Private Rogue, page 1
Contents
CHAPTER 1
CHAPTER 2
CHAPTER 3
CHAPTER 4
CHAPTER 5
CHAPTER 6
CHAPTER 7
CHAPTER 8
CHAPTER 9
CHAPTER 10
CHAPTER 11
CHAPTER 12
CHAPTER 13
CHAPTER 14
CHAPTER 15
CHAPTER 16
CHAPTER 17
CHAPTER 18
CHAPTER 19
CHAPTER 20
CHAPTER 21
CHAPTER 22
CHAPTER 23
CHAPTER 24
CHAPTER 25
CHAPTER 26
CHAPTER 27
CHAPTER 28
CHAPTER 29
CHAPTER 30
CHAPTER 31
CHAPTER 32
CHAPTER 33
CHAPTER 34
CHAPTER 35
CHAPTER 36
CHAPTER 37
CHAPTER 38
CHAPTER 39
CHAPTER 40
CHAPTER 41
CHAPTER 42
CHAPTER 43
CHAPTER 44
CHAPTER 45
CHAPTER 46
CHAPTER 47
CHAPTER 48
CHAPTER 49
CHAPTER 50
CHAPTER 51
CHAPTER 52
CHAPTER 53
CHAPTER 54
CHAPTER 55
CHAPTER 56
CHAPTER 57
CHAPTER 58
CHAPTER 59
CHAPTER 60
CHAPTER 61
CHAPTER 62
CHAPTER 63
CHAPTER 64
CHAPTER 65
CHAPTER 66
CHAPTER 67
CHAPTER 68
CHAPTER 69
CHAPTER 70
CHAPTER 71
CHAPTER 72
CHAPTER 73
CHAPTER 74
CHAPTER 75
CHAPTER 76
CHAPTER 77
CHAPTER 78
CHAPTER 79
CHAPTER 80
CHAPTER 81
CHAPTER 82
CHAPTER 83
CHAPTER 84
CHAPTER 85
CHAPTER 86
CHAPTER 87
CHAPTER 88
CHAPTER 89
CHAPTER 90
CHAPTER 91
CHAPTER 92
CHAPTER 93
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
About the Authors
JAMES PATTERSON is one of the best-known and biggest-selling writers of all time. His books have sold in excess of 400 million copies worldwide. He is the author of some of the most popular series of the past two decades – the Alex Cross, Women’s Murder Club, Detective Michael Bennett and Private novels – and he has written many other number one bestsellers including non-fiction and stand-alone thrillers.
James is passionate about encouraging children to read. Inspired by his own son who was a reluctant reader, he also writes a range of books for young readers including the Middle School, Dog Diaries, Treasure Hunters and Max Einstein series. James has donated millions in grants to independent bookshops and has been the most borrowed author in UK libraries for the past thirteen years in a row. He lives in Florida with his family.
ADAM HAMDY is a British author and screenwriter who works with studios and production companies on both sides of the Atlantic. He is the author of the Scott Pearce series of contemporary espionage thrillers (Black 13, Red Wolves) and the Pendulum trilogy, a series of conspiracy thriller novels (Pendulum, Freefall, Aftershock). Adam also writes speculative fiction, and his novel The Other Side of Night will be published in autumn 2021. Keep up to date with his latest books and news at www.adamhamdy.com.
THE PRIVATE NOVELS
Private (with Maxine Paetro)
Private London (with Mark Pearson)
Private Games (with Mark Sullivan)
Private: No. 1 Suspect (with Maxine Paetro)
Private Berlin (with Mark Sullivan)
Private Down Under (with Michael White)
Private L.A. (with Mark Sullivan)
Private India (with Ashwin Sanghi)
Private Vegas (with Maxine Paetro)
Private Sydney (with Kathryn Fox)
Private Paris (with Mark Sullivan)
The Games (with Mark Sullivan)
Private Delhi (with Ashwin Sanghi)
Private Princess (with Rees Jones)
Private Moscow (with Adam Hamdy)
A list of more titles by James Patterson appears at the back of this book
For those who face adversity so others stay safe
CHAPTER 1
“OVERLORD, THIS IS Sabre. We are three clicks from the target.”
“Copy that, Sabre. All eyes show a clear run. Maintain your current heading.”
“Copy,” Captain Joshua Floyd replied.
Command saw no threats, but Floyd knew better than to relax. He had been on missions that had gone from still water to a Category-5 hurricane in the blink of an eye. He checked his radar display and confirmed what he’d been told: no obvious threats.
The engines of his MV-22B Osprey hummed reassuringly as he guided the aircraft low over the pitch black mountainous terrain. They were flying dark with low infra-red in the cabin and cockpit. Floyd used the contours of the illuminated heads-up display to pick out his flightpath. He’d rehearsed the mission endlessly. Cross the Pakistan border near Sham Shah, drop low into the Mangwal Valley and fly north over the mountains of Nuristan, deep into Afghan territory, toward Nangalam and their target. Floyd knew every crease and wrinkle in the rugged terrain, and guided the Osprey with a deftness of touch that meant the Green Beret unit in the main cabin were hardly stirred.
“Looking good,” said Nat Porter, Floyd’s co-pilot.
“Give them the sixty,” Floyd responded.
Nat had the winning smile of a college quarterback. He flashed it now, flipping the cabin ready light from red to green.
“Colonel Elmore, sixty seconds to target,” Nat said over the radio, and turned to give Elmore the ready signal—an index finger wound rapidly through the air.
Floyd glanced over his shoulder and saw sixteen heavily armed men in black tactical uniforms run through their final equipment and weapons checks. Colonel Sam Elmore, a grizzled veteran who was used to wrestling death into submission, gave Floyd a thumbs-up.
He pulled the Osprey into a gentle climb, tracking the gradient of the final hill, about two hundred feet above ground level. As they neared the apex of the ridge, he throttled back to reduce airspeed. There was a moment of inertia as the aircraft levelled out. Then came a stomach-churning change of direction as Floyd allowed gravity to take hold and pull them into the valley on the other side.
“Thirty seconds,” he said into the radio.
Floyd slowed further, and began the rotor tilt. The propellers, which had been configured as a plane, shifted as the motors on each wing ground them out of position, turning the aircraft into a dual-rotor helicopter, capable of a pinpoint landing. Floyd looked ahead to see their target, a compound of four low rectangular buildings, each about the size of two school buses.
“Ten seconds,” he said.
“Ten seconds,” Elmore repeated over the radio.
“Sabre, you are a go mission,” Command informed them.
“Copy that, Overlord,” Floyd acknowledged.
Intelligence reports suggested their mission objective was located in the building that lay to the east of the compound, and Floyd had rehearsed setting the bird down within twenty yards of the structure. He banked slightly, dropped to within fifty feet of the deck, and lowered the landing gear.
“Five seconds,” he said.
“Five,” Elmore confirmed.
The simple concrete buildings stood like gray teeth against the black sky, and seemed to grow larger as the Osprey swept in.
Floyd’s heart started racing when he saw a flash of light off to his left. For the briefest moment the silhouette of a man was illuminated against the southernmost building. Floyd recognized the unmistakable shape of a shoulder-mounted rocket launcher, and watched with horror as the projectile traced a line through the sky, heading directly for them.
“Brace, brace, brace!” he yelled, as he banked starboard. “Brace for impact!”
He knew any attempt to outmaneuver the projectile at this range was futile, so he dropped the bird down and killed engine power. If they were going to get hit, being closer to the ground would increase their chances of survival.
Floyd could see the rocket approaching fast, and quickly elevated the port wing in an attempt to keep the impact away from the fuselage. The rocket hit the port engine, and the explosion sent the aircraft spinning. Floyd felt the landing gear snap as the aircraft thudded onto the ground. He was blinded by bright flames, and the cockpit erupted with a barrage of alarms.
“Sabre is down, I repeat, Sabre is down!” he shouted into his radio. “We have taken hostile fire. Sabre is down!”
“Bravo Nine, sound off!” Elmore yelled, and his unit responded with their condition.
Shielding his eyes against the flames, Floyd made sure the automatic fuel shutoff had killed the feed to both engines. He could see the extinguishers were working, but they weren’t enough to put out the inferno that was raging from the port engine, and spreading fast.
“We need to evac,” Nat said, eying the flames nervously.
“Agreed,” Floyd replied.
“Sabre, this is Overlord. What’s your situation?” The operator’s voice was calm, but Floyd sensed a panicked edge.
“Port engine is on fire,” he replied. “We’ve got to evacuate.”
“Copy that,” the operator replied. “Any casualties?”
Floyd looked at Elmore, who was on the same radio channel. He held up two fingers and shook his head somberly.
“We have two KIA,” Floyd responded, feeling a familiar lurch deep in his gut.
“Copy,” the operator replied. “Do you have eyes on hostiles?”
Floyd peered through the cracked windshield, but saw nothing in the darkness. The glare of the fire was making it impossible to pick out anything further than a few yards away.
“Negative,” he replied.
“You are to abort and withdraw to secondary RV,” the operator said.
They were being told to abandon the mission and move to a secondary rendezvous point for extraction.
“This is Sabre leader,” Elmore cut in. “Negative. We’re still on mission.”
“You have your orders, Sabre,” another voice responded over the radio. Floyd didn’t recognize it, but he could identify the confident tone of authority.
He glanced back to see Elmore shake his head in frustration. “Copy that, Overlord.”
“Charges,” Floyd said to Nat.
His co-pilot immediately reached for a safe beneath the instrument panel.
“We’re moving out,” Elmore told his unit. “Secondary RV. Let’s go.”
Floyd unclipped his harness and hauled himself up, while Nat touched his finger to a scanner that opened the safe. Inside was a keypad linked to a series of strategically placed charges concealed throughout the aircraft.
“Do it,” Floyd commanded.
Behind him, Elmore’s men opened the cargo bay, and the hull ground against rock as the pneumatic jacks forced the door.
Nat input two codes and a digital display was illuminated. It started counting down from five minutes.
“Colonel, we have five,” Floyd said.
“Copy,” Elmore replied. “Let’s move. Weapons hot, eyes sharp.”
Elmore’s men lowered their night-vision scopes and the two nearest the cargo door ran out in fire formation. The others followed, including two teams of three, who hauled the bodies of their fallen comrades.
Floyd checked the navigation display and made his final radio call. “Overlord, estimated time to RV is two hours.”
“Copy that, Sabre. Good luck.”
“There’s nothing we could have done,” Nat said.
Floyd nodded, removed his headset, and ushered his co-pilot ahead of him.
“Contact on my nine!” a voice yelled. There was a sudden flash and a blast of gunfire as one of Elmore’s men shot into the night.
Others joined him and a reply came almost immediately, bullets zipping through the air. The plane’s nose was pointing north; the enemy seemed to be located to the west, hidden behind a line of rocks that ran between their location and the compound.
“We’re sitting ducks in this position!” Elmore yelled. “Bravo nine, double time to those rocks on our three.”
He pointed to some jagged shapes about a hundred yards to the east.
Floyd drew his side arm and sprinted as the bullets continued to fly around him. Elmore and his men were laying down covering fire in alternating waves as they fell back to the rock formation. Floyd saw one of the men go down with a leg wound, another was hit in the shoulder, and a third took a head shot that cracked through his helmet.
Floyd and Nat were almost at the formation. More gunfire crackled to their rear, followed by shouts and curses from Elmore’s men as they tracked back to help the fallen. Nat scrambled up a large granite slab and Floyd followed.
Suddenly, a man with a black headscarf wrapped around his face reared up from behind the rock, levelled an AK-47 at Nat’s chest and fired. The volley of bullets sent him shuddering backwards and tumbling down the slab.
Floyd instinctively raised his gun and pulled the trigger. The man in the black headscarf cried out and fell back. Another quickly appeared from behind the rock and rushed forward, but Floyd was too quick. Two shots in the chest put him down.
Floyd hurried down to Nat and tried to find a pulse that wasn’t there. He felt a wave of nausea and wanted to be sick, but his training kept him going. He glanced back toward Elmore and saw the colonel alone in a field of fallen. All his men were either dead or injured. Their mission had become a scene of slaughter.
“Go!” Elmore yelled. “Get out of here!”
He fired a volley at targets Floyd couldn’t see. Muzzle flashes flared on the horizon and Elmore was caught by a bullet. Then another. Then another. He cried out in pain and bucked violently as he hit the ground.
Floyd turned away from the horrific scene and climbed up the slab to the first man he’d shot. He grabbed the AK-47 from the dead man’s hands and ran. Behind him, there was a violent dawn as the charges on the Osprey detonated, creating a fireball that reached to the heavens. Floyd felt the searing heat and soft push of the blast wave, pressing him forward into the night.
CHAPTER 2
SOME OF THE other parents were gathered beneath the gnarly, bare branches of the old oak tree, but Beth wanted as much sun as possible. It was brutally cold and the air had a razor-sharp bite. The sunlight seemed as faint and unwarming as a refrigerator bulb and would soon be gone, but it was better than nothing. Beth patted her sides and shuffled on the spot, willing the sun to slow its descent behind the roof of Garrison Elementary School. She watched some younger kids running around the basketball court, skipping and skidding across the ice, laughing as they waited for their older siblings. She remembered when Daniel and Marianne had been that age, and while toddlers were cute, they were also exhausting. She preferred her kids at their current ages, still cute, but a little older and a lot more independent. Now seven years old, Danny had all the confidence and charisma of a future president, and Beth sometimes felt he already believed he’d attained that high office. Maria was two years older and was blossoming from a quiet, thoughtful little girl into an assured, intelligent child.
Some of the other parents obsessed over grades, but Beth and her husband didn’t care how the kids did at school, as long as they were happy. Maybe that’s why she didn’t click with the other moms. She glanced over at Laura Fox-Ryan and her little gang of five, who were part of the group huddled under the tree, and got a couple of polite nods in reply. We’re not going to ignore you, because that might be awkward, but we’re not inviting you into the circle.
It reminded Beth of high school. Boasting, envy and competitiveness were the game there, and her casual indifference to the things others considered measures of success threw them off. She was almost certain they considered her a bad parent, and she knew there were whispers about the apparent lack of a man in her life.
If they knew the truth, Beth wondered how eager they’d be to make friends. Better a true enemy than a false friend, she thought, recalling her father’s sound advice.
Her eyes were drawn toward the daily ritual of kids being unleashed on the world. After the first flurry of youngsters surged out in a melee of bags and coats, she saw Danny and Maria walking out together.
“Hey, guys,” Beth said. “What news?”
“He’s talking Lego again,” Maria replied.
“Is there any other subject?” Beth asked.
“No,” Danny chuckled. “Where would we be without Lego?”
“Come on,” Beth said, ushering them toward the parking lot.
Minutes later, they were heading north along Bear Mountain Highway, past high mounds of blackened snow. Beth engaged in the daily interrogation of her children, while they acted like mobsters on a witness stand, divulging as little information as possible.
“Stuff,” Danny replied after Beth asked him to clarify what he had done that day.
She rolled her eyes and glanced at Maria, who sat in the passenger seat of their white GMC Yukon.
“What about you?”
“Other stuff,” Maria replied with a smile.
Beth couldn’t help but grin.
She switched on the radio as she made a right on Indian Brook Road. Maria immediately started singing along to Ariana Grande as Beth followed the winding route into the pine forest that surrounded Garrison.
As they passed the Mullers’ house, Beth noticed a black-and-gold police cruiser parked on a track to their right. She wondered what the State Police were doing out here and glanced in her rear-view to see the car pull onto the road behind them.
