The Hunted
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Acknowledgements
Epigraph
ONE
TWO
THREE
FOUR
FIVE
SIX
SEVEN
EIGHT
NINE
TEN
ELEVEN
TWELVE
THIRTEEN
FOURTEEN
FIFTEEN
SIXTEEN
SEVENTEEN
EIGHTEEN
NINETEEN
TWENTY
TWENTY-ONE
TWENTY-TWO
TWENTY-THREE
TWENTY-FOUR
TWENTY-FIVE
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
Dead or Alive
(written with Grant Blackwood)
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 Chuck 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 HAWX
Tom Clancy’s Ghost Recon
Tom Clancy’s EndWar
EndWar
The Hunted
Tom Clancy’s Splinter Cell
Splinter Cell
Operation Barracuda
Checkmate
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
CyberNation
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 ORL, 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 Pty. 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., Register
ed Offices: 80 Strand, London WC2R ORL, 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 ENDWAR™: THE HUNTED
A Berkley Book / published by arrangement with Ubisoft Ltd.
PRINTING HISTORY
Berkley premium edition / February 2011
Copyright © 2011 by Ubisoft Ltd.
EndWar, Ubisoft, and the Ubisoft logo are trademarks of Ubisoft in the U.S. and other countries. Tom Clancy’s EndWar © 2010 by Ubisoft Entertainment, S.A.
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, a division of Penguin Group (USA) Inc., 375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014.
eISBN : 978-1-101-47783-0
BERKLEY®
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® 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 would like to thank a wonderful group of family members, friends, colleagues, and supporters. In particular, Mr. Tom Clancy and all of the folks at Ubisoft who created the EndWar game deserve my gratitude, as well as the following individuals:
Mr. Sam Strachman of Longtail Studios helped me create this story from the ground up, working from brainstorming to outlining to final draft manuscript. His contributions are greatly appreciated and invaluable.
Mr. James Ide served as our primary researcher and story expert. He scrutinized every page, relying on his extensive military background, his keen writing skills, and his commitment to this story to provide criticism, advice, and suggestions that greatly improved the manuscript.
Ms. Jackie Fiest graciously volunteered to serve as our first reader and provide her reactions and sharp eyes as a proofreader.
Mr. Tom Colgan is simply the keenest and most supportive editor an author could have, and I’m fortunate to have worked with him on many projects.
Nancy, Lauren, and Kendall Telep know quite well why they are mentioned here.
I will kill the president of the Russian Federation.
I will bring down the motherland. And then I will
stand back and watch it all burn.
—VIKTORIA ANTSY FOROV, AKA “THE SNOW MAIDEN”
PROLOGUE
San Fernando Valley
Los Angeles, California
2009
Alexander Brent dropped into sixth gear and studied the digital head-up display glowing in his windshield:
116 mph and climbing.
The Corvette’s short throw shifter felt warm, while the 505-horsepower LS7 engine roared its demand for more fuel and pinned him to the sport seat.
Streetlights and shop windows blurred by in a kaleidoscope of reds and blues and greens.
Taking his cue from the car, Brent jabbed his foot on the accelerator pedal, and the beast leapt forward across the rain-slick pavement, the scent of burning rubber still wafting up into the black leather cockpit.
Just a few minutes ago he’d come off the mark in a massive burnout, reaching sixty miles per hour in just 3.7 seconds. For a few heartbeats he’d lost control, the rear tires hopping, the back end swinging out until the traction control system engaged. He wasn’t used to this. In fact, this was not him at all.
He tensed. Would he hit 120 ... 130 mph down this municipal street? Would he dare go 150 mph? It was a Sunday night, 11:50 P.M., and there were still a few other vehicles on the road, although the sidewalks looked clear of pedestrians. How fast would his rage take him?
He kept a white-knuckled grip on the steering wheel with both hands. There was no more shifting to do; it was pedal to the metal, and the future would unfold.
He flicked his gaze to the right and saw Villanueva’s door just a few feet away, both Corvettes neck and neck now, their Borla exhaust systems thundering as they raced up the four-lane road.
Carlos Villanueva was just eighteen, the same age as Brent, and they were seniors at Northridge Academy High. They had never spoken to each other until Brent had rolled into the school parking lot with his Corvette. Brent had inherited the Vette from an uncle who’d passed away, and from that day on Villanueva had been challenging Brent to a street race, going so far as to follow him, harass him at every intersection, cut him off, and even show up at Brent’s doorstep, waiting for him to leave in the car. Villanueva had an older Vette, a yellow 2003 Z06 that he and his brother, Tomas, had heavily modified to boost the car’s horsepower. They called Brent’s car “the blue devil” and vowed to send him and the vehicle straight back to hell.
Villanueva’s harassment was brutal, unrelenting, and he even enlisted his gang buddies to threaten Brent, telling him he’d better not drive the car unless he was willing to race. As Brent quickly learned, you can’t hide a jet-stream-blue Corvette very well in traffic; it tends to stand out. The bullying became so fierce that for a while Brent stopped driving the car, opting to walk or hop on his bike to school.
Admittedly, an eighteen-year-old kid behind the wheel of a fifty-thousand-dollar sports car would draw some animosity and jealousy; in fact, his father, a successful city engineer with ties to local and state government, had warned him about that, but Brent had had no idea it would come to this.
Villanueva’s bullying crossed the line on the night of Brent’s senior prom. Brent had picked up his date and they’d had a great time, but then, on his way back to drop her off, Villanueva had shown up and had forced Brent onto the shoulder as they’d descended Laurel Canyon Boulevard’s tortuous series of switchbacks and hairpin turns. Brent missed the guardrails by inches, pulled over, and bolted out of the car, only to watch as Villanueva flashed him the bird and squealed off.
“I can’t take this anymore,” he told his girlfriend.
“Then do something about it.”
Two days later, as Brent was returning from a late movie, Villanueva pulled up beside him at a streetlight. Brent glanced over—and a mental switch was thrown.
Villanueva sat there, revving his engine, his evil eyes sparkling, his shaven head and the tattoos spidering over his forearms suggesting he’d spent a lifetime in prison while he was really just a punk.
Brent had taken a long breath. Enough. He was going to dust this bastard once and for all. And when they were finished, maybe Villanueva would bow out like a man and stop the BS games. Maybe this fool would realize that driving a fast car did not make you a man.
Yet now, the faster they drove and the more they challenged each other, the more Brent realized that if he lost this race, he’d never live it down; Villanueva would never get off his back. The bullying would grow even worse because Brent would be the loser who got dusted. Winning meant he’d be free of this bastard forever.
Or so he’d thought.
As part of its modification package, Villanueva’s Corvette was equipped with a nitrous oxide system, or NOS, that allowed the engine to burn more fuel and air. He suddenly boosted away, pulling a full car length ahead of Brent, who, seeing this, reacted with more acceleration.
121, 122, 123 mph ...
There had been long stretches between intersections, but now they rocketed into a much busier part of town, with cross streets coming in five-secon
d intervals.
A string of green lights gleamed overhead, but then a small commuter car pulled onto the road far ahead, blocking Villanueva’s lane. The two lanes for oncoming traffic were empty, so Brent rolled the wheel, taking himself across the road, allowing Villanueva to take his lane so they could both pass the car. This was a tacit understanding between street racers that Brent knew about but had never practiced.
They whooshed past the unsuspecting driver, who saw only blue and yellow streaks from the corner of his eye and whose car shook violently from their passing.
In unison, Brent and Villanueva cut back into their lanes.
125 mph ...
Brent’s mouth fell open as he once more checked Villanueva’s position: perfectly aligned with him.
The dotted yellow lines were a continuous ribbon, and the apartment buildings that walled in both sides of the road squeezed tighter as sheer acceleration made the road appear more narrow. Brent was now one with the machine, and he’d never felt anything more powerful and invigorating. There was no other adrenaline rush like it. At the same time, his shoulders knotted in terror because he knew just the slightest deviation in his course or sudden obstacle in his path could end it all. He drove along a cliff between pure terror and utter joy.
During the winter months in Los Angeles, when those precious rains most often occurred, a year’s worth of oil would begin to bubble up through the pavement. So as they crossed the next intersection, Brent felt the rear wheels begin to drift, and he realized with a start that they’d hit a large patch of oil and blasted over it, but now their wide race tires had grown slick.