Robert Ludlum's (TM) the Treadstone Rendition by Hood Joshua

Author:Hood, Joshua [Hood, Joshua]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: thriller
ISBN: 9781803285825
Amazon: 1803285826
Goodreads: 123676669
Publisher: Head of Zeus
Published: 2023-04-04T07:00:00+00:00

25

Eagle Base

Kabul, Afghanistan

The phone rang at last, a few minutes past nine in the evening, jolting Dominic Porter out of the haze he’d been comfortably wallowing in since popping the Tramadol sometime before sunset.

Rubbing his eyes, he rolled over in his bed. Reached for the phone on the night table, already anticipating the voice on the other end of the line. Already savoring the good news.

“This is Porter,” he said. “Did it happen?”

He’d returned to Eagle Base after meeting Mohammed Ghul, found himself with nothing to do but wait. Wait, and watch the Agency pack up and prepare to abandon ship, the base already a ghost town and growing emptier by the hour.

Wait, and try not to think about the man he’d sacrificed to Ghul in order to guarantee what he’d done in Maidan Wardak would never make it Stateside.

He’d driven back to Eagle Base from the meeting alone, though that old Land Cruiser already felt full of ghosts. Though he could still feel Ikram’s presence around him, smell the driver’s sweat. Could still see the look of confusion, and then desperation, on his face when he’d realized that Porter wasn’t going to save him. The terror as he’d stared down the barrel of Porter’s gun.

Porter had closed his eyes when he’d pulled the trigger, but he’d known he would see Ikram’s face anyway, seared into the backs of his eyelids. Hear the commando’s screams echoing in his mind for the rest of his life.

The war would be over soon. Abdul Nassim would be dead, and Porter could go back to America clean. Go home and sleep for a month and forget everything, return to the person he’d been before he could even find Kabul on a map, but about a million dollars richer.

Except he couldn’t sleep. Couldn’t close his eyes without hearing those screams. Only the Tramadol helped, and just barely, sending him into a stupor that at least shut his mind down for a couple of hours. It was the best he could manage right now. But this phone call, Porter knew, was about to change everything.

On the other end of the line, Muhammed Ghul coughed. “We were not successful,” he said.

Porter blinked. Tried to clear his head of the opioid haze. Wondered if he was dreaming, if this was some kind of nightmare. “What do you mean?” he asked. “Nassim had to be there. The intelligence—”

“Was correct,” Ghul interrupted. “But the family escaped us.”

“E-escaped you.” Now, Porter wanted to throw up. “Well, find them.”

“We are trying. My men are patrolling the highways as we speak. We have interrogated every one of the neighbors and extracted very little useful information. Nobody seems able to tell us where they will go next.”

“It’s an old man and a couple of kids,” Porter said. “I’ve paid a huge price for you to get this job done. Failure is not acceptable; do you understand?”

“You will get what you’re paying for,” Ghul replied. “I assure you; we are not finished looking. They cannot stay hidden forever.

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