Spencerville
cameras and looked at the digital images on the small screen, which made him smile.
He called to one of his men, “Nabeel,” and handed him the camera to take pictures of the slaughter.
The Panther looked at the dead Europeans and said, “So, you came to Yemen for adventure and for knowledge. And you have found both. A great final adventure, and a great knowledge of this land. You have learned that in Yemen death comes.”
Chapter 2
If Earth had an anus, it would be located in Yemen.
And speaking of assholes, my boss, FBI Special Agent-in-Charge Tom Walsh, wanted to see me, John Corey, at 5:15 P.M. , and Detective Corey was now five minutes late. But not to worry–my wife, Kate Mayfield, who also works for Walsh, was on time for the meeting and had undoubtedly made excuses for me, like, “John is in a passive-aggressive mood today. He’ll be here when he feels he’s made his statement.”
Right. Another five minutes. I logged off my computer and looked around the empty cube farm. I work on the 26 th floor of 26 Federal Plaza which is located in Lower Manhattan in the shadows of the Twin Towers. Well… not any more. The Towers, I mean. But I’m still here.
It was Friday–what we call Federal Friday–meaning that by 4:30, my colleagues in the War on Terrorism, mostly FBI agents and NYPD detectives, had left to beat the bridge and tunnel traffic, or they’d gone off on special assignments to the
surrounding bars and restaurants. With any luck, I’d be joining them shortly. But first I had to see Tom Walsh, who is in charge of the New York Anti-Terrorist Task Force. And what did Mr. Walsh want to see me about?
His e-mail had said: JOHN, KATE, MY OFFICE, 5:15. PRIVATE. SUBJECT YEMEN.
Yemen? Typo, maybe. Yemex? A new kind of explosive? Maybe he meant, “Yes men.” Too many yes men in the organization.
Walsh doesn’t usually state the subject of a private meeting–he likes to surprise you. But when he does state a subject, he wants you to think about it–he wants it to eat at your guts.
If I thought this out, I could conclude that Tom Walsh wanted to assign Kate and me to the Yemen desk. Do we have a Yemen desk here? Maybe he just wanted us to help him find Yemen on the map.
Another possibility… no, he was not going to ask us to go to Yemen. No, no. I’d been there for a month to investigate the USS Cole bombing. That’s how I found out it was an anal cavity.
I stood, put on my jacket, straightened my tie and brushed the chips off my shoulders–a well-balanced detective has a chip on both shoulders–then made my way toward Walsh’s office.
Books by Nelson DeMille
B Y THE R IVERS OF B ABYLON
C ATHEDRAL
T HE T ALBOT O DYSSEY
W ORD OF H ONOR
T HE C HARM S CHOOL
T HE G OLD C OAST
T HE G ENERAL ’ S D AUGHTER
S PENCERVILLE
P LUM I SLAND
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—Lexington Herald-Leader
“D E MILLE’S NARRATIVE ENERGY IS UNFLAGGING.”
—Boston Globe
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—Hollywood Reporter
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—Abilene Reporter-News
“D E MILLE IS ONE OF THE MOST CONSISTENT THRILLER PRODUCERS IN THE FIELD…
. SPENCERVILL
E DEMONSTRATES AN OLD PRO’S SKILL AT TENSIONING THE READER’S NERVE ENDINGS…. It’s a tribute to DeMille’s skill that you’re as fascinated by the loathsome chief as by the heroic, slightly battered Keith.”
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Copyright
Author’s Note:
This is entirely a work of fiction, and while there is a town in Ohio called Spencerville, its location and description are different from the town I describe, and neither the town nor the people in it bears any resemblance to the town or the people in this story.
SPENCERVILLE . Copyright © 2012 by Nelson DeMille.
Excerpt from
The Panther
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