Ghosts of War (41 page)

T
alking into a speakerphone centered on the conference table, Kurt Hale said, “Have you lost your damn mind?”

George Wolffe hid a smile, waiting on what that lunatic Pike Logan would say next. The voice came out tinny, but the request was valid.

“Sir, you said if I saved the world, I could have a beer with the president at a location of my choosing.”

“Yeah, we were just bullshitting. And anyway, I thought you meant coming over to the White House or something. Not in Charleston.”

“It's
my
choosing, and he's running through the damn state campaigning. He's coming to Charleston anyway.”

“Pike, he's busy trying to win election to the highest office in the land.”

“How's that going anyway? I haven't seen the news.”

Kurt recognized the deception immediately. Pike knew very well how the campaign was going. President Hannister was leading in every single poll, crushing all opponents. The
Washington Post
had written an exposé on the crisis, and Hannister's actions were being held up as a cross between JFK at the Bay of Pigs, showing strength in the face of overwhelming domestic military opposition, and JFK during the Cuban Missile Crisis, showing strength against an existential threat and making nuanced decisions in the face of potential nuclear conflagration.

And the JFK theme was resonating on both sides of the aisle.

Kurt refused to bite, saying, “He's doing pretty well.”

“Really? I wonder why that is?”

George laughed. Pike said, “And what about us? The Taskforce?”

Kurt knew what he was asking. “Okay, Pike, so you've heard.”

“Heard what?”

Kurt looked at George with an expression that said,
Do I really have to put up with this arrogance?

George grinned and said, “Yes, you do.”

From the phone, Pike said, “What was that? George, did you say something?”

Kurt said, “Pike, the president greatly appreciates what you've accomplished. In fact, he called the Oversight Council together and chastised them for their reticence in using the Taskforce. It was a complete turnaround. We're back in business, at least until the election. Like I'm sure you know.”

He heard “Yeah, I know. I happen to have his son on my team, and he gave me a quote from the old man: ‘Out of all the elements of power that I wield, only one had the ability to preserve the security of this nation.' Is that true? Did he say that?”

Kurt wondered how Hannister's son knew what had been said in a classified meeting of the Oversight Council, but said, “Yeah, he said that.”

“Okay, I'm just wondering how all of those accolades don't translate into a beer in Charleston when he comes through.”

Kurt exhaled and said, “You're really testing me.”

“I think we've earned it.”

Kurt looked at George, who said, “Can't hurt to ask.”

Pike said, “Yeah, sir. What's the harm in asking? From what I hear, you're his right-hand man now.”

Kurt bristled, saying, “I don't want to hear that shit, you understand?”

Pike said, “Whoa. Touchy. Sorry.”

George hit the mute button and said, “You know, they really
do
deserve it. It's the least he could do, and he'd probably jump at the chance. The Taskforce is like his praetorian guard now.”

Kurt unmuted the phone and said, “I'll see what I can do, Pike.”

“Sounds good, sir. It'll be at the Windjammer on the Isle of Palms. You just tell me when. Let the president know there'll be a couple of Israelis in attendance.”

Kurt started to respond and realized that Pike had hung up before he could. He looked at George and said, “That guy is the bane of my existence.”

George laughed and said, “That guy is the
reason
you exist.”

P
eople ask me all the time where the ideas from my books come from, and usually, they're from interesting news reports—tidbits that catch my eye, leading me to dig down. This time, it was a really obscure story, because I was desperate.

I was on a security contract and had just typed the final correction on the copyedits for
The Forgotten Soldier
when I received an e-mail from my editor politely asking for the title and plot of my next book. I literally had no earthly idea. I knew two things: One, I wanted to move away from Islamic terrorism, and two, I wanted to bring back Shoshana and Aaron. I remembered a strange story I'd read about a motorcycle gang in Russia that had fought in Crimea and something about a Russian gas company with mob ties. Since I had limited connectivity at my location and seriously constrained available time due to the contract, I shot my wife an e-mail asking her to do some research and then went to my day job. By the time I'd returned to the barracks, she'd completed her research, and it was a doozy.

She sent me a data dump on the Night Wolves and Gazprom Industries—both real entities—and they had done things that made a fiction writer like me shake his head because nobody would believe it if I'd have made it up. And there was one cool tidbit: A guy named Semion Mogilevich owned a majority of the gas lines coming out of Russia—and he was one of the biggest mob bosses on the planet, having hit our own FBI top ten list. The capstone? He was a dual Russian–Israeli citizen. The story began to write itself.

This being the tenth book, I decided to go big. Forget about a
single terrorist attack. What about taking on the fault line of the old Iron Curtain? And so my wife and I were off to Eastern Europe. Once again, I'm indebted to her for coordinating the entire trip—yes, I made her drive all over Poland. She might need it operationally one day. . . .

For the background and set pieces of Bratislava, I'm indebted to Mgr. Denisa V., a local national who took us all over the city, including finding some pretty neat pubs and giving some unique insight that would never have been discovered on the Internet (like the fact that the parking garage next to the US Embassy had to relocate its entrance after 9/11).

Ksiaz Castle is real, of course, as is Project Riese. Unfortunately, the only way for a person to see the tunnels is through a paid tour guide—and the only tour guide they had spoke no English. So, we took a two-hour group tour of the castle listening to some guy drone on and on in Polish, having not a clue what was being said, but eventually I got to explore the tunnels on my own. The elevator shaft that Pike and Shoshana use in the book is real, and I probably could have included some serious history as to why it was behind a bookshelf, but I have no idea what that guy was saying. . . .

The fabled “gold/ghost” train (depending on who's writing the story) is real as well. So far, it's amounted to nothing but rumors and legends, but it might be found someday.

While on the surface the Marines and Army would appear similar, there are distinct differences, and I'm indebted to Neil S. for giving me some insight into a Marine LAV platoon. A Mustang himself, he stood up MARSOC and was the commander of the first MARSOC Battalion, with an interesting history involving more than just the Marine Corps. As such, he also helped me with the unclassified reorganization of the CIA, including their new “Mission Centers.”

I'm indebted to Joe M. (yeah, try to figure out what that letter stands for) for working with me on the airfield seizure scene. A close
friend and veteran of the 1st Ranger Battalion, he's done just about every job on an airfield seizure in between deployments to combat, and he provided insight that I would have never gotten accurate on operational template, airflow, and, most important, the RCT. It's a skill that the Rangers have perfected like no one else on earth, and they continue to perfect it even as they serve in harm's way in distant lands. Any mistakes, of course, are mine alone. Oh, and Joe M. isn't a private first class in real life.

This publication marks the mighty 10th Dutton title for me. A milestone I never would have imagined possible when I typed the first (long since deleted) sentence for
One Rough Man
. Through it all, I have had nothing but support and professionalism from the Dutton team. From my editors, Ben Sevier and Jessica Renheim; to my publicist, Liza Cassity; to Carrie Swetonic in marketing. From day one, the team—along with my agent, John Talbot—has worked tirelessly to assure the success of the Pike Logan series. I can't thank all of you enough for your work ethic and
dedication.

Brad Taylor, Lieutenant Colonel (ret.),
is a twenty-one-year veteran of the U.S. Army Infantry and Special Forces, including eight years with the 1st Special Forces Operational Detachment—Delta, popularly known as the Delta Force. Taylor retired in 2010 after serving more than two decades and participating in Operation Enduring Freedom and Operation Iraqi Freedom, as well as classified operations around the globe. His final military post was as Assistant Professor of Military Science at the Citadel. His first nine Pike Logan thrillers were
New York Times
bestsellers. He lives in Charleston, South Carolina.

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