Cassie pushed Darlene forward. “Don’t you remember?”
Ned scrunched his brow.
“The first time we met, you said your dream was to retire on a boat in the Caribbean, maybe even in St. Thomas. You said you never wanted to feel the cold again. Turns out, it’s not so hard to follow the sales of luxury yachts when you have the resources of the United States government at your disposal.”
Ned cursed himself for his carelessness as he remembered that conversation over six months before.
“Tell me,” Cassie continued. “Did you know what fate you were sending your victims to? Did you know what the Russians were doing to us?”
“No.”
“Liar,” Gale said.
“I didn’t know. I… I still don’t know.”
“The truth will come out soon enough,” Cassie said. “You both will pay for what you did to William French, my dog, and all your other victims.”
“Your dog!” Ned half laughed, leaning forward and extinguishing his cigar in the ashtray near his pistol. “Please tell me this whole charade isn’t about a dog.”
“It’s about what you did to your countless victims, the pain you put my daughters and son-in-law through,” Gale said.
“Ah, so he survived, that’s great to hear. But I have to tell you, that wasn’t us who planned on shooting Peter Trask. Those men who shot your son-in-law and your dog were not my men.”
“We know that,” Cassie said.
“Then you know we are not at fault! So whatever you are going to do, you might as well get on with it!” Ned said and jumped for his pistol. Grabbing it, he aimed it at Gale and pressed the trigger.
Click! Click! Click!
Ned looked down at the weapon in shock as another figure stepped out from the shadows behind Gale.
Paul Brady wore all black, just like the rest of them. He gazed at Ned, relishing the panicked expression on his face. “We unloaded your gun earlier this evening. Funny you didn’t notice.”
Brady snapped his fingers and suddenly a half-dozen figures sprang up from the water and jumped on the boat. They wore rebreathers on their faces and black wet suits and sported HK 416s that they aimed at Ned and Darlene.
“You’ll never make us talk,” Ned said, defiantly.
“You’re right. We won’t make you talk, but I’m sure they will.”
The operators descended on Ned and Darlene, zip-tying them as they forced them to the ground. After cuffing them, they stood them upright and walked them off the yacht to the dock.
They watched them go, then Brady said, “Now, what?”
Cassie stepped forward and grabbed Brady’s hand, giving it a small squeeze. “Well, you keep telling me how you want to see Montana.”
Gale shoved his weapon into his holster, glad to see his daughter so happy, then looked at Brady. “You’ve never been to Montana?”
“Can’t say I have.”
“It’s a terrible place, not beautiful at all,” Cassie said with a smile.
“Funny,” Brady replied. “Almost every Montanan gives me that same reply.”
“Our way of keeping people out,” Gale said. “C’mon, I promised those SEALs a beer if we ever made it out of the sharashka alive.”
“Well, then, I guess we should hightail it stateside,” Brady said. “Don’t want to break that kind of promise.”
“No, I guess I don’t.”
Acknowledgments
I HAD A wonderful writing professor in college who told me that it takes a village to write and publish a novel.
She couldn’t have been more correct.
Marianne Wiggins, thank you for not only letting me use your office to write in my free time, but also for your brutally honest teaching manner. Your early support means the world to me.
To Gregg Hurwitz and his better half, Delinah, thank you both so much for your mentorship over the years. Not only did you both practically furnish my apartment after college, you gave me the desk on which I wrote my first novel. But most importantly, thank you both so much for feeding me and giving me odd jobs around the house when I was a starving college student and a struggling writer. Delinah, I’m still keeping that Tupperware!
Andrew Kircher and Connor Lunt, thank you so much for your time helping me on all things aviation. All mistakes are my own.
I would also like to thank some of the early readers of the manuscript, who each gave me insightful notes and comments. Alex Marker, Andrea Sloan, Ben Sembler, Brock Coyle, Francesca Zanatti, Jens Davis, Michael Hewitt, Coley Oliver, Chase Ryan, Krista Zsitvay, Walker Adams, and Steph Irwin. Thank you all so much.
To O and M, my good friends up north. I want to not only thank you both for your decades of service to our country, but also for helping me with all things “Agency” and “Dam Neck” in this book. Again, all mistakes are my own. Excited for the future, and more long hikes up “The Big.” Only Dead Fish Swim with the Current.
To Robert Crais. You probably don’t remember this, but years ago at a book launch I was telling you how I was struggling with the writing process, and you just smiled at me and said, “I know, isn’t it great! How lucky are we to be able to write every day? We have the best job in the world.” Bob, that really resonated with me and really put things in perspective. We truly are incredibly lucky and fortunate to be able to do what we love. Thank you.
To my superagents Meg Ruley and Rebecca Scherer and everyone at the Jane Rotrosen Agency. Thank you so much for taking a chance on me. Your patience and meticulous help not only through the drafting process, but also guiding me through the world of publishing means more than you both could know.
To Emily Bestler, it has always been a dream of mine to work with you and your team at Emily Bestler Books. Thank you so much for your insight and keen editorial eye.
To Lara Jones, thank you so much for keeping me and everything else on-target.
To everyone at Simon & Schuster and Atria Books, thank you for giving me the green light and being the best in the business at what you do. Specifically, thank you to Libby McGuire, Suzanne Donahue, Kristin Fassler, Dana Trocker, Milena Brown, David Brown, James Iacobelli, Paige Lytle, Jason Chappell, and Laurie McGee. At the time of writing this, we are all still in quarantine. One day soon, I hope to meet and thank you all in person for all your hard work.
Nearly five years ago when I first started writing Sleeping Bear, I knew I was taking a pretty big risk. How could I take a “woman goes missing in the woods” plot and turn it into a political/espionage thriller? I had never seen it done before, and quite frankly, it terrified me. I knew that in order to pull it off, I’d have to go back and study the masters. Vince Flynn, Brad Thor, Mark Greaney, Gregg Hurwitz, David Baldacci, and Jack Carr, thank you so much for blazing the way.
To my father, Mark Sullivan. Words can’t even describe the gratitude I have for you helping me on this journey. Growing up, you showed me what it took to become a writer. I saw the work ethic it took, the grit to keep going when things weren’t going right, the highs and lows. I don’t think I could have done this without you. Thank you.
To my mother, Betsy Sullivan. Thank you for being the most supportive, loving mother ever.
To Bridger, Dylan, Henna, Pacho, Mary, Jorge, and Chris. Thank you so much for putting up with me.
To my wonderful wife, Mariafe. You are the most loving, supportive, and incredible person I have ever met. Why you married me, I have no idea, but I feel like the luckiest person in the world that you did. I love you.
To Alan, to whom this book is dedicated. Thank you for all the love and support over the years, not only to me, but to all the others you helped guide into adulthood. We all love and miss you, big guy. Rest easy.
And lastly, to my canine writing partner Arlo. If it wasn’t for your incessant whining, crying, and barking in the first two years of your life, this novel would have been completed years ago. But honestly, I wouldn’t have it any other way. Now you get to deal with a real sleeping bear, your baby Saint
Bernard sister, Matilda. Isn’t payback sweet.
About the Author
CONNOR SULLIVAN attended the University of Southern California, where he was the recipient of the Edward W. Moses Creative Writing Prize. During college, he worked for Warner Bros. reading screenplays before relocating with his family to the Gallatin Valley in Montana. Sleeping Bear is his first novel.
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Interior design by Erika R. Genova
Jacket design by Greg Kulick
Author photograph by Mariafe Ponce
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Names: Sullivan, Connor, author.
Title: Sleeping bear : a thriller / Connor Sullivan.
Description: First Emily Bestler Books/Atria Books hardcover edition. | New York: Emily Bestler Books/Atria, 2021.
Identifiers: LCCN 2021008720 (print) | LCCN 2021008721 (ebook) | ISBN 9781982166397 (hardcover) | ISBN 9781982166410 (ebook)
Subjects: LCSH: Women veterans—Fiction. | Missing persons—Fiction. | Fathers and daughters—Fiction. | Political fiction. | GSAFD: Spy stories.
Classification: LCC PS3619.U4145 S58 2021 (print) | LCC PS3619.U4145 (ebook) | DDC 813/.6—dc23
LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2021008720
LC ebook record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2021008721
ISBN 978-1-9821-6639-7
ISBN 978-1-9821-6641-0 (ebook)
Sleeping Bear Page 39