Zero Day: A Novel by Mark Russinovich;Howard Schmidt

Author:Mark Russinovich;Howard Schmidt
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: Cyberterrorism, Bisacsh, Suspense fiction, Technological, Technological., FICTION, Suspense, Thrillers., Thrillers, Men's Adventure, Espionage
ISBN: 9780312612467
Publisher: Macmillan
Published: 2011-03-15T00:00:00+00:00

31

LONDON, UNITED KINGDOM

SOUTH LAUREL ROAD

THURSDAY, AUGUST 24

7:09 A.M.

Brian Manfield awoke with a start.

He’d slept with his window undraped so that the first rays of the rising sun flooded the small room with light. He hated alarm clocks, though one was set on the stand beside his bed. He reached across the naked back of the young woman and switched it off.

In the bathroom Manfield turned on the shower and, as he waited for the water to warm, urinated at great length in the toilet. Finished, he climbed into the shower, where he washed and shaved. Six feet two inches tall, weighing 185 pounds, Manfield was fit and worked to stay that way. With thick dark hair and deep blue eyes inherited from his mother, he was exceptionally handsome. After toweling off, he slipped on a robe he’d acquired at the Carlyle in Manhattan, then went to the kitchen for his usual breakfast of fruit, toast, marmalade, and tea.

Outside was one of those sparkling days London sees too rarely. He carried his breakfast onto his balcony and ate standing up, taking in the expanse of the old city. He loved London. He’d spent most of his adult life here and couldn’t imagine living anywhere else.

In the kitchen he carefully washed the dishes in the sink, then set them to drain. Back in the bedroom he meticulously dressed in a startling white broadcloth shirt with striped tie and a nearly black Anderson & Sheppard suit from Savile Row. Finally, he slipped on the black banker’s shoes he preferred.

Caroline Bynum stirred in the bed as he slipped on his gold Rolex. Not yet twenty years old, born with more money than God, she was crazy about him, still in the early bloom of the relationship.

“Caro,” he said quietly. “I have to leave now. Take your time. Lock up when you go, there’s a dear. I’ll call later today when I’m free.” The young woman gave a grunt, then lapsed into deep sleep. Manfield smiled, took his cell phone from on top of the dresser, and slipped it into his jacket pocket.

It was just a ten-minute walk to his office. On such a beautiful day, he never considered driving or taking a taxi. Arriving five minutes early, he greeted the receptionist, then went straight to his office, where he perused the Financial Times as he had another cup of tea. Then he checked his e-mail, dashed off four replies, and settled in with the newspaper.

Special Applications Security, or SAS as it was known, had been created twenty years before by two former Special Air Service operatives who selected the name for its meaningful initials. Five years earlier they’d sold the lucrative international company to Lanson Security, one of the UK’s oldest security companies. SAS had, however, been largely untouched by the transition. The company specialized in security measures and hardware for private companies and small governments worldwide. The former manager had been named president of the company and business had gone on as before.

Manfield had worked at SAS for just over three years and was considered the company’s brightest star.

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