronco. But a half-mile ahead he could still barely make out the oil rig, lights off, its hulking frame a black shadow above the surging sea. That was fine by Jack. The darkness shielded their approach.
Jack’s teeth chattered and his mind clouded in the numbing cold. The freezing North Sea wind seemed to slice right through his five-millimeter wetsuit, and the stinging sleet felt like a broken beer bottle dragged across his exposed skin.
Despite their misery, Bartosz “Midas” Jankowski gunned the engine full throttle, his goggled eyes fixed on his GPS. They were supposed to run quiet, but they got off late. At least the howling wind swept away most of the noise from the baffled fifty-five-horsepower outboard motor in back.
The high winds also meant a helicopter landing was out of the question, and fast-roping out of it—Jack’s favorite new skill—even more so. All three of them were getting beat to hell, and time wasn’t their friend. If they didn’t reach the oil platform ladder in the next two minutes, they would fail the mission.
Assuming we survive for the next two minutes, Jack reminded himself.
And then there were the gunmen on the oil rig to deal with. But right now, armed killers seemed like the least of their problems.
As if on cue, a rogue wave swelled beneath the speeding craft, lifting the port side out of the water. Jack had shoved the toes of his boots through the safety rope along the rubber deck for purchase but felt himself pitching over the side anyway. Midas grabbed the drag handle of Jack’s vest with a sure hand at the last second, saving him from a headlong dive into the angry black sea.
Jack glanced to his right at the other Zodiac just a few yards away. In the green haze of his iced NVGs, he saw Dom Caruso flash him a quick “Okay?” with his gloved thumb. Jack thumbed him back. No time for chitchat. Ding Chavez drove Dom’s boat, his eyes fixed on the GPS locator.
The five special operators of The Campus were a close-knit team, the tip of the spear of the private “off-the-books” intelligence agency known only to President Ryan and a select few of his closest advisers. They were a small organization, but they punched hard—and far above their weight. This mission was proof of that. They did the jobs the CIA or other government intelligence services couldn’t do. Or wouldn’t.
Tonight was no exception.
Jack ran through the schematics of the oil rig platform in his mind again, particularly the control room and machine shop—his two targets. Gavin Biery’s webmaster magic had come through again. If it weren’t for him they’d be going in totally blind.
Gavin’s intel brief confirmed four hostages and six Green Army Faction eco-terrorists, armed and trained. But intel on a hostage-rescue operation like this was always sketchy. John Clark’s warning echoed in his head. “Stay frosty out there. You don’t know what you don’t know.”
True that.
“It’s time,” Ding whispered in everyone’s comms.
“Roger that,” Midas confirmed.
Jack watched Ding’s boat veer off at a sharp angle, its bulletproof Armorflate rubber skin shredding water into the turn. The small drilling platform had two access ladders. Jack’s boat would take the front; Ding and Dom would scramble up the back. On training runs with the Norwegian MJK (Marinejegerkommandoen) this past week, the weather had been cold but calm and they’d been able to get the timing down perfectly. But out here tonight on a raging North Sea, everything was up for grabs.
The mission had two goals: save the hostages and kill or capture the tangos. The Green Army Faction threatened not only to kill the captured oil workers but also to blow the rig, causing another catastrophic oil-spill disaster like Deepwater Horizon if their ransom demands weren’t met. American policy had always been to ignore ransom demands from terrorists. Meeting them inevitably led to more terror. Any student of history knew that. But some governments and corporations apparently didn’t read history.
Those were the people Green Army Faction targeted. Profitably.
But in this case, intel from an informant indicated that the group on the rig had no intention of surrendering after the money transfer. In their sick minds, they planned on “saving the earth” by poisoning the sea in order to fuel more public outrage at the oil industry. Killing the oil rig workers was a sacred bonus, like ISIS butchering captive infidels.
The decommissioned oil rig stood in an abandoned field dead center in the North Sea and in international waters. The Texas wildcatting team was developing new fracking-style technology to revive dead underwater wells. The GAF got wind of it and struck.
When it became clear that the hostages would be killed, the company’s desperate security chief called his friend John Clark, hoping Clark could mobilize some of his old Rainbow Six connections. But with only a four-hour window remaining, there weren’t any options.
Except one.
By sheer coincidence, John Clark had arranged for The Campus operators to train with MJK operators for exactly this kind of mission just two hours away. The Norwegian government wouldn’t allow the MJK to aid in the assault, but Clark called in a few chits and arranged for the Møvik—a Swedish-built CB90-class fast-assault craft—to drop the team off. After that, they were on their own.
The hastily devised plan was that both Campus teams would scale the ladders at the same time and make a simultaneous assault on three of the four buildings on the rig, taking out bad guys along the way. Jack’s team would take the front of the platform. Midas and Adara would go for the crew’s quarters, where the hostages were probably kept, while Jack cleared the control room, after which he’d drive toward the machine shop. On the back side of the rig, Ding’s two-man team would first assault the drilling and process modules, where the explosives were undoubtedly positioned. After clearing them, they would support the assault on the crew’s quarters or machine shop as needed. Each team would drive toward the center of the facility, herding any surviving GAF fighters into the middle and forcing them to surrender—or die.
At least, that was the plan.
They all agreed that clear and constant communication was key to their success. No telling what the real situation was on the rig or the precise number of either terrorists or hostages.
Their biggest challenge tonight beyond the hellish weather was their limited firepower. Each team member carried the same two suppressed weapons systems: short-barreled SIG Sauer MPX submachine guns and SIG Sauer P229 pistols, both in nine-millimeter. They couldn’t use larger calibers for fear of overpenetration, and explosives or even flash-bang grenades were out of the question in the highly flammable environment. Brains, brawn, and steady hands were their only force multipliers. Given the makeup of the team, Jack figured that was good enough.
The bow of the Zodiac dipped as Midas throttled down. That told Jack they were close. The rolling swells kept
the boat rocking violently, but not so badly that Jack couldn’t raise his hands to finally clear his NVGs. The boat was just a few yards away from the platform ladder now. He could barely make out the other Zodiac on the far side of the rig. The sleet turned to thick flakes of snow, reducing the value of the NVGs to nearly zero now.
“Ten seconds,” Midas whispered in the comms.
“Rog . . . Go . . . op,” Ding replied.
“Say . . .” Midas whispered.
No reply.
“What’s wrong?” Jack spoke into his comms.
He saw Midas’s lips move but didn’t hear anything in his earpiece.
Comms down!
As soon as Jack thought it, Midas was already switching to hand signals.
This was going to be an old-school op for sure.
The Zodiac slowed further. Adara reached down for the rope and its hard rubber grapple as Midas cut the engine. The boat was lifted by another high wave and crashed violently into one of the thick steel piers supporting the platform, but the inflated rubber bounced harmlessly off in the direction of the nearby ladder. Adara tossed the grapple and hit a ladder rung on the first try, then she and Jack pulled hard on the rope until the Zodiac was close enough to tie off and secure.
The problem now was the other boat. It was critical that both teams scale the ladders at the same time. Jack pulled his tactical light and flashed it twice in Ding’s direction. A moment later someone flashed back.
Jack signaled “good to go” to Midas and Adara. They both acknowledged and Adara took the lead, lifting one boot from the heaving deck to the top of the gunwale, then timing her next step onto the ladder with her other boot to the rising swell, pulling herself up with one hand as the boat lifted to its apogee, all in a singular motion of effortless grace. She instantly began the arduous hundred-foot climb.
Jack watched her in the flickering green glow of his goggles. From down here in the rocking boat it looked like Adara was climbing up into the blackened portal of a rusted steel hell.
The boat pitched down again as Midas took position next. At the top of the next swell Midas stepped up. He landed a heavy boot on a rung and pulled his broad frame up by his strong arms, then began his swift, wordless climb.