deception point | Page 2

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 Chapter 92 Chapter 93 Chapter 94 Chapter 95

Chapter 96 Chapter 97 Chapter 98 Chapter 99 Chapter 100 Chapter 101 Chapter 102 Chapter 103 Chapter 104 Chapter 105 Chapter 106 Chapter 107 Chapter 108 Chapter 109 Chapter 110 Chapter 111 Chapter 112

Chapter 113 Chapter 114 Chapter 115 Chapter 116 Chapter 117 Chapter 118 Chapter 119 Chapter 120 Chapter 121 Chapter 122 Chapter 123 Chapter 124 Chapter 125 Chapter 126 Chapter 127 Chapter 128 Chapter 129

Chapter 130 Chapter 131 Chapter 132 Chapter 133 Epilogue

Prologue
Death, in this forsaken place, could come in countless forms. Geologist Charles Brophy had endured the savage splendor of this terrain for years, and yet nothing could prepare him for a fate as barbarous and unnatural as the one about to befall him. As Brophy’s four huskies pulled his sled of geologic sensing equipment across the tundra, the dogs suddenly slowed, looking skyward. “What is it, girls?” Brophy asked, stepping off the sled. Beyond the gathering storm clouds, a twin-rotor transport helicopter arched in low, hugging the glacial peaks with military dexterity. That’s odd, he thought. He never saw helicopters this far north. The aircraft landed fifty yards away, kicking up a stinging spray of granulated snow. His dogs whined, looking wary. When the chopper doors slid open, two men descended. They were dressed in fullweather whites, armed with rifles, and moved toward Brophy with urgent intent.

“Dr. Brophy?” one called. The geologist was baffled. “How did you know my name? Who are you?” “Take out your radio, please.” “I’m sorry?” “Just do it.” Bewildered, Brophy pulled his radio from his parka. “We need you to transmit an emergency communiqué. Decrease your radio frequency to one hundred kilohertz.” One hundred kilohertz? Brophy felt utterly lost. Nobody can receive anything that low. “Has there been an accident?” The second man raised his rifle and pointed it at Brophy’s head. “There’s no time to explain. Just do it.” Trembling, Brophy adjusted his transmission frequency. The first man now handed him a note card with a few lines typed on it. “Transmit this message. Now.” Brophy looked at the card. “I don’t understand. This information is incorrect. I didn’t—” The man pressed his rifle hard against the geologist’s temple. Brophy’s voice was shaking as he transmitted the bizarre message. “Good,” the first man said. “Now get yourself and your dogs into the chopper.”

At gunpoint, Brophy maneuvered his reluctant dogs and sled up a skid ramp into the cargo bay. As soon as they were settled, the chopper lifted off, turning westward. “Who the hell are you!” Brophy demanded, breaking a sweat inside his parka. And what was the meaning of that message! The men said nothing. As the chopper gained altitude, the wind tore through the open door. Brophy’s four huskies, still rigged to the loaded sled, were whimpering now. “At least close the door,” Brophy demanded. “Can’t you see my dogs are frightened!” The men did not respond. As the chopper rose to four thousand feet, it banked steeply out over a series of ice chasms and crevasses. Suddenly, the men stood. Without a word, they gripped the heavily laden sled and pushed it out the open door. Brophy watched in horror as his dogs scrambled in vain against the enormous weight. In an instant the animals disappeared, dragged howling out of the chopper. Brophy was already on his feet screaming when the men grabbed him. They hauled him to the door. Numb with fear, Brophy swung his fists, trying to fend off the powerful hands pushing him outward. It was no use. Moments later he was tumbling toward the chasms below.

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Toulos Restaurant, adjacent to Capitol Hill, boasts a politically incorrect menu of baby veal and horse carpaccio, making it an ironic hotspot for the quintessential Washingtonian power breakfast. This morning Toulos was busy—a cacophony