Brad Thor - Foreign Influence

Harvath’s phone vibrated. It was an unknown number and he was tempted not to answer it, but for some stupid reason he thought maybe Carlton had given in and passed his number along to Riley in Paris.

The moment he heard the modulated voice on the other end, he knew he had made a mistake. “You owe my boss some money, Nicholas. And he wants it from you in person,” said Harvath.

“I’ve got something else the Old Man’s going to want a lot more,” replied the Troll.

“Then call him and tell him yourself,” he said as he reached for more chai. “I’m going on vacation.”

“I found something on Adda Sterk’s thumb drive.”

“What thumb drive?”

“The one I found in Geneva after you dumped her purse out looking for her inhaler.”

“That’s U.S. government property, Nicholas.”

Wherever in the world he was, the Troll laughed. “I’m doing you a favor. I really think you should see this.”

“Not interested,” said Harvath.

“Aazim Aleem has a nephew who works at Harrods.”

“So what?”

“So, his nephew was a digital courier for him. Real smart when it came to transmitting information without leaving a trail. Except he made one mistake, and I found it.”

“On the thumb drive.”

“Yes.”

Chase was listening intently. Harvath decided the conversation was over. Clinking the tiny spoon he had against his glass he said, “You know what sound that is, Nicholas? That’s the bell signaling the commencement of the local cocktail hour. I’m off the clock. I’m sure you can track down my boss if you try hard enough.”

That’s when the Troll let the other shoe fall. “A piece of data was transmitted to Sterk that never should have been. It was highly encrypted and even if she had noticed it buried in another file, I don’t think she could have decrypted it. I think that’s why it was left on her thumb drive, hidden in plain sight.”

“Okay, I give. What is it?”

The Troll took a deep breath and let it out. “Site 243 wasn’t just about a string of Islamic terrorist attacks. The attacks are a small wave preceding a giant tsunami meant to crush the United States.”

On a rooftop two blocks away, as a man listened to his employer, he could picture him sitting in his club’s library, his liver-spotted hands holding his encrypted cell phone.

“You are positive Aleem is in the trunk of the car?”

“I am,” said the man on the rooftop.

“And nothing will be traced back to us?”

“Nothing at all.”

There was a pause before the man in London finally said, “You have my permission to proceed.” With that, the line went dead.

The man on the rooftop plucked out his earbud, wrapped the cord around his cell phone, and replaced it in his pocket.

Bending over, he flipped open the lid of the hard plastic container at his feet and removed the rocket-propelled grenade.

He flipped up the sights and hoisted the weapon on his shoulder. It was heavier than he remembered. It took him a moment to focus on the white Corolla in the distance.

When he had his target perfectly aligned in his sights, Robert Ashford pulled the trigger.

The people who make my job so enjoyable are you, my terrific readers. Thank you for all your support and all the wonderful interaction we have on the BradThor.com forum. I also want to thank the best group of forum moderators the Internet has ever known.

My thanks go out to the marvelous booksellers around the world who have been so instrumental in turning new readers on to the Scot Harvath novels.

The idea for this novel came from time spent with my good friend Barrett Moore. He is an amazing warrior, patriot, and one of the wisest men I know. Thank you for all the help.

In addition to Barrett, Mr. Red, Mr. White, and Mr. Blue provided exceptional background for this story. I very much wanted to name them here, but they asked me not to, content to remain in the shadows where they so professionally ply their trade.

Keeping Scot Harvath on the cutting edge is a 24/7 job and I couldn’t do it without James Ryan and Rodney Cox. I am much indebted to you for both your help with my novels and the service you have rendered our great nation.

Scott F. Hill, Ph.D., and Ronald Moore have given much to our country, and I can always count on them to provide invaluable assistance with my writing. Gentlemen, thank you.

Rob Pincus and Carl Hospedales, as usual, provided exceptional subject-matter expertise. Drinks are on me next time.

My core group of warriors: Chad Norberg, Chuck Fretwell, Steve Hoffa, Jeff Chudwin, Mitch Shore, Gary Penrith, and Steven Bronson were there for me once again with answers to all my questions. To them (and my other friends who asked to remain nameless) I want to say thank you for all you do for us. Stay safe.

I also want to thank John Giduck and Joe Bail, who gave me some very special assistance this year, as well as Stephanie Dickerson.

In Washington, David Vennett and Patrick Doak continue to be great resources and even better friends. Thank you.

Father C. John McCloskey, III, helped as I developed the life and background of Padre Peio. Thank you, Father CJ.

I am blessed to be on one of the best teams in the business and wish to thank everyone at Atria and Pocket Books: my wonderful editor, Emily Bestler; my fantastic publishers, Carolyn Reidy, Judith Curr, and Louise Burke; my remarkable publicist, David Brown; the incomparable Atria/Pocket sales staff, art and production departments, and audio division, as well as the invaluable Michael Selleck, Laura Stern, Sarah Branham, Irene Lipsky, Esther Bochner, and Lisa Keim.

I also wish to thank my outstanding literary agent, Heide Lange, of Sanford J. Greenburger Associates, Inc., as well as the amazing Jennifer Linnan, Rachael Dillon Fried, and Tara Singh for all that they do for me.

Scott Schwimer continues to be not only a superb attorney, but also a very good friend. Thanks, Scottie.

Finally, every step of the way and every minute of the day I am able to do what I do because of the support of my beautiful wife, Trish. None of this would be possible without her. Thank you, honey. I love you.

Photo Credit: Jan Cobb

My Life in 8 Words: The result of hard work and taking chances.

Q. What is your motto or maxim?

A. Never give up. Never give in.

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