Absolute zero, p.1
Absolute Zero, page 1
A B S O L U T E Z E R O
(AN AGENT ZERO SPY THRILLER—BOOK 12)
J A C K M A R S
Jack Mars
Jack Mars is the USA Today bestselling author of the LUKE STONE thriller series, which includes seven books. He is also the author of the new FORGING OF LUKE STONE prequel series, comprising six books; of the AGENT ZERO spy thriller series, comprising twelve books; and of the TROY STARK thriller series, comprising three books.
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Copyright © 2021 by Jack Mars. All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior permission of the author. This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return it and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places, events, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictionally. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Jacket image Copyright ex_artist, used under license from Shutterstock.com.
BOOKS BY JACK MARS
TROY STARK THRILLER SERIES
ROGUE FORCE (Book #1)
ROGUE COMMAND (Book #2)
ROGUE TARGET (Book #3)
LUKE STONE THRILLER SERIES
ANY MEANS NECESSARY (Book #1)
OATH OF OFFICE (Book #2)
SITUATION ROOM (Book #3)
OPPOSE ANY FOE (Book #4)
PRESIDENT ELECT (Book #5)
OUR SACRED HONOR (Book #6)
HOUSE DIVIDED (Book #7)
FORGING OF LUKE STONE PREQUEL SERIES
PRIMARY TARGET (Book #1)
PRIMARY COMMAND (Book #2)
PRIMARY THREAT (Book #3)
PRIMARY GLORY (Book #4)
PRIMARY VALOR (Book #5)
PRIMARY DUTY (Book #6)
AN AGENT ZERO SPY THRILLER SERIES
AGENT ZERO (Book #1)
TARGET ZERO (Book #2)
HUNTING ZERO (Book #3)
TRAPPING ZERO (Book #4)
FILE ZERO (Book #5)
RECALL ZERO (Book #6)
ASSASSIN ZERO (Book #7)
DECOY ZERO (Book #8)
CHASING ZERO (Book #9)
VENGEANCE ZERO (Book #10)
ZERO ZERO (Book #11)
ABSOLUTE ZERO (Book #12)
Agent Zero - Book 11 Summary
When Zero discovers his Swiss neurologist dead and files about his patient history missing, Zero takes it upon himself to find the murderer, leading him on an international manhunt that ends in a shocking discovery: Stefan Krauss, the murderer of Zero’s wife, has been implanted with a memory suppression chip, just like Zero had been five years earlier. Zero must ascertain Krauss’s target as the mysterious figure called Mr. Bright pulls the assassin’s strings behind the scenes. But Zero, now retired, no longer has the backing of the CIA—and no protection for his family, who he believes are also potential targets.
Agent Zero: After finding Dr. Guyer dead in Zurich, Zero followed the murderer’s trail and learned that Stefan Krauss had been implanted with a memory suppression device. Furthermore, he discovered that the man responsible for it is the elusive Mr. Bright, who acquired the tech directly from the CIA in return for eliminating anyone with knowledge of the program. After tearing the chip from Krauss’s head, the assassin went insane and took it upon himself to assassinate the Vice President of the United States. Zero managed to stop him, leading to a wild helicopter crash that claimed Krauss’s life, and left Zero too injured to return to the US and his daughters.
Maya Lawson: Unaware that the CIA was actively eliminating anyone who knew about the memory suppression program, Maya accepted a mission to Paris, where she narrowly avoided not one, but two assassination attempts. She and her partner Trent Coleman went AWOL, rescuing Sara from a near-murder attempt. The three of them fled to the Missouri wilderness, knowing that their lives were on the line, and with no other recourse but to hide out and stay on the move until Zero and Mischa could return.
Sara Lawson: Already mentally fragile, an explosion that nearly killed her left Sara in a state of shock, not caring if she lived or died—all while being pursued by Bright’s people. She hid out in the local community center where her trauma group met, leading her assailants there, and managed to take out five of them before being rescued by Maya and Trent.
Mischa Johansson: The preteen former operative fled the country with Zero and Alan to Rome, and then on to Cairo, where she witnessed firsthand the bombing of an Egyptian presidential palace. After helping Zero to ascertain who Krauss’s final target was, she rescued Vice President Joanna Barkley and informed her about Bright and his ties to the CIA. She was last seen in Egypt, fleeing Cairo after helping Zero escape the hospital in the wake of his helicopter crash.
Alan Reidigger: After taking a bullet to the shoulder in Rome, Alan opted to stay behind while Zero and Mischa hurried to Cairo to stop Krauss. Knowing he had reached the end of his usefulness, Reidigger turned himself in to Interpol in an effort to call off the hunt for Zero. Ultimately he ended up in the hands of Todd Strickland and EOT, a prisoner in the underground bowels of Langley, where he is being held until he agrees to give up the information that he knows about Mr. Bright—information that he knows is deadly to anyone who has it.
Todd Strickland: Now the leader of the Executive Operations Team, Strickland was tasked with handling security at the Cairo Accord, a Middle Eastern peace summit of nine nations. The accord was interrupted by the bombing of the Heliopolis Palace, which led Strickland in pursuit of Zero. He had Zero dead to rights, but let him go to rescue the Vice President from Krauss. He is holding Alan Reidigger in a secret holding cell in Langley until he can get more information on the character known as Mr. Bright.
Dr. Penelope León: The protégé of the now-deceased Bixby, Penny León betrayed her boyfriend, Todd Strickland, by secretly helping Zero in whatever way she could as he pursued Stefan Krauss. But she found herself faced with the assassin in Cairo and was badly injured in exchange for the whereabouts of the US Vice President. Now laid up in the hospital, Penny has been fired from the CIA, and has ended her relationship with Strickland.
Contents
PROLOGUE
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY
CHAPTER TWENTY ONE
CHAPTER TWENTY TWO
CHAPTER TWENTY THREE
CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR
CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE
CHAPTER TWENTY SIX
CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN
CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT
CHAPTER TWENTY NINE
CHAPTER THIRTY
CHAPTER THIRTY ONE
CHAPTER THIRTY TWO
CHAPTER THIRTY THREE
CHAPTER THIRTY FOUR
CHAPTER THIRTY FIVE
CHAPTER THIRTY SIX
CHAPTER THIRTY SEVEN
EPILOGUE
PROLOGUE
The man behind the big desk wore many hats. Among them, that of entrepreneur. Philanthropist. Arms dealer. Instigator. Terrorist, to some. Agent provocateur, at the very least.
It was the latter that he most wished could be printed on a business card. The thought brought a smile to his lips. The questions it would attract.
Not that he spoke about his business to anyone outside a small circle.
He called himself Mr. Bright.
Mr. Bright was not his real name, of course. No, his true identity was dead, both in the metaphorical sense of personal reinvention and in the almost-literal sense that he had pulled some strings, paid the right people, and had himself declared as such, years earlier.
There had even been a funeral. Closed casket. His mother had not attended.
Ironic then, in a way, that his former business partner, Mr. Shade, had found residence at H-6, the Moroccan CIA black site in the desert where the worst offenders of crimes against humanity, those Geneva Convention breakers, the genocidal and the ultra-zealots, were thrown into pits and forgotten. Bright had little doubt that the CIA had pronounced Shade dead for a second time in his life, regardless of whether he was or not.
He might as well be, to everyone that mattered, including Bright.
Mr. Bright’s spacious office was on the forty-seventh floor of the Buchanan Building in Midtown Manhattan, overlooking Central Park to the north. The building was owned and managed by his company, or one of them, the only legitimate one, in fact: Sunshin e Realty. Hundreds of people lived and worked on floors one through twenty-six without any knowledge of the goings-on on the floors above them, particularly the second-highest floor of the building (the forty-eighth floor was currently under renovation).
The decor of Bright’s office could be described as classic, perhaps even traditional, but certainly not chic or contemporary. Funny, despite his nom de guerre, he did not care for clean white walls or floor-to-ceiling windows. He preferred earthy tones, oak paneling. He liked paintings hung. He liked being able to see flaws in the wood grain.
Opposite his desk, mounted on the far wall, a flatscreen television was on but muted, tuned to a European soccer match. Bright wasn’t even paying enough attention to know who was playing; he was a casual fan. He mostly liked having something on in the background, some form of movement in the office. He enjoyed the fast-paced, frenetic, chaotic nature of the game. The almost nonstop back and forth between two sides.
But -- there were still rules. There must always be rules.
Every now and then, a whistle would blow and a referee would pause the game long enough to announce a foul. To award penalty shots or to deliver a damning card.
And that’s just how it was. Battle your opponent, go all-out. But go too far, and you must pay the penalty. And then -- as you were.
Historically, Bright likened himself to such a referee. Give both sides whatever they need. Let them battle it out. But one step over the line, and his people would be there, over your shoulder, with a whisper of your offense and a meaningfully-placed bullet.
Unfortunately, it was not he who had dealt the last red card.
Funny how most mistakes are only mistakes in hindsight; so many begin as seemingly good ideas. Case in point: trying to manipulate Stefan Krauss with the memory suppressor had been a mistake. Only six days ago, the helicopter Krauss had stolen crashed into the still-burning Heliopolis Palace in Cairo. Krauss was certainly dead. His passenger? Unknown.
And until the unknown became known, Bright had to assume that Agent Zero was still alive. All efforts to find him had failed. Attempts to locate his daughters, equally fruitless.
To Bright, the absence of evidence was (in this rare case) evidence. They were not dead. He knew that. And until Zero was dead, Bright had to continue looking over his shoulder for the referee, the red card. The whisper and the bullet that could be waiting for him at any moment.
It wasn’t right. He was supposed to be the bogeyman. Not Zero.
But if that was true, Bright wouldn’t have been sleeping with a gun under his pillow.
“Sir,” said a pert female voice through an intercom built into the desk.
“Yes, Michelle.” His assistant’s office was on the forty-fifth floor, some thirty feet below him.
“I have Director Shaw on the line for you.”
“Terrific,” said Bright. “Put him on hold for three minutes, and then put him through.”
There was a pregnant pause before Michelle asked, “Shall I have him call back?”
“No.” Bright smiled. “I just want to make him wait.” Mr. Bright had waited six days for this call; Shaw could wait three minutes. An inconsequential span by comparison, but still one that he knew would irk Shaw just enough to put an edge to his voice.
Mr. Bright had never met CIA Director Edward Shaw in person. Still, he knew what the man looked like. He knew that the director formerly headed the NSA and gained the CIA spot by whatever the version of nepotism that required ass-kissing was called. He knew Shaw’s height and weight as of his last physical exam. He knew the route Shaw took to work. He knew the coffee place where the director liked to stop twice a week and get a latte.
He knew a barista there that could be convinced to slip a bit of arsenic into a latte, for the right price.
Bright smiled at the thought. Such a measure would be far too extreme, even for him. But it was an amusing thought. Shaw was a sycophant, a glorified yes-man who lorded over his underlings as if his fist were iron and not arthritic. But as long as that meant he didn’t get any ideas of grandiosity, such people were more than tolerable --and useful -- to Bright.
At last Michelle put the call through. The phone on the desk rang. He let it ring four times before picking it up.
“Shaw,” he said by way of greeting.
The director sighed through the phone. In his mind’s eye, Bright could see flared nostrils and tight lips below Shaw’s hairless pate. “We have a problem.”
“I’m aware,” Bright agreed casually. “I’m surprised it took you this long to acknowledge it.”
“Consultations were required,” Shaw said vaguely. “Certain personnel needed to weigh in.”
“Bureaucracy,” said Bright, resisting the urge to replace it with “bullshit.” “And was an amenable solution reached?”
“It was,” said Shaw. “You are being made an enemy of the state.”
Bright’s fingers instinctively tightened around the receiver. It was difficult to strike him speechless, and admittedly shameful that it had come from the likes of Shaw.
“Not you personally, of course,” Shaw continued after a moment. “Your identity is… well-protected. The CIA is in the process of full disavowment, expunging all records and traces of our cooperation from anywhere. The United States is well aware that Stefan Krauss was not operating solo in Egypt, and is placing a ‘Suspect X’ at the top of the most-wanted list to represent whoever was in cahoots with him. If it leads back to you, there won’t be anything that I -- or anyone -- can do to help you. This little experiment of ours is over.”
Experiment?
Bright’s face flushed with anger. It was involuntary, elbowing its way to the front of his skull like an entitled VIP, making demands of his brain. It was a foreign feeling, an alien one that he did not feel often and had not in some time, and he did not at all like that it was Shaw who elicited it.
He was not an experiment.
He wanted to remind Shaw that he had thorough records of everything they had ever discussed, planned, condoned, and executed. He wanted to remind the director that to cut him off could easily be mutually-assured destruction. He wanted to remind the smug, bald man on the other end of the phone call that he could have his entire family killed inside an hour.
But threats would get him nowhere. Outing Shaw at his own expense was, quite literally, worthless. And the director knew that.
Mr. Bright forced himself to calm, to swallow the anger that shouted its demands to be heard and felt.
At last he said, “That… was not the problem I was expecting us to address.”
“No? What other problem would we be discussing, Bright? You unleashed a psychopath outfitted with highly volatile technology. You had him bomb an Egyptian palace. You attempted to disrupt a global peace accord. What did you think was going to happen? That you could do whatever you want and get away scot-free? That we’d just let bygones be bygones?”
Again Bright found himself biting back words of reprisal. Shaw was stepping over the line. Dangerously close to a red card.
“The other problem,” Bright said.
“You’re deflecting,” Shaw scoffed.
And then it hit him.
Oh-ho.
Shaw didn’t know.
Mr. Bright smiled with one corner of his mouth. “You have no idea, do you?”
“About what?” The director was beginning to sound exasperated.
“You don’t know,” he said slowly, “that he was there. In Egypt.”
To his credit, it only took Shaw a few moments to pick up what he was suggesting. “He… Zero?” After a few more moments: “No… no, it was my guys that stopped Krauss. They rescued Barkley. They…” He trailed off, putting it together.
Bright imagined there might have been steam coming from Shaw’s ears.
“Oh, did they not tell you?” Bright said in faux surprise. “Zero’s own former teammates didn’t bother to mention that he was there? Did they claim to have saved the day themselves?” Now it was Bright’s turn to scoff. “Come on, Shaw. He was there. He crashed the helicopter. He killed Krauss. And he’s out there. Alive.”
