Table of Contents
Praise for the Novels and Stories of Tod Goldberg
Finalist for the Los Angeles Times Book Prize
A keen voice, profound insight... devilishly entertaining. Los Angeles Times
Goldbergs prose is deceptively smooth, like a vanilla milk shake spiked with grain alcohol.
Chicago Tribune
[A] creepy, strangely sardonic, definitely disturbing version of Middle America... and that, of course, is where the fun begins. LA Weekly
Perfect... with all the sleaze and glamour of the old paperbacks of fifty years ago. Kirkus Reviews
Striking and affecting... Goldberg is a gifted writer, poetic and rigorous... a fiction tour de force... a haunting book.January Magazine
Praise for the Series
Likably lighthearted and cool as a smart-mouthed loner... cheerfully insouciant.
The New York Times
Brisk and witty. The Christian Science Monitor
[A] swell new spy series... highly enjoyable.
Chicago Tribune
Violence, babes, and a cool guy spy... slick and funny and a lotta fun. New York Post
Smart, charmingly irreverent... pleasantly warped.
Detroit Free Press
Snazzy. Entertainment Weekly
Terrifically entertaining... neat and crisp as citrus soda. Seattle Post-Intelligencer
Breezy cloak-and-dagger ingenuity. [A] nicely pitched action-comedy hero: handsome, smart, neurotic, tough, funny, sensitive... Michael Westen is Jim Rockford and MacGyver filtered through Carl Hiassen. Entertaining, in other words.
LA Weekly
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First published by Obsidian, an imprint of New American Library,
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First Printing, May 2009
Copyright 2009 Twentieth Century Fox Film Corporation.
eISBN : 978-1-101-04985-3
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For Wendy, who always inspires me to be better.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
As ever, I am grateful to Matt Nix for letting me play with his toys. Extra-special thanks to Rashad Raisani for listening to my story and telling me a better one. Thanks also to: my brother, Lee Goldberg, for midnight support and wise counsel; my agent, Jennie Dunham, for her constant faith; my ever-patient editor, Kristen Weber, for being ever-patient; and my wife, Wendy, without whom these pages would be blank.
Much thanks for helpful research hints: Walt Stone, Dan Jimenez, Timothy Schmand and Ryan Johnson. Since I am not a spy, Id encourage all of you to avoid doing anything in this book that might cause you to blow upbesides, I make a lot of stuff up. However, if you want to read about the real folks, I found the following books very enlightening from a research standpoint: Marine Force Recon by Fred J. Pushies, Why Spy: Espionage in an Age of Uncertainty and The Great Game: Myths and Reality of Espionage, both by Frederick Hitz.
When youre a spy, the word belated gets eradicated from your vocabulary. You dont send belated birthday cards. You dont send belated Christmas cards. You dont send belated wedding, anniversary, graduation or congratulations cards. You dont even bother to send belated wishes via e-mail. You tend to miss physical events like birthdays and baptisms and Bar Mitzvahs, because its nearly impossible to tell a Taliban assassin youll have to halt his inquisition until Monday so you can make it to T.G.I. Fridays for your buddys fortieth.
If birthdays, weddings and holidays meant a lot to you, you wouldnt be traveling the world under diplomatic cloak; youd be sitting in a cubicle, rigging the Secret Santa lottery, drafting memos about the need for casual Fridays, and fantasizing about the person who services the photocopier. Being a spy means never being forced to eat potato skins in a T.G.I. Fridays surrounded by men in Dockers or expressing your emotions through the mystery of Hallmark.
When youre no longer a spy, however, you learn pretty quickly that theres no card that says, Sorry I missed the last dozen Mothers Days. I was busy doing black ops. And yet there I was, in the middle of Target in midtown Miami, staring at row after row of greeting cards, trying to find one that might justifiably say that very thing.
My ex-girlfriend/former IRA operative/current business associate/confusing-person-of-romantic-interest Fiona Glenanne handed me a card. This one is cute, she said.
The cover read: Im Sorry... The inside said:... For being a terrible son. Happy Mothers Day!
Subtle, I said.
I think it would speak to your mother. She handed me another card. This one had a photo of a line of identical puppies trailing behind their mother. On the inside it said: It could have been worse. There could have been ten just like me. Happy Mothers Day!
A lovely sentiment, I said. But no.
Have you thought about composing your own card?
Fi, I said, I dont even want to buy a card. Why would I want to make one?
I dont know, Michael, Fiona said. Maybe to show your mother you appreciate her carrying your vile existence for nine months.
She had a point. The problem was that if I started making my mother handmade Mothers Day cards now, next year at this time expectations would be astronomical, and next year I planned on being out of Miami permanently. It may be a big city, but when youre essentially trapped in the city limits by your own government, every day it seems to shrink by an inch.