Endgame (1998) Read online

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Acknowledgements

  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

  EPILOGUE

  THE BESTSELLING NOVELS OF

  TOM CLANCY

  THE TEETH OF THE TIGER

  A new generation--Jack Ryan, Jr.--takes over in Tom Clancy's

  extraordinary, and extraordinarily prescient, novel.

  "INCREDIBLY ADDICTIVE." --Daily Mail (London)

  RED RABBIT

  Tom Clancy returns to Jack Ryan's early days--

  in an engrossing novel of global political drama . . .

  "A WILD, SATISFYING RIDE." --New York Daily News

  THE BEAR AND THE DRAGON

  A clash of world powers. President Jack Ryan's trial by fire.

  "HEART-STOPPING ACTION . . . CLANCY STILL REIGNS." --The Washington Post

  RAINBOW SIX

  John Clark is used to doing the CIA's dirty work.

  Now he's taking on the world . . .

  "ACTION-PACKED." --The New York Times Book Review

  EXECUTIVE ORDERS

  A devastating terrorist act leaves Jack Ryan

  as President of the United States . . .

  "UNDOUBTEDLY CLANCY'S BEST YET."

  --The Atlanta Journal-Constitution

  DEBT OF HONOR

  It begins with the murder of an American woman

  in the backstreets of Tokyo. It ends in war . . .

  "A SHOCKER." --Entertainment Weekly

  THE HUNT FOR RED OCTOBER

  The smash bestseller that launched Clancy's career--

  the incredible search for a Soviet defector

  and the nuclear submarine he commands . . .

  "BREATHLESSLY EXCITING." --The Washington Post

  RED STORM RISING

  The ultimate scenario for World War III--

  the final battle for global control . . .

  "THE ULTIMATE WAR GAME . . . BRILLIANT."

  --Newsweek

  PATRIOT GAMES

  CIA analyst Jack Ryan stops an assassination--

  and incurs the wrath of Irish terrorists . . .

  "A HIGH PITCH OF EXCITEMENT."

  --The Wall Street Journal

  THE CARDINAL OF THE KREMLIN

  The superpowers race for the ultimate Star Wars

  missile defense system . . .

  "CARDINAL EXCITES, ILLUMINATES . . . A REAL PAGE-TURNER." --Los Angeles Daily News

  CLEAR AND PRESENT DANGER

  The killing of three U.S. officials in Colombia ignites the

  American government's explosive, and top secret, response . . .

  "A CRACKLING GOOD YARN." --The Washington Post

  THE SUM OF ALL FEARS

  The disappearance of an Israeli nuclear weapon threatens the

  balance of power in the Middle East--and around the world . . .

  "CLANCY AT HIS BEST . . . NOT TO BE MISSED."

  --The Dallas Morning News

  WITHOUT REMORSE

  His code name is Mr. Clark. And his work for the CIA

  is brilliant, cold-blooded, and efficient . . . but who is he really?

  "HIGHLY ENTERTAINING." --The Wall Street Journal

  Novels by Tom Clancy

  THE HUNT FOR RED OCTOBER

  RED STORM RISING

  PATRIOT GAMES

  THE CARDINAL OF THE KREMLIN

  CLEAR AND PRESENT DANGER

  THE SUM OF ALL FEARS

  WITHOUT REMORSE

  DEBT OF HONOR

  EXECUTIVE ORDERS

  RAINBOW SIX

  THE BEAR AND THE DRAGON

  RED RABBIT

  THE TEETH OF THE TIGER

  SSN: STRATEGIES OF SUBMARINE WARFARE

  Nonfiction

  SUBMARINE: A GUIDED TOUR INSIDE A NUCLEAR WARSHIP

  ARMORED CAV: A GUIDED TOUR OF AN ARMORED CAVALRY REGIMENT

  FIGHTER WING: A GUIDED TOUR OF AN AIR FORCE COMBAT WING

  MARINE: A GUIDED TOUR OF A MARINE EXPEDITIONARY UNIT

  AIRBORNE: A GUIDED TOUR OF AN AIRBORNE TASK FORCE

  CARRIER: A GUIDED TOUR OF AN AIRCRAFT CARRIER

  SPECIAL FORCES: A GUIDED TOUR OF U.S. ARMY SPECIAL FORCES

  INTO THE STORM: A STUDY IN COMMAND

  (written with General Fred Franks, Jr., Ret., and Tony Koltz)

  EVERY MAN A TIGER

  (written with General Charles Horner, Ret., and Tony Koltz)

  SHADOW WARRIORS: INSIDE THE SPECIAL FORCES

  (written with General Carl Stiner, Ret., and Tony Koltz)

  BATTLE READY

  (written with General Tony Zinni, Ret., and Tony Koltz)

  TOM CLANCY'S GHOST RECON

  TOM CLANCY'S ENDWAR

  TOM CLANCY'S SPLINTER CELL

  SPLINTER CELL

  OPERATION BARRACUDA

  CHECK M ATE

  FALLOUT

  CONVICTION

  ENDGAME

  Created by Tom Clancy and Steve Pieczenik

  TOM CLANCY'S OP-CENTER

  OP-CENTER

  MIRROR IMAGE

  GAMES OF STATE

  ACTS OF WAR

  BALANCE OF POWER

  STATE OF SIEGE

  DIVIDE AND CONQUER

  LINE OF CONTROL

  MISSION OF HONOR

  SEA OF FIRE

  CALL TO TREASON

  WAR OF EAGLES

  TOM CLANCY'S NET FORCE

  NET FORCE

  HIDDEN AGENDAS

  NIGHT MOVES

  BREAKING POINT

  POINT OF IMPACT

  CYBER NATION

  STATE OF WAR

  CHANGING OF THE GUARD

  SPRINGBOARD

  THE ARCHIMEDES EFFECT

  Created by Tom Clancy and Martin Greenberg

  TOM CLANCY'S POWER PLAYS

  POLITIKA

  RUTHLESS.COM

  SHADOW WATCH

  BIO-STRIKE

  COLD WAR

  CUTTING EDGE

  ZERO HOUR

  WILD CARD

  THE BERKLEY PUBLISHING GROUP

  Published by the Penguin Group

  Penguin Group (USA) Inc.

  375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014, USA

  Penguin Group (Canada), 90 Eglinton Avenue East, Suite 700, Toronto, Ontario M4P 2Y3, Canada

  (a division of Pearson Penguin Canada Inc.)

  Penguin Books Ltd., 80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England

  Penguin Group Ireland, 25 St. Stephen's Green, Dublin 2, Ireland (a division of Penguin Books Ltd.)

  Penguin Group (Australia), 250 Camberwell Road, Camberwell, Victoria 3124, Australia

  (a division of Pearson Australia Group P
ty. Ltd.)

  Penguin Books India Pvt. Ltd., 11 Community Centre, Panchsheel Park, New Delhi--110 017, India

  Penguin Group (NZ), 67 Apollo Drive, Rosedale, North Shore 0632, New Zealand

  (a division of Pearson New Zealand Ltd.)

  Penguin Books (South Africa) (Pty.) Ltd., 24 Sturdee Avenue, Rosebank, Johannesburg 2196,

  South Africa

  Penguin Books Ltd., Registered Offices: 80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.

  TOM CLANCY'S SPLINTER CELL(r): ENDGAME

  A Berkley Book / published by arrangement with Ubisoft, Ltd.

  PRINTING HISTORY

  Berkley premium edition / December 2009

  Copyright (c) 2009 by Ubisoft, Ltd.

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author's rights. Purchase only authorized editions.

  For information, address: The Berkley Publishing Group,

  375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014.

  eISBN : 978-1-101-15176-1

  BERKLEY(r)

  Berkley Books are published by The Berkley Publishing Group,

  a division of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.,

  375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014.

  BERKLEY(r) is a registered trademark of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.

  The "B" design is a trademark of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.

  http://us.penguingroup.com

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  The author gratefully acknowledges the support and cooperation of the following individuals:

  Grant Blackwood, for his collaboration, creativity, and great sense of humor.

  Vietnam veteran and retired chief warrant officer James Ide, for his considerable technical experience, research assistance, and unceasing passion.

  Jackie Fiest, for her proofreading, enthusiasm, and technical knowledge of the Splinter Cell universe.

  Tom Colgan, for his continued support and encouragement as editor of these books.

  Sam Strachman, for his trust and belief in the Splinter Cell book franchise and caretaking of its ideas.

  Tom Clancy, for creating a body of work that continues to inspire readers and writers everywhere.

  PROLOGUE

  KORFOVKA, RUSSIAN FEDERATION NEAR THE CHINESE BORDER EIGHTEEN MONTHS AGO

  THE first blow loosened one of Ben Hansen's molars and sent his head wrenching to one side.

  Captured . . . killed . . .

  He never saw the second blow, only felt Rugar's pointed knuckles drive into his left eye.

  Captured . . . killed . . .

  Hansen's head whipped back, then lolled forward as warm blood spilled down his chin.

  Now Rugar's screams grew incomprehensible, like panes of glass shattering across the hangar's concrete floor.

  Make no mistake. If you're captured, you will be killed.

  Hansen tugged at the plastic flex-cuffs cutting into his wrists and binding him to the chair. He finally mustered the energy to face Rugar, who loomed there, a neckless, four-hundred-pound, vodka-soaked beast crowned by an old Soviet Army ushanka two sizes too small for his broad head. He was about fifty, twice Hansen's age, and hardly agile, but at the moment that hardly mattered.

  Rugar opened his mouth, exposing a jagged fence of yellowed teeth. He shouted and more glass shattered, accompanied by the rattling of two enormous steel doors that had been rolled shut against the wind.

  Hansen shivered. It was below freezing now, and their breaths hung heavy in the air. At least the dizziness from the anesthetic was beginning to wear off. He tried to blink, but his left eye did not respond; it was swelling shut.

  And then--a flash from Rugar's hand.

  Captured . . . killed . . .

  The fat man had confiscated Hansen's knife.

  But that wasn't just any knife--it was a Fairbairn Sykes World War II-era commando dagger that had once belonged to the elusive Sam Fisher, a Splinter Cell few people knew but whose exploits were legendary among them.

  Rugar leaned over and held the blade before Hansen's face. He spoke more slowly, and the words, though still Russian, finally made sense: "We know why you've come. Now, if you tell me what I need to know, you will live."

  Hansen took a deep breath. "You won't break me."

  For a moment Rugar just stood there, his cheeks swelling like melons as he labored for his next breath. Suddenly he smiled, his rank breath coming hard in Hansen's face. "It's going to be a long night for both of us."

  Rugar's left ear was pierced, and the gold hoop hanging there caught the overhead lights at such an angle that for a moment all Hansen noticed were those flashes of gold. He realized only after the blood spattered onto his face that Rugar had been shot in the head, the round coming from a suppressed weapon somewhere behind them.

  All four hundred pounds of the fat man collapsed onto Hansen, snapping off the chair's back legs as the knife went skittering across the floor. Hansen now bore the Russian's full weight across his chest, and he wasn't sure which would kill him first: suffocation or the sickly sweet stench emanating from Rugar's armpits.

  With a groan, he shoved himself against the fat man's body and began worming his way out, gasping, grimacing, and a heartbeat away from retching.

  He rolled onto his side and squinted across the hangar, toward the pair of helicopters and the shadows along the perimeter wall and mechanics' stations.

  And then he appeared, Sergei Luchenko, Hansen's runner. The gaunt-faced man was still wearing his long coat and gripping his pistol with its large suppressor. An unlit cigarette dangled from his thin lips.

  Hansen sighed deeply. "What happened? Why didn't you answer my calls?" He groaned over the question. "Strike that. I'm just glad you're here."

  Sergei walked up to Hansen, withdrew a lighter from his breast pocket, and lit his cigarette.

  "How about some help?" Hansen struggled against the flex-cuffs.

  "I'm sorry, my friend. They sent me to kill you."

  "Bad joke."

  "It's no joke."

  Hansen stiffened. "Not you, Sergei."

  "I don't have a choice."

  Hansen closed his good eye, then spoke through his teeth. "Then why did you save me?"

  "I didn't. The kill must be mine. And . . . I didn't want you to suffer."

  "This is not who you are."

  "I'm sorry." Sergei drew a compact digital video camera from his pocket and hit the RECORD button. He held it close to Hansen. "You see, he is alive. And now . . ." Sergei raised his pistol.

  Hansen cursed at the man.

  There would be no life story flashing before Hansen's eyes; no images of his youth growing up in Fort Stockton, Texas; no scenes from his days at MIT, which he had attended on a full scholarship; no moments from that bar with the director, Anna "Grim" Grimsdottir, who had recruited him out of the CIA to join Third Echelon and become one of the world's most effective field operatives--a Splinter Cell. No, there would be nothing as dramatic or cinematic as that--just a hot piece of lead piercing his forehead, fracturing his skull, and burying itself deep in his brain before he had a chance to think about it.

  The gun thumped. Hansen flinched.

  And then . . . Sergei collapsed sideways onto the concrete, a gaping hole in the back of his head.

  Hansen swore again, this time in relief. He squinted into the shadows at the far end of the hangar. "Uh, thank you?"

  No reply.

  He raised his voice. "Who are you?"


  Again, just the wind . . .

  He lay there a few seconds more, just breathing, waiting for his savior to show himself.

  One last time. "Who are you?"

  Hansen's voice trailed off into the howling wind and creaking hangar doors. He lay there for another two minutes.

  No one came.

  Tensing, he wriggled on his side, drawing closer to his knife, which was lying just a meter away. He reached the blade, turned it over in his hand, and began to slowly, painfully, saw into the flex-cuffs.

  When he was free, he stood and collected himself, his face still swelling, the hangar dipping as though floating on rough seas. And then, blinking his good eye to clarity, he lifted his gaze to the rafters, the crossbeams, the pipes, and still . . . nothing. He turned back to the bodies and shook his head in pity at Sergei. Then he glowered at the fat man, who even in death would get the last laugh, since disposing of his body would be like manhandling a dead Russian circus bear.

  There was still a lot of work to do, but all the while Hansen couldn't help but feel the heat of someone's gaze on his shoulders.

  He shouted again, "Who are you?"

  Only his echo answered.

  1

  HOLMES OFFICE COMPLEX HOUSTON, TEXAS PRESENT DAY

  MAYA Valentina saw it in the man's gaze, which flicked down from her low-cut blouse to her well-tanned legs to her feet jammed into a pair of stilettos. She tossed back her hair, which fell in golden waves across her shoulders, then put an index finger to her lips, as though to nervously bite her nail. Oh, yes, he liked the shy schoolgirl routine, and Valentina could pass for a freshman, too, though she was nearly twenty-eight.