Target nine, p.1
Target Nine, page 1
T A R G E T N I N E
(THE SPY GAME—BOOK 9)
J A C K M A R S
Jack Mars
Jack Mars is the USA Today bestselling author of the LUKE STONE thriller series, which includes seven books. He is also the author of the new FORGING OF LUKE STONE prequel series, comprising six books; of the AGENT ZERO spy thriller series, comprising twelve books; of the TROY STARK thriller series, comprising seven books; of the SPY GAME thriller series, comprising ten books; of the JAKE MERCER thriller series, comprising five books (and counting); and of the new TYLER WOLF thriller series, comprising five books (and counting).
Jack loves to hear from you, so please feel free to visit www.Jackmarsauthor.com to join the email list, receive a free book, receive free giveaways, connect on Facebook and Twitter, and stay in touch!
Copyright © 2024 by Jack Mars. All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior permission of the author. This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return it and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places, events, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictionally. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. Jacket image Copyright Dave Couldwell, used under license from Shutterstock.com.
BOOKS BY JACK MARS
TYLER WOLF THRILLER SERIES
DOUBLE AGENT (Book #1)
DOUBLE CROSS (Book #2)
DOUBLE ASSET (Book #3)
DOUBLE DOCTRINE (Book #4)
DOUBLE JEOPARDY (Book #5)
JAKE MERCER THRILLER SERIES
ABSOLUTE THREAT (Book #1)
ABSOLUTE DAMAGE (Book #2)
ABSOLUTE FORCE (Book #3)
ABSOLUTE PERIL (Book #4)
ABSOLUTE TREASON (Book #5)
THE SPY GAME
TARGET ONE (Book #1)
TARGET TWO (Book #2)
TARGET THREE (Book #3)
TARGET FOUR (Book #4)
TARGET FIVE (Book #5)
TARGET SIX (Book #6)
TARGET SEVEN (Book #7)
TARGET EIGHT (Book #8)
TARGET NINE (Book #9)
TARGET TEN (Book #10)
TROY STARK THRILLER SERIES
ROGUE FORCE (Book #1)
ROGUE COMMAND (Book #2)
ROGUE TARGET (Book #3)
ROGUE MISSION (Book #4)
ROGUE SHOT (Book #5)
ROGUE STRIKE (Book #6)
ROGUE ORDER (Book #7)
LUKE STONE THRILLER SERIES
ANY MEANS NECESSARY (Book #1)
OATH OF OFFICE (Book #2)
SITUATION ROOM (Book #3)
OPPOSE ANY FOE (Book #4)
PRESIDENT ELECT (Book #5)
OUR SACRED HONOR (Book #6)
HOUSE DIVIDED (Book #7)
FORGING OF LUKE STONE PREQUEL SERIES
PRIMARY TARGET (Book #1)
PRIMARY COMMAND (Book #2)
PRIMARY THREAT (Book #3)
PRIMARY GLORY (Book #4)
PRIMARY VALOR (Book #5)
PRIMARY DUTY (Book #6)
AN AGENT ZERO SPY THRILLER SERIES
AGENT ZERO (Book #1)
TARGET ZERO (Book #2)
HUNTING ZERO (Book #3)
TRAPPING ZERO (Book #4)
FILE ZERO (Book #5)
RECALL ZERO (Book #6)
ASSASSIN ZERO (Book #7)
DECOY ZERO (Book #8)
CHASING ZERO (Book #9)
VENGEANCE ZERO (Book #10)
ZERO ZERO (Book #11)
ABSOLUTE ZERO (Book #12)
CONTENTS
PROLOGUE
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY
CHAPTER TWENTY ONE
CHAPTER TWENTY TWO
CHAPTER TWENTY THREE
CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR
CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE
CHAPTER TWENTY SIX
CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN
CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT
CHAPTER TWENTY NINE
PROLOGUE
The Himalayan Heritage Museum
Kathmandu, Nepal
9 a.m.
James and Emma Skinner smiled at each other as they passed through the front door of the museum, the first two people in the small line waiting for it to open. The brother and sister, both in their early twenties, had taken a year off after graduating to cross Asia together, and this moment was one they had both been looking forward to.
James always thought it funny how everyone commented on how close they were. Just a year apart, they’d been inseparable all through school and had all the same interests, especially Asian culture and hiking, which is why they had come to Nepal together. For the past month they’d hiked the Annapurna circuit and base camp routes, climbing high Himalayan passes and working their way up a long valley to the base camp, a stunning spot surrounded by snow-capped Himalayan peaks and a crackling glacial scree running beside it.
Now, footsore and more than a bit weary, they were back in Kathmandu seeing the sights.
Their first stop was the brand-new Himalayan Heritage Museum, opened just a few months before. It stood in the dusty modern outskirts of town, far away from the historic center, because the government didn’t want to disturb the medieval squares and their countless temples and pagodas, many of which were being meticulously restored after the disastrous earthquake of 2015.
The museum, funded by the Nepali diaspora and UNESCO after the quake, aimed to bring together a vast collection of Himalayan artifacts not just from Nepal, but also Bhutan, Sikkim, and Tibet. In the outpouring of sympathy for the heritage and lives lost in the earthquake, museums and collectors around the world had donated rare items. The Nepali government had scoured their own museums for items as well to make the best collection of Himalayan artifacts anywhere.
James and Emma Skinner bought their tickets at the window and walked through the entrance of the grand concrete building, built to resemble a traditional pagoda but also designed by a top Japanese architect to be earthquake proof, climate controlled, and highly secure.
Once inside, they stopped and gasped.
The main entrance hallway was a masterpiece.
A huge golden statue of Garuda, the winged Hindu deity, faced an even more massive gold statue of four-armed Vishnu. Their serene eyes seemed to study each other while their minds had ascended to heaven.
On the walls hung silk tapestries from earlier centuries depicting scenes of religious ceremonies or the royal court. Framing the doorways on the three sides leading to other galleries were intricately carved wooden beams rescued from fallen temples.
James and Emma stood for a moment, soaking it all in.
Emma turned to her brother. “Let’s go check it out.”
She didn’t have to say what she meant. James knew she meant the Royal Vajra. The vajra had always been an important symbol for both of them ever since they started reading about Buddhism in high school, and the Royal Vajra, they knew, was unlike anything they had ever seen.
They headed through the righthand gallery, quickening their steps to outpace the steady trickle of early visitors coming through the entrance.
The brother and sister passed through an echoing chamber lined with golden buddhas, through another of elegant wooden carvings of Hindu deities, and found the room they sought.
The Royal Vajra sat in a glass case on a concrete podium the size of a large dinner table. They gasped as they beheld its beauty.
“Vajra” was the Sanskrit word for both “thunder” and “diamond.” A vajra was a pair of bulbs made up of five ribs connected at the center with a small handle. At the end of each bulb was a spike. It was the weapon of Indra, the Hindu king of heaven, and cut through ignorance and illusion like a sword cut through flesh. It also symbolized the male principle and would be used in rituals in conjunction with a bell, symbolizing the female principle.
But the Royal Vajra couldn’t be used that way, unless held by a giant. It was fully ten feet long.
No other vajra was that big. The ribs making the bulbs on either end were as thick as James’s arm, the space they contained big enough that Emma could squeeze inside. The rod connecting the two bulbs was disproportionally thick.
Not only was the vajra enormous, but it was brilliantly preserved, the brass looking like it had been burnished yesterday.
This was a prize artifact of the Antiquities Authority of Nepal, held in storage at the royal palace for centuries before at last being displayed to the public here for the first t ime. As soon as James and Emma had read about it, they knew they’d have to come see it.
The brother and sister pressed their palms together in front of their heart. While not devout in either Hinduism or Buddhism, the main religions of this region, they respected many of their traditions and practiced meditation and yoga.
They stared at it, not speaking, barely even breathing.
James found he couldn’t empty his mind as he had planned to in front of this sacred object. It was too stunning, too mysterious. Little was known about the thing or why it was so unusually large. The royal palace had no record of when they had acquired it, except that it had been acquired from the previous dynasty, the Gorka Kingdom, which had ruled from 1559 to 1768. Legend had it that one of the early Gorka rulers (no one was sure which) had found it in an ancient monastery on the Tibetan Plateau to the northeast and brought it back to Kathmandu. It was said to have incredible powers for enlightening the mind and had been a holy object venerated by centuries of Nepali kings.
Other than that, nothing was known about this unique artifact.
James stared, and wondered.
More people began to file in, both Nepalis and foreign tourists, all making a beeline for the Royal Vajra.
“Beautiful, isn’t it?” a middle-aged Nepali man said in English and he took a place next to Emma. He, too, had his palms pressed together.
“It’s amazing,” Emma said breathlessly.
“They say it holds great power,” the Nepali man said. “That it started normal size but gained so much power from the universe that it grew and grew until it became this size.”
The American siblings stared at it with renewed interest. While they didn’t actually believe that, the spiritual importance of this object wasn’t lost on them.
James let out a long, slow breath and finally began to clear his mind.
Just as he settled into a meditative state, his sister doing the same at his side, a shot rang out.
James and Emma whirled around and heard shouting and screams in the next gallery.
Everyone froze. Was the museum being robbed?
The sound of heavy booted feet running in their direction made James’s blood run cold.
Half a dozen masked men carrying AK-47s burst into the room. They shouted something in Nepali and all the Nepalis moved away from the Royal Vajra to the far wall, their hands in the air. James and Emma followed.
“No!” one of the masked men shouted in English. “Tourists to the other side!”
The tourists hurried to obey. James interposed himself between the gunmen and his sister. A thousand horrible scenarios passed through his imagination.
What if this was a terrorist group? Did Nepal have terrorist groups? He hadn’t heard of any. But if this was a terrorist group, they might gun them all down. Or they might film them getting beheaded. Or they might take Emma and …
“Down on the floor!” the gunman shouted in English. A similar command was barked at the Nepalis. Everyone got down. James shielded Emma with his body.
If they come for her, I’ll fight.
James wasn’t sure how he’d fight. He had taken a couple of years of taekwondo in university, but he didn’t think that would stand up to a gang of gun-toting maniacs.
Still, he’d fight. He’d rather die than see his sister hurt.
The gunman who spoke English walked over to the crowd of shivering tourists. Another walked over to the Nepalis.
Oh my God, they’re going to kill us now.
Emma’s hand slipped into his and they clasped.
For a moment, nothing happened. Then everyone heard the low hum of an engine.
A small forklift entered the gallery and drove up to the Royal Vajra.
A pair of gunmen riding it jumped off, wielding sledgehammers. They began to bang away at the safety glass, which slowly cracked and crumpled under the onslaught.
The two men facing the divided crowd began to speak.
“We are liberating the vajra for the people of the Himalayas,” the one standing just a few feet away from James and Emma said in English. “It is wasted here as an object of curiosity for gawking tourists and ignorant Nepalis, just as is it was wasted when it was the private plaything of the king. Now it will be an object of power for the people!”
He raised his fist in the air.
The two masked men with the sledgehammers cleared away the last of the glass, hopped back on the forklift, and moved it forward.
The arms slid under the two club ends of the Royal Vajra, moved upwards, and lifted the sacred object.
Beep. Beep. Beep.
The forklift backed up.
Several of the Nepalis cried out and rose. One of the gunmen let loose with his AK-47, stitching a line of bullet holes into the wall above their heads.
They all dove back down to the floor.
The forklift backed out of the gallery, turned, and sped off toward the entrance hall.
“Power to the people of the Himalayas!” shouted the man in front of them, raising his fist to the air once more.
He and the others ran out of the gallery, leaving the trembling visitors to stare at the empty plinth where once sat Nepal’s most sacred object.
CHAPTER ONE
Dublin, Ireland
That evening
Jacob Snow felt like a tourist.
Of course, that was the point since he was pretending to be a tourist, but it still felt low-key embarrassing.
He was sidling up to the bar at the Lucky Shamrock, a pub in the historic center of Dublin. The Lucky Shamrock featured nightly live Irish music, Guinness on tap, and virtually no Irish people among its clientele. It was a tourist place, plain and simple, with a tourist crowd and tourist prices.
The kind of place the guidebooks all called “authentic.”
Jacob found the whole scene cringy, especially the drunk Americans faking Irish accents and the even drunker American trying to do a jig in front of the band.
“Two pints of Guinness, please,” Jacob said.
The bartender had already started pouring one Guinness when Jacob appeared at the bar. He grabbed a second pint glass. The number was the only thing that varied among customer requests, not the product.
Everyone here drank Guinness.
Once he got his pints and paid the extortionate price, he turned from the bar and scanned the cramped interior with its oak beams and wooden floor. Faded prints hung on the walls. The pub dated to the eighteenth century, if you could believe the website, a respectable but not venerable age for an Irish pub.
He walked back to the small round table where Jana sat. She, too, was scanning the crowd. She gave an almost imperceptible shake of the head as he sat down.
No, their target hadn’t arrived yet.
“Sláinte,” he said, raising his glass.
“Is that how you say cheers in Gaelic?” Jana asked.
“Who knows?”
“There’s a pronunciation guide on the back of the menu,” she said, flipping it over. It was wet with someone else’s spilled beer.
“Do you believe it?”
“No more than I believe the potted history written on here.”
“Ah yes, always critical of source material. Anyway, sláinte.”
They drank.
"Hmm, this is good, at least," Jana said. Suddenly, she looked down at the menu and lowered her voice. "At the door."
Jacob turned to toast the Irish band, pretending to be drunk. He even sloshed a bit of his beer onto the already-soaked floor.
It was a good skill, pretending to be drunk. Very useful when on recon.
The movement allowed him to catch the entrance out of the corner of his eye.
Paddy O’Neil had just walked in.
Yes, there really were Irishmen named Paddy, and this particular Paddy was what the English would call “a rough bit of work.”
He was the second-in-command of the Modern Republican Army, a continuation of the Irish Republican Army that had laid down its arms and agreed to peace talks. The Modern Republican Army wanted to continue the armed struggle against the United Kingdom and unite Ireland by force, but unlike other dissident Republican splinter groups that rejected the Northern Ireland peace process, the Modern Republican Army rejected the Marxist ideology of its predecessors, had a slick online presence, and advocated for a “truly united Ireland” by inviting Protestants into its ranks.
