The Death Trade
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Sean Dillon is back, and the world is at stake
An eminent Iranian scientist has made a startling breakthrough in nuclear weapons research, but he can’t stand the thought of his regime owning the bomb. He would run if he could, but if he does, his family dies. He is desperate, and he doesn’t know what to do.
It is up to Sean Dillon and the Prime Minister’s private army to think of a plan. Most particularly, it is up to their newest member, an intelligence captain and Afghan war hero named Sara Gideon, who thinks there just might be a way to pull it off.
But plans have a way of going awry. And as the operation races from Paris and Syria to Iran and the Saudi Arabian desert, the only certainty is that blood will be spilled.
him to Paris. What do you think?” “God help the chambermaids at the Ritz if you do. I’ve other things on my mind, like finding out who these people we were involved with tonight are. A name was mentioned, Ferguson. If he’s who I think he is, we need to know. I’ll borrow your office and computer to link into the embassy.” “Help yourself to what you need,” Khan said. “We’ll speak later. I must check on Yousef.” He went out. — As the cab turned a corner, Sara leaned against
moment I have anything.” “Does that apply to the Iranians, too?” Dillon asked. “I don’t see why not. But let me make one thing clear. I’ll bring in full DGSE powers, which supersede any police investigation. We go in hard, Dillon, you know that, possibly harder than any other Western power, and our Parliament usually supports us. So don’t call me, I’ll call you when I’m ready. Have a good night,” he added ironically, and was gone. “So what about Ferguson?” Sara asked. “He’ll raise the
waiters can play those, but I’m short a double bass player.” Dillon examined the piano. “Schiedmayer. Very nice. You don’t see these on the market much. Lovely tone.” He sat down and played a few chords. “It’s famous for always staying in tune.” Sara lifted the lid and propped it up. “Come on, Sean, let’s be having you.” “How about ‘I Get a Kick Out of You’? Does that send you?” “You’re too kind,” she said, pulled a stool forward as his hands moved into the intro, sat down, and
of Yousef’s most recent brush with the law and the way he and Rasoul had dropped out of sight. Having overheard the doctor’s conversation at the clinic, it was obvious that he should pass this tragic news on, too. But he was too early, with Rashid in Iran. He’d give it a while yet. — Back in her bedroom at the Paradise Club, Sara stripped, tossed her jumpsuit and underwear into a laundry basket, then stood under the hottest shower she could stand, washing the ship smell from her body,
he said. She explained what she’d been doing, and he nodded approvingly. “Nothing like being prepared.” “I thought I knew him, but there was a lot I didn’t,” she said. “What are you up to?” “Same thing, in a way. Having a look at his Iranian masters.” “That’s interesting,” she said. “Can I see?” “Of course you can. I’ll put them up in sequence. There’s the President. There’s the Council of Guardians, which enjoys a lot of influence.” “Who’s that man?” “Well, according