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Lighthouse Publishing - Mike Brogan

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219 pages

English

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B R E A T H E ... a mystery suspense thriller Scientist Nell Northam is abducted by terrorists who force her to help them launch a weapon so horrific that thousands of Americans will die in minutes. The president asks his security advisor, Donovan Rourke, to help. But when Donovan is ready to stop the attack, he realizes something -- he's been completely misled ... and it may be too late to save thousands of innocent people ... REVIEWS "Mike Brogan has a way with a villain, and he makes his heroes every bit as interesting. BREATHE extends the author's winning streak. Its pace is so relentless, the title is a handy reminder not to forget to work our lungs." Loren D. Estleman, author of BLACK AND WHITE BALL, Four-time Shamus award winner. "In G8, Brogan's CIA Special Agent Donovan Rourke saved the eight top world leaders. That was just a cozy cuddle-up compared to BREATHE, where eight million New Yorkers could soon die. Every Brogan novel is a tension-mounting thriller, but the stakes have never been higher. Pick it up and you'll barely have time to BREATHE!" Phil Rosette, The Freya Project; Seoul Legacy; the Orphan's Flu; Broken String. "Donovan Rourke, a CIA special Advisor, learns of a terrorist plan threatening thousands of innocent lives ; but what is it? Fast-paced action, intricate details you have to unravel, and an exciting finish that leaves you "breathless" and sorry it's over. You'll think - "BREATHE could really happen!" Rebecca M. Lyles, author of From the Errors of Others

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Thriller

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Publié par	Lighthouse Publishing
Date de parution	11 septembre 2017
Nombre de lectures	0
EAN13	9780998005683
Langue	English

Informations légales : prix de location à la page 0,0374€. Cette information est donnée uniquement à titre indicatif conformément à la législation en vigueur.

Extrait

Doctor Nell Northam is abducted by jihadists to help them launch a weapon. The President asks his top security advisor, Donovan Rourke, to stop the attack. But when Donovan and Nell are finally ready to stop it, they realize they’ve been deceived – and that thousands of Americans are about to die.

A suspense thriller.
MIKE BROGAN
Lighthouse
Also by Mike Brogan

Business to Kill For
Dead Air
Madison’s Avenue
G8
Kentucky Woman
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places, events, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2017 By Mike Brogan
All rights reserved
ISBN 978-0-9980056-7-6
Library of Congress Control Number: 2017941349
Printed in the United States of America Published in the United States by Lighthouse Publishing
Cover design: Vong Lee
First Edition
This book is dedicated to the men and women of the FBI, CIA, Homeland Security, Police, and US Military who risk their lives… to protect ours.
Contents

Acknowledgements
One
Two
Three
Four
Five
Six
Seven
Eight
Nine
Ten
Eleven
Twelve
Thirteen
Fourteen
Fifteen
Sixteen
Seventeen
Eighteen
Nineteen
Twenty
Twenty One
Twenty Two
Twenty Three
Twenty Four
Twenty Five
Twenty Six
Twenty Seven
Twenty Eight
Twenty Nine
Thirty
Thirty One
Thirty Two
Thirty Three
Thirty Four
Thirty Five
Thirty Six
Thirty Seven
Thirty Eight
Thirty Nine
Forty
Forty One
Forty Two
Forty Three
Forty Four
Forty Five
Forty Six
Forty Seven
Forty Eight
Forty Nine
Fifty
Fifty One
Fifty Two
Fifty Three
Fifty Four
Fifty Five
Fifty Six
Fifty Seven
Fifty Eight
Fifty Nine
Sixty
Sixty One
Sixty Two
Sixty Three
Sixty Four
Sixty Five
Sixty Six
Sixty Seven
Sixty Eight
Sixty Nine
Seventy
Seventy One
Seventy Two
Seventy Three
Seventy Four
Seventy Five
Seventy Six
Seventy Seven
Seventy Eight
Seventy Nine
Eighty
Eighty One
Epilogue
About The Author
Acknowledgments

To Andrew Manning, former-FBI Special Agent, for his helpful suggestions and insights into the challenges facing FBI agents each day as they protect our citizens.
To the experts at the US Military’s Aberdeen Proving Ground for their helpful counsel on weapons of mass destruction and related subjects.
To my fellow novelists and writing colleagues for their suggestions that made this story better.
To editor/translator, Brendan Brogan, for his insightful review and improvements to the rough draft of BREATHE.
To author, Rebecca M. Lyles, for her comprehensive final edit and enhancements to the manuscript of BREATHE.
And to my wife, Marcie, and the family for their endless patience with the distracted writer in residence.
ONE
MANHATTAN
N ell Northam thought her sister, Lindee, looked good. Eight months ago Lindee looked dead.
A man had attacked her in her apartment and left her to bleed out. Nell found Lindee with no pulse and did CPR until an ambulance rushed her to Mount Sinai where her heart stopped twice in the ER. But she was resuscitated.
Days later, she emerged from a coma and began a slow recovery. Her doctor called her “The Miracle Girl.”
Today, the Miracle Girl seemed almost back to normal, if you forgot about the three dead-bolt locks on her apartment door, two alarm systems, and her sweat-drenched nightmares.
Nell had flown up from Virginia for their annual Sisters-ShopTill-We-Drop-Athon. She had her eye out for a few items, but really wanted to make sure her younger sister was recovering physically and psychologically. So far it appeared she was.
Nell turned and looked in a shop window and couldn’t believe her eyes. “Found it!”
“What?” Lindee said, two shops ahead.
“That beautiful Michael Kors purse I’ve been lusting after.”
“In brown?”
“Brown and on sale!”
“Look at what else is on sale!” Lindee said, pointing in her window.
“What?”
“Those Cole Haan shoes you’ve also been on the prowl for!”
“No way!”
“I’m looking at them!”
Nell was amazed. They’d been shopping for only four hours and she’d already found the two items she wanted most just a few feet apart. On sale! What were the odds?
She looked back at the attractive leather purse. Why 50%-off? She couldn’t see any flaws. Even if it had a flaw, it was good enough for her.
She heard footsteps come close. Suddenly two men grabbed her from behind.
She tried to scream, but a huge male hand clamped her mouth shut. She struggled against arms that felt like steel bands. The big man and a short man dragged her quickly toward an open van.
This is not happening! Nell thought, as they lifted her into the van.
Lindee turned, saw her, and shouted - “ STOP! LET HER GO! HELP! ”
But a truck horn blasted, drowning out Lindee’s cries.
The big man pushed Nell down on the van floor as the van sped away from the curb.
* * *
Lindee slumped against a parking meter, watching the van disappear into heavy traffic. I’m having another nightmare!
But then she saw Nell’s earring near the curb.
My God - Nell was taken! She grabbed the earring and called 911.
“My sister was just taken by two men in a van!”
“Where are you ma’am?”
“On Broadway near 67 th . Not far from Barneys.”
“What kind of van?”
“Long. White. Big windows along the side. It looked new.”
“Did you see the license plate?”
Lindee paused. “The last number was maybe a . . . nine.”
“Which direction was the van driving on Broadway? North or south?”
“I don’t know.”
“ Away from Columbus Circle?”
“Yes.”
“What was your sister wearing?”
Lindee told her.
“Remain there, ma’am. Keep your phone on. We’re sending a police car immediately.”
“Please hurry! ”
Her mind spinning, Lindee stared at the spot where they grabbed Nell. She prayed it was just another one of her crazy nightmares.
But she knew it wasn’t.
Her sister was just abducted.
TWO
D onovan Rourke sat in his CIA office in Manhattan, one of the CIA offices scattered throughout Midtown, Lower Manhattan, and Brooklyn.
He was relaxing between meetings and gazing out at the sun-drenched leaves in the nearby park. He liked how the leaves blended from lime green to emerald. The greens always calmed him until the next crisis, which looked like it might be walking into his office right now.
Mamie, his smart, organized, fifty-something, Nigerian-born assistant, had that something’s-up look on her face. She pointed at his phone.
“God’s on one!” she said.
“Tell Him I’m busy.”
“Everyone’s a comedian!”
“What’s the Director want?”
“No idea. Meanwhile, here’s more stuff for you.” She smiled as she dumped a stack of paperwork and folders in his inbox, and walked out.
More stuff, how nice. He had enough. Nine months ago the Director of National Intelligence, Michael Madigan, and the President appointed Donovan as a Special Advisor on terrorism, and head of a new secret covert group affiliated with the CIA. Donovan had been honored by the appointment. He coordinated closely with the FBI and other Manhattan-based anti-terrorism groups because Manhattan was the golden magnet for terrorist groups.
But each week he had to fly to Washington, sometimes twice or more, to huddle with various national security groups and DNI Madigan. The weekly travel was starting to wear thin with him and Maccabee, his wife. They’d been considering whether relocating to Washington would make things easier for their family.
Line one buzzed.
DNI Madigan, the most powerful man in the United States Intelligence community, was a long-time friend and a tough but fair taskmaster . . . who was about to task him again! And possibly screw up our wedding anniversary trip this weekend. Already postponed twice.
Donovan picked up. “Director . . .”
“Donovan, we have a situation.”
“What’s up?”
“A top government scientist was just grabbed off a Manhattan street.”
“Where?”
“A few blocks from you.”
Donovan heard the soft drone of an engine and assumed Madigan was flying somewhere to check one of his many intelligence groups: the CIA, NSA, FBI, Homeland Security, and all sixteen US intelligence agencies, or whatever number the congressional idiots decided on this week. Madigan visited the agencies to insist they share information and to kick ass when they didn’t.
“What happened?”
“Pentagon says one of their chief scientists, a woman named Doctor Nell Northam, was abducted near Broadway and 67 th . Two men dragged her into a white van and sped off. Her sister, Lindee, saw it happen. She gave NYPD a brief description.”
“The FBI on this?”
“Yeah. Special Agent Drew Manning’s heading it up for the FBI.”
”Manning’s excellent.”
“Agreed. But we want you to work with Manning.”
“Why me? Kidnappings and abductions are FBI stuff.”
“Yeah, but we . . .”
“The President and I.”
“Ah, the Royal We. ”
“Yeah. The President wants you heading this up, Donovan.”
Donovan paused. “Why?”
“Because of Doctor Northam’s job. Which is highly critical to our national security. Like your job.”
Donovan said nothing.
“He also wants you because of who Nell Northam is.”
“And who is she?”
“The President’s first cousin.”
“Ah, the Royal First Cousin . . .”
“Yep. Check in with Drew Manning and call me when you guys know more. I got a real bad feeling about this because of what Doctor Northam does. And whoever took her, knows what she does.”
Madigan gave him a brief overview of her work. As he did, Donovan’s stomach churned with the horrific implications of her skill in terrorist hands.
They hung up.
Donovan started to call FBI Special Agent Drew Manning when Donovan’s personal phone rang. Maccabee, his wife.
A year ago, she’d transferred from the Princeton faculty to NYU as a full professor in the Foreign Languages, Translation, Interpreting Department. She enjoyed NYU’s academic-urban environment better than she’d originally thou