Dewey took a left into the long gravel driveway. When he came to a uniformed Maryland state trooper, he showed him his government ID. The policeman waved him on. He steered the Ferrari past the line of cars and parked in the circular driveway in front of the rambling mansion, next to the ambulance, whose back doors were open.
Several people were milling about. There wasn’t a sense of urgency, though the mood was somber.
Dewey climbed out and walked up to a group of men in dark suits standing at the front door, which was wide open. He held out his ID.
“What happened?” said Dewey.
One of the agents, a middle-aged bald man, nodded to the other two. They walked away.
“She died last night,” said the FBI agent. “Housekeeper discovered her.”
“How?”
“Old age, heart attack, whatever.”
Dewey nodded and started to move past him.
“We’re not letting anyone inside,” he said.
Dewey glanced at him. He reached into his pocket and again showed him the CIA ID.
“Learn your protocols,” said Dewey.
“Sorry.”
Inside, a pair of paramedics had Bruner’s wife on a gurney. She was already zipped up in a black body bag. Dewey went past them, walking slowly around the ground floor of the house. Someone had cleaned up. The trash bags and laundry were gone now. Every room was cozy and elegant, with beautiful paintings in large frames adorning the walls, gorgeous antiques, and Oriental carpets festooned in subtle, amazing patterns. He came to a closed door and turned the knob. Inside was the living room. It was eerily quiet. He looked at the place she had been sitting when he came to kill her. He stared for several seconds, as if she was still there. Then he saw movement and glanced to his right. Lying down in the corner was her large Saint Bernard. He was sound asleep.
Dewey started to turn around to leave but paused instead. He walked to the big dog and crouched next to him. Dewey put his hand on the dog’s head and rubbed it. After a few moments, the dog opened his eyes and looked up at Dewey.
“Hey,” said Dewey.
Dewey ran his hand along the dog’s soft back, scratching him gently. The dog lifted his head and leaned toward him, licking Dewey’s other hand.
“You feel like going for a ride?”
Dewey stood up and looked at the dog, then grinned. The Saint Bernard stood slowly up. They walked out of the room, down the hallway, and went outside, the dog trailing Dewey the whole way.
Dewey stared briefly at the FBI agent as he walked to the car with the Saint Bernard at his side. He opened the passenger door. The dog stared for several moments at the seat. Dewey leaned down and patted it.
“Get in,” he said. “It’s a Ferrari.”
The dog lifted a paw and put it on the seat and lumbered in. Dewey shut the door and walked around to the driver’s side and climbed in. He pushed a red button on the console and started the car. The engine howled. Before he hit the gas, Dewey looked over at the dog. His head was nearly as high as Dewey’s.
“I’m Dewey,” he said, patting the dog on his shoulder. “Wrigley, right?”
The dog’s big, furry, square head turned left and right. His mouth was open and he seemed to be smiling. He held Dewey’s gaze for a moment. A large drop of drool emerged from his mouth and dribbled down onto the leather dashboard.
Dewey burst out laughing.
He hit the accelerator and sent the Ferrari tearing up the dirt driveway.
“You’re gonna love Castine!” yelled Dewey over the full-throated roar of the Ferrari, wheel in one hand, patting Wrigley with the other as the dog attempted to stick his head up above the windshield so as to feel the breeze. “Sure, it’s a little cold sometimes, but you’re basically wearing a fur coat so you’ll be fine.”
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
I would like to thank Dr. Lynne Bartholomew Goltra, CW4 (Ret.) Matt Hastings, and Gary Reeder for their technical expertise and advice in the writing of Bloody Sunday.
Thank you to my wonderful agent, Nicole James, and my brilliant editor, Keith Kahla. As they do with every book, Nicole and Keith were partners at every point and pushed me to write the best book I was capable of.
At St. Martin’s Press and Macmillan Audio, I’m grateful to everyone for the tireless effort and enthusiasm you give to my books. Thank you all, and in particular Sally Richardson, Jennifer Enderlin, Andrew Martin, George Witte, Alice Pfeifer, Martin Quinn, Jeff Capshew, Jeanette Zwart, Paul Hochman, Hector DeJean, Alison Ziegler, Joseph Brosnan, Rafal Gibek, Ervin Serrano, Robert Allen, and of course, Keith.
Thank you also to Ryan Steck, Adrian King, Mike Bursaw, Joseph Finder, Barbara Peters, and Mark Greaney.
Thanks to the men and women of the U.S. Armed Forces for protecting my freedom to write, and for your courageous service to the United States of America.
Of course, without my readers my books would be like the proverbial tree falling in the forest. Thank you everyone who reads my books. Whether it’s at book signing or through your notes and letters to me, I am humbled by your support and kindness.
To Mabel, Johnny, and Wrigley, thank you for your companionship during the writing of this book.
Finally, to my family, Shannon, Charlie, Teddy, Oscar, and Esmé, how can I even begin to express my gratitude? Esmé, your willingness to go to North Korea disguised as a shrub will never be forgotten. Oscar, putting on three hundred pounds, and dying your hair black so you could pretend to be Kim Jong-un was selfless and amazing. Teddy, the way you learned Korean just so you could yell at me in another language was awe-inspiring. Charlie, trying to blow me up with a nuclear bomb so as to make me understand how that feels was not only appreciated but exhilarating as well. Finally, Shannon, thank you for locking me in the basement all of last fall and feeding me only bread and water. You enabled me to not only shed a few unwanted pounds but also to find that level of authenticity that I strive for in my books.
On a more serious note, thank you to my beautiful, patient, and endlessly wonderful family. Your love, support, and humor are the winds in my sails.
ALSO BY BEN COES
Power Down
Coup d’État
The Last Refuge
Eye for an Eye
Independence Day
First Strike
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Ben Coes is the New York Times bestselling author of international espionage thrillers, including Eye for an Eye, First Strike, and Trap the Devil. Before writing his first novel, Power Down, he worked at the White House under two presidents and was a fellow at the John F. Kennedy School of Government. He lives with his wife and four children in Wellesley, Massachusetts. You can sign up for email updates here.
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CONTENTS
Title Page
Copyright Notice
Dedication
Epigraph
Prologue
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
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
Acknowledgments
Also by Ben Coes
About the Author
Copyright
This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
BLOODY SUNDAY. Copyright © 2018 by Ben Coes. All rights reserved. For information, address St. Martin’s Press, 175 Fifth Avenue, New York, N.Y. 10010.
www.stmartins.com
The Library of Congress has cataloged the print edition as follows:
Names: Coes, Ben, author.
Title: Bloody Sunday / Ben Coes.
Description: First edition. | New York: St. Martin’s Press, 2018.
Identifiers: LCCN 2018006500 | ISBN 9781250140760 (hardcover) | ISBN 9781250140784 (ebook)
Subjects: LCSH: Intelligence officers—Fiction.|GSAFD: Spy stories. | Suspense fiction.
Classification: LCC PS3603.O2996 B58 2018 | DDC 813/.6—dc23
LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2018006500
eISBN 9781250140784
Our ebooks may be purchased in bulk for promotional, educational, or business use. Please contact the Macmillan Corporate and Premium Sales Department at 1-800-221-7945, extension 5442, or by email at MacmillanSpecialMarkets@macmillan.com.
First Edition: July 2018