3 Great Thrillers

by Churton, Alex; Churton, Toby; Locke, John; Lustbader, Eric van; van Lustbader, Eric

  “Who’s that I hear whistling?” he said now.

  “My mom. She arrived yesterday.”

  Sharon’s mother had never liked him. She hadn’t approved of the marriage, telling her daughter that it would end in tears, which of course it had. That triumph of hers was in no way mitigated by Sharon having returned to him. Their daughter—her granddaughter— Emma was dead, killed at age twenty in a car accident. As far as Sharon’s mother was concerned it had all ended in tears, no matter what happened from now on.

  “Jack, when are you coming home?”

  “You asked me that yesterday and the day before.”

  “And yesterday and the day before you said you’d find out.” She made that noise where her tongue struck the roof of her mouth. “Jack, what’s the matter with you? Don’t you want to come home?”

  The subject, he suspected, would not be coming up so insistently if her mother hadn’t arrived with all her pernicious baggage. “I told you when I signed on with Edward—”

  “My mother said you never should have taken that job, and I have to say that I agree with her.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “If you cared about me, if you cared about repairing the damage to our marriage, you would have found a job closer to home.”

  “Sharon, this is starting to feel like déjà vu all over again. I can’t—”

  “That’s your answer to everything serious, isn’t it, making jokes. Well, I can’t take that anymore, Jack.”

  Silence on the line. He didn’t know what to say or, rather, didn’t want to say something he’d regret. It was strange how intimate conversations became attenuated—how emotions seemed muted, almost murky—when transmitted over long distances, as if the phones themselves were having the conversation. Perhaps it was his alien surroundings—his present, and therefore his priorities so different from her familiar ones.

  “You didn’t answer my question.” Her voice sounded thick, as if during the interim she’d been crying.

  “I don’t know. Something’s come up.”

  “Something’s always coming up.” Her voice had sharpened like a knife at the strop. “But that’s precisely what you want, isn’t it? You—”

  The rest of her acerbic response was drowned out by a sharp, insistent rapping on the door he had come to associate with the president’s Secret Service staff.

  He took the cell away from his ear and ducked back into the main room, which was at once anonymous and oppressive, a hallmark of what passed for modern Russian decor. It was on the top floor of the vast H-shaped hotel, whose somewhat faded hallways reminded Jack of The Shining. The entire floor was allocated to President Carson, his family, and his entourage.

  Dick Bridges, the head of Carson’s Secret Service detail, filled the doorway. He made no move to step inside, but silently mouthed POTUS, the Secret Service acronym for the President of the United States. Jack nodded, held up a forefinger in countersign: a moment. Now, Bridges mouthed, and Jack stepped back into the bathroom where the water was still running.

  “Sharon, Edward needs me.”

  “Did you hear a word I said?”

  He was in no mood for her mother-instigated bullshit. “I’ve got to go.”

  “Jack—”

  He killed the connection. Back in the room, he stepped into his shoes and, without bothering to tie his laces, went out into the hallway. President Carson, flanked by two agents, was standing in front of the metal fire door that led to the stairwell, which had been blocked off to the floor below. They had the aspect of men who had been talking together for some time: Their heads were tilted toward one another, their mouths were half open, and familiar glances were being exchanged. All of these small observations told Jack that something of significance had arisen at this late hour.

  Therefore, he was on high alert when Bridges opened the fire door and they all trooped onto the unpainted concrete landing. There was an unfamiliar mineral odor, as sharp as it was unpleasant, but at least there were no electronic eavesdroppers.

  “Jack, Lloyd Berns died in Capri four days ago,” the president said without preamble. Lloyd Berns was Carson’s minority whip in the Senate and, as such, his death was a serious blow to the president’s ability to ram through legislation crucial to the new administration.

  Now Jack understood why Carson and his bodyguards had been in conference. “What happened?”

  “An accident. Hit and run.”

  “What was Berns doing in Capri and why did it take four days to find out he died?”

  Carson sighed. “We’re not sure, which is the problem. He was supposed to be on a fact-finding tour in Ukraine, up until ten days ago, that is. Then he disappeared. Best guess from our intelligence boys: He was taking time off from a failing marriage or—and this isn’t unrelated—in Capri with someone else. He had no ID on him and everything grinds slowly in Capri. Three days passed before it occurred to someone in authority that he might be American, so finally a rep from the consulate was contacted and dispatched, and so on and so forth.” He rubbed his hands together briskly. “Be that as it may, I’ve got to get back to D.C. to straighten out the political mess.”

  Jack nodded. “I’ll get packed right away.”

  The president shook his head. “I’m wondering if you could stay with my wife and Alli. You know how important this accord with Yukin is. Once it’s signed, Russia will no longer aid Iran’s nuclear program, and American security will reach a new level. This is particularly imperative now because our armed forces are dangerously overextended, exhausted to the edge of endurance, and opening the current wars in Afghanistan, Iraq, and Somalia on yet another front would be disastrous. If my family leaves with me it could damage the fragile detente I’ve managed to form with President Yukin. I can’t have that; he and I are only days away from finalizing and signing the accord, and my entire first year as president hinges on the signing.”

  The president seemed abruptly older, as if he’d aged five years since Jack last saw him, fifty minutes ago.

  “And, Jack, on a private and very unpleasant note, Alli has begun to act out again—she’s unnaturally willful, contrary, sometimes it seems to me irrational.” His eyes seemed to be speaking another language entirely. “You’re the only one that can make her see reason.”

  Alli had been psychologically traumatized. Her abduction was bad enough, but the man who had kidnapped her had also brainwashed her. Ever since Jack had brought her home, a team of psychologists had been working with her. But, more than that, she’d wanted Jack near her as much as was possible. The two of them had forged a close relationship and now, like her father, Alli trusted Jack over and above anyone else in the world, including her parents, with whom she’d always had a difficult and not altogether pleasant relationship.

  Jack did, of course, understand. So even though he wanted to return to Washington to advise his old friend or, failing that, to be sent to Capri to find out the details of Lloyd Berns’s death, he did not argue with Carson’s suggestion.

  “All right,” he said.

  The president nodded, and the Secret Service contingent left them alone in the putrid stairwell. It was at this point that Jack realized every detail of this clandestine meeting had been meticulously planned.

  When the two men were alone, Carson took a step toward Jack and handed him a slip of paper. “This is a copy of Berns’s itinerary in Ukraine. The cities I’ve marked are off the official itinerary, but it’s Kiev that was his last stop. Also, remember this name: K. Rochev. Rochev was the last man he saw or was due to see before he abruptly left Ukraine for Capri.”

  Jack looked at him. “In other words, you have no idea what the hell he was doing in Kiev.”

  Carson nodded. His concern was evident in his eyes, but he said nothing more.

  All at once, Jack understood that the babysitting assignment was for the Secret Service personnel’s benefit. This was the real assignment. He smiled. It was part of Carson’s genius to get what he wanted eith
er by suggestion or by leading the other person to the conclusion he desired.

  Jack did not look at the writing, which, because of his dyslexia, he’d have to concentrate on fully in order to read. “I guess I’m going to Ukraine to find out what Berns was doing and why he left.”

  “I think that’s the best idea. There’s a private jet with diplomatic privileges waiting for you at Sheremetyevo, but you can wait until tomorrow morning, if you wish.” Carson squeezed Jack’s shoulder. “I appreciate this.”

  “Part of my job description.” Jack frowned. “Edward, do you suspect something?”

  Carson shook his head. “Call it caution or paranoia, the choice is yours. In any event, as Dennis Paull has detailed in his most recent security briefing, my enemies from the previous administration are still powerful, and all of them have very long memories, especially when it comes to revenge. They fought like wild dogs against my nomination and, when I won it, they tried everything they could think of to undermine my candidacy. That they’ve made conciliatory statements in the press doesn’t fool me for a minute. They’re after my blood, and it seems damn lucky for them that Berns is dead, because they know better than anyone that without him I’m going to have the devil’s own time with the Democratic-led Congress.”

  Jack did not say that killing Carson’s right-hand man was an extreme way of crippling him, because he’d had firsthand experience with people within the previous administration. He knew what they were capable of and that their thinking did not exclude murder. They’d arranged for Alli to be kidnapped, had almost succeeded in an attack on Carson at the inauguration, and while the perpetrators were either dead or behind bars, the people who had calculatedly planned the attack remained safe to this day behind veils of plausible deniability that even Carson with all his might and power couldn’t penetrate.

  The president’s grip on Jack’s shoulder tightened. “Jack, I won’t bullshit you, this could be a wild-goose chase, but if it’s not, if Berns was killed or if he was involved in something that could turn into a scandal, you’re the only one I can trust, you’re my friend and you’re apolitical. I want you on this until you can tell me whether I’m right or wrong.” His eyes grew dark, indicating that he was deeply troubled. “And one other thing. No one is to know what you’re up to, not even Dick.”

  “You don’t trust Bridges?”

  “I trust you, Jack,” Carson said. “That’s the beginning and the end of it.”

  LAST SNOW... COMING SOON

  Acknowledgments

  From the very first day I started writing fiction, I’ve been influenced by many sources, but none as telling or important as Colin Wilson’s brilliant book The Outsider.

  As an Outsider myself, I never really understood who I was or how I fit in (or didn’t!) until I read The Outsider.

  For this, and especially for all the help and inspiration his body of work provided while mapping and unraveling some of the characters in First Daughter, a heartfelt thank-you to Colin Wilson.

  About this Book

  When an accident takes the life of his daughter, Emma, ATF agent Jack McClure blames himself, numbing the pain by submerging himself in work. Then he receives a call from his old friend Edward Carson.

  Carson is just weeks from taking the reins as President of the United States when his daughter, Alli, is kidnapped. Because Emma McClure was Alli's best friend, Carson turns to Jack, the one man he can trust to go to any lengths to find his daughter and bring her home safely.

  Reviews

  ‘Rarely have I read a book that grabs you so fast in the opening scene, then keeps up the pace until the very last page. Goodbye, sleep; hello, First Daughter.’

  Jeffery Deaver

  ‘I’ve long been a fan of Eric Van Lustbader, and he’s at his heart-pounding best with First Daughter. Here are the chills you’ve been looking for.’

  Tess Gerritsen

  ‘Action, suspense, and politics blended to perfection by a master. An automatic buy-today-read-tonight author for me.’

  Lee Child

  ‘The master of the smart thriller.’

  Nelson DeMille

  About this Series

  JACK MCCLURE

  Jack McClure is an ATF agent who has lost everything but his job. His daughter was killed in a terrible accident and his marriage disintegrated shortly after. And even in the ATF he is an anomaly: as a guy who grew up on the streets, he always has one foot on each side of the law. But he’s also a very gifted agent, with analytical talents that are unsurpassed in the service.

  1. First Daughter

  When a terrible accident takes the life of his only daughter and his marriage falls apart, Jack McClure blames himself, numbing the pain by submerging himself in work. Then he receives a call from his old friend Edward Carson – a man who is only weeks from becoming President of the United States.

  Carson’s daughter Alli has been kidnapped and Jack is the one man he can trust to go to any lengths to find his daughter and bring her home safely.

  For Jack, this is a chance to lay his past to rest… but at what price? His search for Alli puts him in the path of a dangerous and calculating man. Someone whose actions are as cold as they are brilliant. Whose power and reach are seemingly infinite. And who would do anything to the future first daughter to attain his ends…

  First Daughter is available here.

  2. Last Snow

  “This is a copy of Berns’s official itinerary. Kiev was his last stop. Remember this name: K. Rochev. As far as we know, Rochev was the last man he saw before he left Ukraine.”

  Four days ago, US Senator Lloyd Berns was killed in a hit-and-run on the island of Capri off the Italian coast. His death deals a serious blow to President Carson’s precarious new administration. But more worrying is that Berns was never officially on Capri. According to the White House, Berns was on a tour of the Ukraine.

  Agent Jack McClure is babysitting Carson’s troubled daughter in Moscow. Alli is still traumatised by her abduction last year, and the only person she trusts is Jack, the man who rescued her. But the President needs Jack to investigate the Senator’s final days in the Ukraine, and since Alli won’t be parted from her protector, he’ll have to take her along.

  Their starting point is the senator’s last known contact: K. Rochev. But all they find at Rochev’s address is the body of a young woman, brutally executed. And now Jack and Alli have attracted dangerous attention from the Ukrainian police, the FSB, and the Russian mafia...

  Last Snow is available here.

  3. Blood Trust

  Alli Carson used to be the daughter of the President of the United States. She wanted for nothing. But now, after a terrible car crash killed her father and left her mother in a coma, Alli’s only solace is her work. She is determined to become the best FBI agent at the Fearington Institute, and prove herself to the one man who makes life worth living: National Security Adviser, Jack McClure.

  But when Alli becomes the prime suspect in a murder at Fearington, it seems even her job is to be snatched from her. Jack knows she is innocent. But to prove it, he must unravel a complex web of lies that stretches from the secret service to a vast global enterprise that lurks in the shadows of power…

  Blood Trust is available here.

  About the Author

  Eric Van Lustbader is the author of seven of Robert Ludlum’s Jason Bourne series. He has written more than twenty-five novels, which have been translated into over twenty languages. He lives in New York and Long Island.

  Visit Eric Van Lustbader’s website.

  About Head of Zeus

  We hope you enjoyed this book.

  We are Head of Zeus, a brand new publishing house dedicated to new authors, great storytelling, and fabulous ideas.

  To find your next read – and some tempting special offers – why not visit our website?

  First published in the UK in 2012 by Head of Zeus Ltd.

  Copyright © Eric van Lustbader, 2008

  The mora
l right of Eric van Lustbader to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act of 1988.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the prior permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.

  This is a work of fiction. All characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.