Final Target Read online

  Praise for John Gilstrap and His Thrillers

  NICK OF TIME

  “A page-turning thriller with strong characters, exciting action, and a big heart.”

  —Heather Graham

  AGAINST ALL ENEMIES

  “Any John Gilstrap novel packs the punch of a rocket-propelled grenade—on steroids! Tentacles of intrigue reach into FBI headquarters and military hierarchy. Lines are crossed and new ones drawn. The philosophy of killing to preserve life takes on new meaning. Gilstrap grabs the reader’s attention in a literary vise grip. Each installment of the Jonathan Grave series is a force majeure of covert incursions, and a damn good read.”

  —BookReporter.com

  “Tense, clever . . . series enthusiasts are bound to enjoy this new thriller.”

  —Library Journal

  END GAME

  AN AMAZON EDITORS’ FAVORITE BOOK OF THE YEAR

  “Gilstrap’s new Jonathan Grave thriller is his best novel to date—even considering his enviable bibliography. End Game starts off explosively and keeps on rolling. Gilstrap puts you in the moment as very few authors can. And there are many vignettes that will stay with you long after you have finished the book.”

  —Joe Hartlaub, BookReporter.com

  DAMAGE CONTROL

  “Powerful and explosive, an unforgettable journey into the dark side of the human soul. Gilstrap is a master of action and drama. If you like Vince Flynn and Brad Thor, you’ll love John Gilstrap.”

  —Gayle Lynds

  “Rousing . . . Readers will anxiously await the next installment.”

  —Publishers Weekly

  “It’s easy to see why John Gilstrap is the go-to guy among thriller writers, when it comes to weapons, ammunition, and explosives. His expertise is uncontested.”

  —John Ramsey Miller

  “The best page-turning thriller I’ve grabbed in ages. Gilstrap is one of the very few writers who can position a set of characters in a situation, ramp up the tension, and—yes, keep it there, all the way through. There is no place you can put this book down.”

  —Beth Kanell, Kingdom Books, Vermont

  “A page-turning, near-perfect thriller, with engaging and believable characters . . . unputdownable!

  Warning—if you must be up early the next morning, don’t start the book.”

  —Top Mystery Novels

  “Takes you full force right away and doesn’t let go until the very last page . . . has enough full-bore action to take your breath away, barely giving you time to inhale. The action is nonstop. Gilstrap knows his technology and weaponry. Damage Control will blow you away.”

  —Suspense Magazine

  THREAT WARNING

  “If you are a fan of thriller novels, I hope you’ve been reading John Gilstrap’s Jonathan Grave series. Threat Warning is a character-driven work where the vehicle has four on the floor and horsepower to burn. From beginning to end, it is dripping with excitement.”

  —Joe Hartlaub, BookReporter.com

  “If you like Vince Flynn–style action, with a strong, incorruptible hero, this series deserves to be in your reading diet. Threat Warning reconfirms Gilstrap as a master of jaw-dropping action and heart-squeezing suspense.”

  —Austin Camacho, The Big Thrill

  HOSTAGE ZERO

  “Jonathan Grave, my favorite freelance peacemaker, problem-solver, and tough guy hero, is back—and in particularly fine form. Hostage Zero is classic Gilstrap: the people are utterly real, the action’s foot to the floor, and the writing’s fluid as a well-oiled machine gun.

  A tour de force!”

  —Jeffery Deaver

  HOSTAGE ZERO

  “This addictively readable thriller marries a breakneck pace to a complex, multilayered plot.... A roller coaster ride of adrenaline-inducing plot twists leads to a riveting and highly satisfying conclusion. Exceptional characterization and an intricate, flawlessly crafted story line make this an absolute must read for thriller fans.”

  —Publishers Weekly (starred review)

  NO MERCY

  “No Mercy grabs hold of you on page one and doesn’t let go. Gilstrap’s new series is terrific. It will leave you breathless. I can’t wait to see what Jonathan Grave is up to next.”

  —Harlan Coben

  “The release of a new John Gilstrap novel is always worth celebrating, because he’s one of the finest thriller writers on the planet. No Mercy showcases his work at its finest—taut, action-packed, and impossible to put down!”

  —Tess Gerritsen

  “A great hero, a pulse-pounding story—and the launch of a really exciting series.”

  —Joseph Finder

  “An entertaining, fast-paced tale of violence and revenge.”

  —Publishers Weekly

  “No other writer is better able to combine in a single novel both rocket-paced suspense and heartfelt looks at family and the human spirit. And what a pleasure to meet Jonathan Grave, a hero for our time . . . and for all time.”

  —Jeffery Deaver

  AT ALL COSTS

  “Riveting . . . combines a great plot and realistic, likable characters with look-over-your-shoulder tension. A page turner.”

  —The Kansas City Star

  “Gilstrap builds tension . . . until the last page, a hallmark of great thriller writers. I almost called the paramedics before I finished At All Costs.”

  —Tulsa World

  “Gilstrap has ingeniously twisted his simple premise six ways from Sunday.”

  —Kirkus Reviews

  “Not-to-be-missed.”

  —Rocky Mountain News

  NATHAN’S RUN

  “Gilstrap pushes every thriller button . . . a nail-biting denouement and strong characters.”

  —San Francisco Chronicle

  “Gilstrap has a shot at being the next John Grisham . . . one of the best books of the year.”

  —Rocky Mountain News

  “Emotionally charged . . . one of the year’s best.”

  —Chicago Tribune

  “Brilliantly calculated . . . With the skill of a veteran pulp master, Gilstrap weaves a yarn that demands to be read in one sitting.”

  —Publishers Weekly (starred review)

  “Like a roller coaster, the story races along on well-oiled wheels to an undeniably pulse-pounding conclusion.”

  —Kirkus Reviews (starred review)

  ALSO BY JOHN GILSTRAP

  Nick of Time

  Friendly Fire

  Against All Enemies

  End Game

  Soft Targets

  High Treason

  Damage Control

  Threat Warning

  Hostage Zero

  No Mercy

  Six Minutes to Freedom

  Scott Free

  Even Steven

  At All Costs

  Nathan’s Run

  FINAL TARGET

  A JONATHAN GRAVE THRILLER

  JOHN GILSTRAP

  PINNACLE BOOKS

  Kensington Publishing Corp.

  www.kensingtonbooks.com

  All copyrighted material within is Attributor Protected.

  Table of Contents

  Praise for John Gilstrap and His Thrillers

  ALSO BY JOHN GILSTRAP

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Dedication

  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

  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

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  Teaser chapter

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  PINNACLE BOOKS are published by

  Kensington Publishing Corp.

  119 West 40th Street

  New York, NY 10018

  Copyright © 2017 John Gilstrap, Inc.

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without the prior written consent of the publisher, excepting brief quotes used in reviews.

  If you purchased this book without a cover, you should be aware that this book is stolen property. It was reported as “unsold and destroyed” to the publisher, and neither the author nor the publisher has received any payment for this “stripped book.”

  This book 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 fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  PINNACLE BOOKS and the Pinnacle logo are Reg. U.S. Pat. & TM Off.

  ISBN: 978-0-7860-3978-4

  First electronic edition: July 2017

  ISBN-13: 978-0-7860-3979-1

  ISBN-10: 0-7860-3979-5

  To Jeffery Deaver

  CHAPTER 1

  Jonathan Grave heard the sounds of ongoing torture a full minute before he arrived on the scene. An approach like this in the middle of the night through the tangled mass of the Mexican jungle was an exercise in patience. He was outnumbered and outgunned, so his only advantage was surprise. Well, that and marksmanship. And night vision.

  Ahead of him, and too far away to be seen through the undergrowth, his teammate and dear friend, Brian Van De Muelebroecke (aka Boxers), was likewise closing in on the source of the atrocity.

  The last few minutes, the last few yards were always the most difficult. Until now, the hostage’s suffering had been an academic exercise, something talked about in briefings. But hearing the agonized cries above the cacophony of the moving foliage and screeching critters of this humidity factory made it all very real. The sense of urgency tempted Jonathan to move faster than was prudent. And prudence made the difference between life and death.

  It was 2315, the night was blacker than black, and that victim, who no doubt was praying for death, had no idea that he was mere minutes away from relief. As soon as Jonathan and Boxers got into position, they would read the situation for what it was and then execute the rescue. It would be over in seconds. There was nothing elegant about what they intended. They would move in, kill the bad guys who didn’t run away, and pluck their precious cargo—their PC, a DEA agent named Harry Dawkins—to safety. There was some yada yada built into the details, but those were the basics. If past was precedent, the torturers were cartel henchmen.

  First, Jonathan had to get to the PC and get eyes on the situation. He had thousands of years of human evolution working against him. As a species, humans don’t face many natural predators, and as a result, we don’t pay close attention to the danger signs that surround us. Until darkness falls.

  When vision becomes limited, other senses pick up the slack, particularly hearing. As he moved through the tangle of undergrowth and overgrowth, Jonathan was hyper-aware of the noises he made. A breaking twig or the rattle of battle gear would rise above the natural noises of the environment and alert his prey that something was out of the ordinary. They might not know what the sound was, but they would be aware of something.

  Alerted prey was dangerous prey, and Jonathan’s two-man team did not have the manpower necessary to cope with too many departures from the plan.

  Another scream split the night, this time with a plea to stop. “I already told you everything I know,” Dawkins said in heavily accented Spanish. The words sounded slurred. “I don’t know anything more.”

  As Jonathan neared, the magnified light of his night-vision goggles, NVGs, began to flare with the light of electric lanterns. “I have eyes on the clearing,” Boxers’ voice said in his right ear. He barely whispered, but he was audible. “They’re yanking the PC’s teeth. We need to go hot soon.”

  Jonathan responded by pressing the TRANSMIT button on his ballistic vest to break squelch a single time. There was no need for an audible answer. By their own SOPs, one click meant yes, two meant no.

  As if to emphasize the horror, another scream rattled the night.

  Jonathan pressed a second TRANSMIT button on his vest, activating the radio transceiver in his left ear, the one dedicated to the channel that linked him to his DEA masters. The transceiver in his right ear was reserved for the team he actually trusted. “Air One,” he whispered over the radio. “Are you set for exfil?”

  “I’m at a high orbit,” a voice replied. “Awaiting instructions.” The voice belonged to a guy named Goodman, whom Jonathan didn’t know, and that bothered the hell out of him. The pilot was cruising the heavens in a Little Bird helicopter that would pluck them from one of three predetermined exfiltration points. He was a gift from the United States Drug Enforcement Administration as an off-the-record contribution to their own employee’s rescue. For reasons that apparently made sense to the folks who plied their trade from offices on Pennsylvania Avenue, this op was too sensitive to assign to an FBI or even a U.S. military rescue team, yet somehow it could support a government-paid pilot, and that inconsistency bothered Jonathan. A lot. It was possible, of course, that Goodman was every bit as freelance as Jonathan, but that thought wasn’t exactly comforting. Freelancers’ loyalty was as susceptible to high bidders as their skills were.

  “Be advised that we will be going hot soon,” Jonathan whispered.

  “Affirm. Copy that you’re going hot soon. Tell me what you want, and I’ll be there.”

  Jonathan keyed the other mike. “Big Guy, are you already in position?”

  Boxers broke squelch once. Yes.

  Jonathan replayed Dawkins’s plea in his head. I already told you everything I know. The fact that the PC had revealed information—even if it wasn’t everything he knew—meant that Jonathan and Boxers were too late to prevent all the damage they had hoped to. Maybe if DEA hadn’t been so slow on the draw, or if the U.S. government in general had reacted faster with resources already owned by Uncle Sam, the bad guys wouldn’t know anything.

  The bud in Jonathan’s left ear popped. “Team Alpha, this is Overwatch. Over.”

  “Go ahead, Overwatch,” Jonathan replied. He thought the “over” prefix was stupid, a throwback to outdated radio protocols.

  “We have thermal signatures on Alpha One and Alpha Two, and we show you approaching a cluster of Uniform Sierras from roughly the northwest and southeast.”

  Somewhere in the United States, Overwatch—no doubt a teenager, judging from his voice—was watching a computer screen with a live view from a satellite a couple hundred miles overhead. As Jonathan wiped a dribble of sweat from his eyes, he wondered if the teenager was wearing a wrap of some kind to keep warm in the air-conditioning. “Uniform Sierra” was what big boys wrapped in Snoopy blankets called an unknown subject.

  “That would be us, Overwatch,” Jonathan whispered. He and Boxers had attached transponders to their kit to make them discernible to eyes in the sky. Even in a crowd, they’d be the only two guys flashing “Here I am” signals to the satellite.

  “Be advised that we count a total of eight Uniform
Sierras in the immediate area. One of them will be your PC. Consider all the others to be hostile.”

  In his right ear, Boxers whispered, “Sentries and torturers are hostile. Check. Moron.”

  Jonathan suppressed a chuckle as he switched his NVGs from light enhancement to thermal mode and scanned his surroundings. It wasn’t his preferred setting for a firefight, because of the loss of visual acuity, but in a jungle environment, even with the advantage of infrared illumination gear, the thick vegetation provided too many shadows to hide in. “How far are the nearest unfriendlies from our locations?” he asked on the government net.

  A few seconds passed in silence. “They appear to have set up sentries on the perimeter,” Overwatch said. “Alpha One, you should have one on your left about twenty yards out—call it your eleven o’clock—and then another at your one, one thirty, about the same distance. Alpha Two, you are right between two of them at your nine and three. Call it fifteen yards to nine and thirty to three. The others are clustered around a light source in the middle. I believe it’s an electric lantern.”