by Marcus Sakey
“I don’t care about politics right now, Marla. One of my cities is on fire. Four hundred thousand people live in Cleveland. Is this part of a larger attack?”
“We don’t know, sir.”
“Why not?”
“It’s chaos down there, Mr. President. I’m coordinating with the FBI and the DAR; we’re hoping to have a better picture in an hour—”
“An hour?”
Keevers and Leahy exchanged a glance. The secretary of defense said, “Sir, it’s time to take aggressive action. We should assume that this is the first step in an attack, maybe a national one.”
The president said nothing.
“Sir, we need to act.”
Clay stared at the screen.
“Mr. President?”
And as Nick Cooper stood beside a glowing Christmas tree in the Oval Office of the White House, watching the world begin to fall apart, he found himself thinking of something his mentor had said to him three months ago—just before Cooper threw him off a twelve-story building.
“Sir? What do you want us to do?”
His one time mentor had said, If you do this, the world will burn.
“Mr. President?”
The monitor had shifted back to a wide aerial view. The fire had spread, and thick smoke blotted out half the city.
“Sir?”
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
There’s an abiding myth that books are written solo, an ink-fingered dreamer stuck in a basement making it all up. The dreamer and the basement are both accurate, but I certainly didn’t do it alone. My deepest thanks to:
Scott Miller, agent, buddy, and brother-in-arms, who not only didn’t panic at my crazy left turn, but told me to write it, stat. Thanks also to the stellar team at Creative Artists, especially Jon Cassir, Matthew Snyder, and Rosi Bilow, who put the lie to all the jokes about Hollywood.
Reema Al-Zaben, Andy Bartlett, Jacque Ben-Zekry, Grace Doyle, Daphne Durham, Justin Golenbock, Danielle Marshall, and the rest of the Thomas & Mercer crew, who are passionate booklovers building a brave new world.
I’m fortunate to have two creative partners. The first is Sean Chercover, collaborator and heterosexual life mate, whose fingerprints are all over this book. Anything you didn’t like was probably his fault. The second is Blake Crouch, who, at the summit of a fourteen-thousand-foot peak, helped me turn the slenderest fragment of a notion into a full-blown story…and then gave me the title. Drinks are on me, boys.
All the folks who read the book early and pointed out where it sucked, especially Michael Cook, Alison Dasho, and Darwyn Jones.
Jeroen ten Berge, the visionary behind the cover design.
Megan Beatie and Dana Kaye, gifted publicists and all-around get-er-done-rs.
Dale Rosenthal of the University of Illinois at Chicago, who, over Guinness, disassembled the global financial marketplace and then redesigned it abnorm-proof.
Kevin Anthony, who built the beautiful desk I’ll be writing on for the rest of my life.
The crime-fiction community: booksellers and librarians, bloggers and reviewers, writers and publicists, but most especially the readers.
My brother, Matt, who devoured the book, carefully propped up my ego, then tore apart everything that didn’t work. You’re the man.
Sally and Anthony Sakey, better known as Mom and Dad, who gave me everything.
And finally, the two loves of my life: my wife, g.g., and our daughter, Jocelyn. Nothing would mean anything without you.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
PHOTOGRAPH BY JAY FRANCO
Marcus Sakey is the best-selling author of six novels, several of which are in development as films. His fiction has been nominated for or won an Anthony, Barry, Macavity, Strand Critic’s Circle, Readers’ Choice, Crimespree, Dilys, Crime Shot, Indie Lit, Romantic Times, and ITW Thriller Award. He lives in Chicago with his wife and daughter. Visit his website at MarcusSakey.com, or follow him on Facebook and Twitter, where he posts under the clever handle @MarcusSakey.