To my publishers, past and present-

Carolyn Reidy, Judith Curr, Louise Burke, Jack Romanos

and

In memory of Kent Mosher

AS always, to the two people who guide me through this process every year-Emily Bestler and Sloan Harris, my editor and my agent. To David Brown, the best publicist in the business. To Sarah Branham and Laura Stern, for polishing things up and making sure the trains run on time. To Jeanne Lee and the Art Department, for once again patiently listening to everyone’s opinion. To Al Madocs, sorry I did it to you again this year. To Michael Selleck and the S&S sales force, for doing an amazing job in a tough market. Kristyn Keene, Niki Castle, and Molly Rosenbaum, for all of your hard work and much-needed levity.

To Rob Richer, a good friend and someone to whom this country owes a great debt. To Edward Shoppman and Dennis Finnegan, for the new hardware. To Larry Nevin, Tim Flynn, and Bill Beaudette, for setting things up. To Dr. Jodi Bakkegard-we are lucky to have you in our lives. To all those who choose to remain in the shadows, thank you. To all those whom I may have forgotten, my sincere apologies.

To my amazing wife, Lysa, after ten years, you still take my breath away.

NEW YORK CITY

IT was nearing ten o’clock in the evening when Mitch Rapp decided it was time to move. He stepped from the sedan into the April night, popped his umbrella, clutched the collar of his black trench coat, and set out across a rain-soaked East Twentieth Street. He navigated the puddles and swollen gutter without complaint. The weather was a blessing. Not only did it clear the streets of potential witnesses, it also gave him a reasonable excuse to hide his face from the city’s ever-increasing array of security cameras.