The First Commandment: A Thriller Read online

  “QUITE POSSIBLY THE NEXT COMING OF ROBERT LUDLUM.”—Chicago Tribune

  When the president of the United States is blackmailed into releasing five detainees from Guantanamo Bay, a sadistic assassin with a vendetta years in the making is reactivated. Suddenly, the people closest to counterterrorism operative Scot Harvath are being targeted and he realizes that somehow, somewhere he has left the wrong person alive. With his life plunged into absolute peril, and the president ordering him to stay out of the investigation, Harvath must mount his own covert plan for revenge—and in so doing will uncover shattering revelations about the organizations and the nation he has spent his life serving.

  THE FIRST COMMANDMENT

  From the author of Blowback—one of NPR’s top 100 “Killer Thrillers” of all time!

  “A MUST-READ FOR OUR TIMES!”

  —James Rollins, New York Times bestselling author

  Includes an excerpt from Brad Thor’s The Athena Project

  ATRIA BOOKS

  MEET THE AUTHORS, WATCH VIDEOS AND MORE AT

  SimonandSchuster.com

  THE SOURCE FOR READING GROUPS

  BRAD THOR has served as a member of the Department of Homeland Security’s Analytic Red Cell Program and is the #1 New York Times bestselling author of nine Scot Harvath thrillers, including The First Commandment, The Last Patriot, The Apostle, and Foreign Influence. He begins a new series with his most recent thriller, The Athena Project.

  Visit www.BradThor.com.

  Also by Brad Thor

  The Lions of Lucerne

  Path of the Assassin

  State of the Union

  Blowback

  Takedown

  The First Commandment

  The Last Patriot

  The Apostle

  Foreign Influence

  The Athena Project

  Full Black

  Black List

  From The Lions of Lucerne to Foreign Influence, Brad Thor’s Scot Harvath series delivers “high voltage entertainment reminiscent of Robert Ludlum” (Library Journal). While keeping readers riveted with heart-pounding suspense, the #1 New York Times bestselling author is also “changing the scope of the espionage novel in today’s world (Tampa Tribune).

  Praise for

  FOREIGN INFLUENCE

  Named One of the Best Political Thrillers of 2010 by Suspense Magazine

  “Frightening, illuminating, and entertaining. … If you’re not hyperventilating once you’ve reached the last page, then you weren’t paying attention.”

  —Bookreporter.com

  “Intrigue, adventure, and adrenaline-rushing action. …”

  —New American Truth

  “Pulse-pounding.”

  —International Thriller Writers, Inc.

  THE APOSTLE

  “Blasts off like a guided missile and never slows down. … Brad Thor rocks!”

  —Tess Gerritsen, New York Times bestselling author of Ice Cold

  “An out-of-the-ballpark home run. You won’t want to put it down.”

  —Blackwater Tactical Weekly

  “Powerful and convincing. … A breathtaking, edge-of-your-seat experience.”

  —National Terror Alert.com

  More acclaim for Brad Thor’s bestsellers featuring Scot Harvath, “the perfect all-American hero for the post–September 11th world” (Nelson DeMille)

  THE LAST PATRIOT

  “A thriller to die for.”

  —Glenn Beck

  “As close to a perfect thriller as you’ll ever find. … Brilliantly plotted and ingeniously conceived.”

  —Providence Journal-Bulletin (RI)

  “Wow, this guy can write.”

  —The Atlanta Journal-Constitution

  THE FIRST COMMANDMENT

  “An intelligent, sizzling adventure full of international intrigue.”

  —Wilmington Morning Star (NC)

  “An adrenaline-charged thriller. … Brad Thor knows how to excite the senses.”

  —Steve Berry, New York Times bestselling author of The Emperor’s Tomb

  TAKEDOWN

  “[Like] the TV show 24 and other high-octane thrillers, Takedown is crisp and cinematic, with … gun-blazing, gut-busting action.”

  —The Tennessean

  “Enthralling. … A smart, explosive work that details events about to happen outside your front door.”

  —Bookreporter.com

  “Exciting … frightening. … [A] masterpiece.”

  —Midwest Book Review

  BLOWBACK

  “Haunting, high-voltage. … One of the best thriller writers in the business.”

  —Ottawa Citizen

  “An incredible international thriller. … Riveting and superior.”

  —Brunei Press Syndicate

  STATE OF THE UNION

  “Frighteningly real.”

  —Ottawa Citizen

  “[A] blistering, testosterone-fueled espionage thriller.”

  —Publishers Weekly

  PATH OF THE ASSASSIN

  “Brad Thor is as current as tomorrow’s headlines.”

  —Dan Brown

  “The action is relentless, the pacing sublime.”

  —Ottawa Citizen

  THE LIONS OF LUCERNE

  “Fast-paced, scarily authentic—I just couldn’t put it down.”

  —Vince Flynn

  “A hot read for a winter night. … Bottom line: Lions roars.”

  —People

  Brad Thor’s titles are also available from Simon & Schuster Audio

  Thank you for purchasing this Atria Books eBook.

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  ATRIA BOOKS

  A Division of Simon & Schuster, Inc.

  1230 Avenue of the Americas

  New York, NY 10020

  www.SimonandSchuster.com

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Copyright © 2007 by Brad Thor

  All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever. For information, address Atria Books Subsidiary Rights Department, 1230 Avenue of the Americas, New York, NY 10020.

  This Pocket Books paperback edition May 2011

  ATRIA BOOKS and colophon are registered trademarks of Simon & Schuster, Inc.

  The Simon & Schuster Speakers Bureau can bring authors to your live event. For more information or to book an event contact the Simon & Schuster Speakers Bureau at 1-866-248-3049 or visit our website at www.simonspeakers.com.

  Cover design by Jae Song

  Image © Maurice Savage/Alamy

  ISBN 978-1-4516-3566-9

  ISBN 978-1-4165-5131-7 (eBook)

  For Scott F. Hill, Ph.D.—a dedicated patriot who has put love of country and love of family above all else

  De inimico non loquaris male, sed cogites.

  Do not wish ill for your enemy, plan it.

  CONTENTS

  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

&
nbsp; 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

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Chapter 45

  Chapter 46

  Chapter 47

  Chapter 48

  Chapter 49

  Chapter 50

  Chapter 51

  Chapter 52

  Chapter 53

  Chapter 54

  Chapter 55

  Chapter 56

  Chapter 57

  Chapter 58

  Chapter 59

  Chapter 60

  Chapter 61

  Chapter 62

  Chapter 63

  Chapter 64

  Chapter 65

  Chapter 66

  Chapter 67

  Chapter 68

  Chapter 69

  Chapter 70

  Chapter 71

  Chapter 72

  Chapter 73

  Chapter 74

  Chapter 75

  Chapter 76

  Chapter 77

  Chapter 78

  Chapter 79

  Chapter 80

  Chapter 81

  Chapter 82

  Chapter 83

  Chapter 84

  Chapter 85

  Chapter 86

  Chapter 87

  Chapter 88

  Chapter 89

  Chapter 90

  Chapter 91

  Chapter 92

  Chapter 93

  Chapter 94

  Chapter 95

  Chapter 96

  Chapter 97

  Chapter 98

  Chapter 99

  Chapter 100

  Chapter 101

  Chapter 102

  Chapter 103

  Chapter 104

  Chapter 105

  Chapter 106

  Chapter 107

  Chapter 108

  Chapter 109

  Chapter 110

  Chapter 111

  Chapter 112

  Chapter 113

  Chapter 114

  Chapter 115

  Chapter 116

  Chapter 117

  Chapter 118

  Chapter 119

  Chapter 120

  Chapter 121

  Chapter 122

  Chapter 123

  Chapter 124

  Acknowledgments

  'Black List' Excerpt

  Reader’s Companion

  About the Author

  About Emily Bestler Books

  About Atria Books

  Ask Atria

  CHAPTER 1

  CAMP DELTA

  U.S. NAVAL STATION

  GUANTANAMO BAY, CUBA

  When it was hot and humid, life in Cuba hovered somewhere between absolute misery and “the bath is ready does anyone have a razor blade?” But when it was cold and raining, Cuba was downright unbearable. Tonight was one of those nights.

  When the guards arrived at the isolation cells of Delta’s “Camp 5,” where the most dangerous and highest-intelligence-value detainees resided, they were in a worse mood than usual. And it wasn’t because of the weather. Something was wrong. It was written all over their faces as they pulled five prisoners from their cells and ordered them at gunpoint to strip.

  Philippe Roussard hadn’t been at Guantanamo the longest, but he had definitely been interrogated the hardest. A European of Arab descent, he was a sniper of extraordinary ability whose exploits were legendary. Videos of his kills played on continuous loops on jihadist websites across the internet. To his Muslim brothers he was nothing short of a superhero in the radical Islamist pantheon. To the United States, he was a horrific killing machine responsible for the deaths of over one hundred U.S. soldiers.

  As Roussard looked into the eyes of his jailers, though, he saw more than the usual pure hatred. Tonight it was coupled with absolute disgust. Whatever middle-of-the-night interrogation tactic the Joint Task Force Guantanamo soldiers had in store for Roussard and his four colleagues, something told him it wasn’t going to be like anything they had experienced before. The guards appeared on the verge of losing control.

  Had an attack been successfully executed against the United States? What else could have put the soldiers in such a state?

  If so, Roussard felt certain that the Americans would make the prisoners pay. Undoubtedly, they had devised yet another humiliating exercise designed to insult their prisoners’ Muslim sensibilities. Privately, Roussard hoped the torture involved the attractive blond soldier and that she would disrobe down to her lacy, black lingerie and rub herself against him. Though he knew it was wrong, his fantasies of what he wanted to do to that woman were what kept him nicely occupied during the long, lonely hours of isolation he endured.

  He was still speculating about his fate when he heard the door at the far end of the cell block shut. Roussard looked up, hoping it was the blond, but it wasn’t. Another soldier had entered carrying five paper shopping bags. As he passed, he threw each of the prisoners a bag.

  “Get dressed!” he ordered in awkward Arabic.

  Confused, all of the prisoners, including Roussard, removed the civilian clothing from their bags and began to get dressed. The men cast furtive glances at one another as they tried to figure out what was happening. Roussard was reminded of stories he’d heard about Jewish concentration camp prisoners who were told they were being taken for showers when they were actually on their way to the gas chambers.

  He doubted the Americans were dressing them in new clothes only to execute them, but nevertheless the uncertainty of what they were about to face filled him with more than a little trepidation.

  “Why don’t they try to make a run for it?” one of the guards whispered to his comrade as he stroked the trigger guard of his M-16. “I just want one of these fuckers to rabbit on us.”

  “This is bullshit,” replied the other. “What the hell are we doing?”

  “You two, shut up!” barked their commander, who then called in a series of commands over his radio.

  Something definitely wasn’t right.

  Once they were completely clothed, shackles were placed around their wrists and ankles and they were lined up against the far wall.

  This is it, thought Roussard as he held the stare of the soldier who had been hoping for one of the prisoners to make a run for it.

  The soldier’s finger went from his weapon’s trigger guard to its actual trigger and he seemed about to say something when a series of vehicles ground to a halt just outside.

  “That’s us,” shouted the Task Force commander. “Let’s mount up.”

  The prisoners were shoved toward the door. Roussard hoped that once they got outside and he could see where they were going, things would make more sense.

  That plan was dashed as one by one, black hoods were placed over each man’s head before he was taken outside to a waiting column of green Humvees.

  Ten minutes later, the convoy came to a stop. Before Roussard’s heavy hood was removed, he could make out the distinct, high-pitched whine of idling jet engines.

  On the rain-soaked tarmac, the prisoners stared up at an enormous Boeing 727 as their shackles were removed. A metal staircase had been rolled up against the side of the aircraft and its door stood wide open.

  No one said a word, but based on the demeanor of the soldiers—who seemed to have been ordered to keep thei
r distance from the plane—Roussard came to a stunning conclusion. Without being directed to do so, he took a step forward. When none of the soldiers tried to stop him, he took another and another until his feet touched the first metal step and he began climbing upward two at a time. His salvation was at hand! Just as he had known it eventually would be.

  With the sound of the other prisoners pounding up the gangway behind him, Roussard stepped cautiously into the cabin. He was met by the plane’s first officer, who compared his likeness to a photo on his clipboard, removed a heavy black envelope, and said, “We were told to give you this.”

  Roussard had received envelopes like this before. Without even opening it, he knew who it was from.

  “If you wouldn’t mind taking a seat,” continued the first officer. “The captain is eager to be under-way.”

  Roussard found an empty place near the window and buckled himself in. As the main cabin door was closed, several members of the flight crew disappeared into the rear of the aircraft and returned lugging odd-looking pieces of medical equipment, along with an equal number of large, plastic coolers.

  None of it made any sense to Roussard until he opened the envelope and read its contents. A slow smile then began to spread across his face. It was done. Not only was he free, but the Americans would not be able to come after him. He was going to have his revenge—and much sooner than he would have thought.

  Opening his window shade, Roussard could see the soldiers climbing back into their Humvees and driving away from their airstrip, several with their hands hanging out the windows and their middle fingers raised in mock salute.

  As the aircraft’s engines roared to life and the heavy beast began to roll forward, cheers of “Allahu Akbar,” God is great, erupted from the front of the plane.

  Allah was indeed great, but Roussard knew it wasn’t He who had arranged for their release. As he stared at the black envelope, he knew their gratitude was owed to someone much less benevolent.

  Turning his attention back to the window as the soldiers quickly disappeared from view, Roussard cocked thumb and forefinger, took aim, and pulled an imaginary trigger.

  Now that he was free, he knew that it was only a matter of time before his handler turned him loose inside America to exact his revenge.