LITMIR.BIZ

      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

       PROLOGUE

      Barbara Price opened her eyes.

      She awoke clearheaded and alert, knowing exactly where she was and what she needed to do. There was a war being fought in the shadows and like the ringmaster of a circus, she was at its epicenter. Her eyes went to the window of her bedroom. It was dark outside. She looked at the clock on her bedside table and saw she had been asleep for exactly forty-five minutes.

      Price sat up and pushed a slender hand through her honey-blond hair. She felt revitalized after her power nap, and with a single cup of Aaron “the Bear” Kurtzman’s coffee she knew she’d be ready to roll.

      She got up out of the bed, smoothed her clothes and picked up the copy of the Washington Post she had placed on her table before stepping into the upstairs hallway of Stony Man Farm’s main house. The headline screamed out at her.

      Colombian Businessman Busy Senator

      Marcos Sincanaros, renowned currency speculator, has been tied to campaign contributions exceeding five million dollars to Maryland Senator…

      Disgusted, Price stopped reading. She had too much on her mind at the moment to worry about Washington politics. She frowned. The name “Sincanaros” was familiar, however. She resolved to ask Akira Tokaido, one of the Farm’s computer wizards, to see if Stony Man had a file on the man.

      As Price walked down the hall, she began clicking through options and mentally categorizing her tasks. She had men in the field, preparing to step into harm’s way, and it was her responsibility to coordinate all the disparate parts into a seamless whole.

      The Farm’s mission controller was headed to the basement when the cell phone on her belt began to vibrate. She plucked it free and used the red push-talk button.

      “Price, here,” she said coolly.

      “Barb,” Carmen Delahunt began, “the teams are in jump-off mode.”

      “Thanks, Carm,” Price told the ex-FBI agent. “I’m almost in the tunnel now.”

      “See you in a minute,” Delahunt said.

      Price put her phone away, entered the tunnel that joined the main house to the Annex and got into the light electric rail car. The engine began to hum and the vehicle quickly picked up speed as it shot down the underground tunnel. Things were starting to click, to come together, and Price could feel the tingle she had first felt as a mission controller for long-range operations conducted by the National Security Agency. It had been there that she had made her bones in the intelligence business before being recruited by Hal Brognola to run logistics and support at the more covert Stony Man operation.

      Stony Man had operated as a clandestine antiterrorist operation since long before the infamous attacks of September 11 had put all of America’s military, intelligence and law-enforcement efforts on the same page. As such, it operated as it always had—under the direct control of the White House and separate from both the Joint Special Operations Command and the Directorate of National Intelligence.

      Stony Man had been given carte blanche to operate at peak efficiency, eliminating oversights and legalities in the name of pragmatic results. It also, perhaps most importantly, offered the U.S. government the ability to disavow any knowledge of operations that went badly. It was a brutal truth that if things turned wrong for the Stony Man action teams, Phoenix Force and Able Team, they would be left out in the cold.

      It was one of Barbara Price’s most sincere prayers that she would never be called upon to make the decision that left compromised operators hanging in the wind.

      She pushed aside the morose reflections as the electric car slowed and she exited the vehicle, then entered the Annex building after passing through security. Things were ready to go hot—she could not afford to be distracted now.

      As she stepped into the Computer Room, she was met by Aaron Kurtzman, the wheelchair-bound head of cybernetics at Stony Man Farm. The big man reached out and handed her a steaming mug of coffee. She eyed the ink-colored liquid dubiously.

      “Thanks, Aaron. That’s just what I’ve been missing. Something that can put hair on my chest.”

      “David called for Phoenix Force in Marseilles,” he said, grinning. “They’re set up to go in the hotel. Carl did the same for Able Team in Louisiana. They’re in the air and heading toward the target.”

      “Good,” Price said. She took a drink of the strong coffee and pulled a face. “Once we’re sure everything is unfolding, I’ll give Hal a call and he can pass the information on to the President.”

      Kurtzman glided over to his work area, where

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