{"product_id":"the-wolves-isbn-9781101982761","title":"The Wolves","description":"\u003cb\u003eCIA agent John Wells refuses to let a privileged businessman walk away from a crime in this novel of modern suspense from the #1 \u003ci\u003eNew York Times\u003c\/i\u003e-bestselling author.\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e John Wells has just barely managed to stop an operation designed to drive the United States and Iran into war, but the instigator himself disappeared behind an impenetrable war of security. Now it’s time for him to pay, and Wells has made it his personal mission. There are plenty of crosscurrents at work, though. The White House doesn’t want anybody stirring the pot; his old CIA bosses have their own agendas; other countries are starting to sniff around, sensing something unusual. It is when Russia and China enter the mix, however, that the whole affair is set to combust. With alarming speed, Wells is once again on his own...and the wolves are closing in.\u003cb\u003ePraise for \u003c\/b\u003e\u003ci\u003e\u003cb\u003eThe Wolves\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Exhilarating...when the call of duty summons, Wells rises to the occasion; his emotions may be mixed, but he still puts on a great show for readers.”—\u003ci\u003ePublishers Weekly\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \u003cbr\u003e“[An] adrenaline-filled thriller...Fans of the John Wells series won’t be disappointed. They’ll agree with his enemies that if Wells isn’t Superman, he’s super something.”—\u003ci\u003eKirkus Reviews\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \u003cbr\u003e“As always, Berenson brilliantly blends global politics into an adrenaline-pulsing spy novel. But, most of all, there is Wells, a stone-cold killer who nevertheless does what we all wish we could do: stand up to the powerful and make them pay.”—\u003ci\u003eBooklist\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \u003cbr\u003e“Masterful...\u003ci\u003eThe Wolves\u003c\/i\u003e is driven by a terrific and well-executed plot, but where Berenson truly shines is in his explanation of how certain parts of the world work. These would include spycraft and the dark tradeoffs made by governments at the highest and lowest levels.”—Bookreporter.com\u003cbr\u003e \u003cbr\u003e“Berenson’s John Wells series has lost none of its power, novelty, and excitement. Wells is unique in contemporary thriller fiction [and] has become a richer character with each new story.”—\u003ci\u003eConnecticut Post\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \u003cbr\u003e“Berenson’s style is as seductive as his storytelling, and \u003ci\u003eThe Wolves\u003c\/i\u003e has a bite that doesn’t let go from the first page straight through to the last.”—\u003ci\u003eThe Providence Journal\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cb\u003eAlex Berenson\u003c\/b\u003e is the #1 \u003ci\u003eNew York Times\u003c\/i\u003e bestselling author of the John Wells series, including \u003ci\u003eThe Faithful Spy\u003c\/i\u003e, which won the 2007 Edgar Award for best first novel. As a reporter for \u003ci\u003eThe New York Times\u003c\/i\u003e, Berenson covered topics ranging from the occupation of Iraq—where he was stationed for three months—to the flooding of New Orleans, to the world pharmaceutical industry, to the financial crimes of Bernie Madoff. He graduated from Yale University in 1994 with degrees in history and economics, and lives in New York City.\u003cb\u003ePrologue\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cb\u003eWASHINGTON, D.C.\u003cbr\u003e \u003c\/b\u003e \u003cbr\u003eThe President wanted to see John Wells.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThe feeling wasn’t mutual. \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eWells sat in the emergency room at the Virginia Hospital Center in \u003cbr\u003eArlington, waiting for a doctor to set the foot he’d broken a day before \u003cbr\u003eon another continent, when his phone buzzed. A blocked number. \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Mr. Wells?” \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“If you say so.” \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Steve Lipsher at the White House. The President would like to \u003cbr\u003einvite you to a meeting in the Oval Office. Four p.m.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Shafer gonna be there?” Ellis Shafer, a CIA lifer and Wells’s closest \u003cbr\u003efriend. Currently stuck inside a federal jail not five miles from this hospital, \u003cbr\u003ehis reward for helping stop a war. \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Just you, the President, and Ms. Green.” Donna Green, the National \u003cbr\u003eSecurity Advisor. \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Then no. I can’t.” \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThe silence that followed suggested that no one had ever turned \u003cbr\u003eLipsher down before. \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Someone will call you,” Lipsher finally said, and hung up. \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eWells was tempted to turn off the phone. Five minutes later, it \u003cbr\u003ebuzzed again. “John. It’s Donna Green. Justice is drafting the release \u003cbr\u003eorder, but we have to find a judge, and it’s Sunday, remember?” \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“You locked him up easy enough.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“We’ll get it done. Promise.” \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“What about the senator? He coming, too?” Wells meant Vinny \u003cbr\u003eDuto, the former CIA director, now senator from Pennsylvania. For \u003cbr\u003ethe last month, Wells, Shafer, and Duto had secretly worked together \u003cbr\u003eagainst a billionaire casino mogul named Aaron Duberman who’d tried \u003cbr\u003eto trick the United States into invading Iran. Duberman’s plan had \u003cbr\u003enearly succeeded. Shown false evidence that Iran wanted to smuggle a \u003cbr\u003enuclear weapon into the United States, the President had set a deadline \u003cbr\u003efor Iran to open its borders or face invasion.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eBut barely twelve hours before, Wells and Duto had delivered proof \u003cbr\u003eof Duberman’s plot to Green, forcing the President to back down. In a \u003cbr\u003emidnight speech from the Oval Office, he called off the attack. \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eWells had expected that the President’s next move would be to \u003cbr\u003epunish Duberman for what he’d done. Expected and hoped. Green’s \u003cbr\u003etone, simultaneously wary and pleading, suggested otherwise.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“No Duto,” Green said now. “And that’s not negotiable.” \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eWells wasn’t surprised. Green and the President had forced Duto \u003cbr\u003eout of the CIA two years before. Now Duto had the upper hand. He \u003cbr\u003ecould destroy the President simply by revealing the truth about the \u003cbr\u003eway Duberman had suckered the United States. Though Duto had \u003cbr\u003ealready hinted to Wells that he had another agenda. As a price for his \u003cbr\u003esilence, he would make the White House help him in the next presidential \u003cbr\u003eelection. A straight power play, standard operating procedure \u003cbr\u003efor Duto, whom Wells imagined kept a shrine to Nixon in the basement \u003cbr\u003eof his mansion. \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Fine,” Wells said. If Green didn’t know that Wells disliked Duto \u003cbr\u003ealmost as much as she did, Wells saw no reason to enlighten her. “I’ll \u003cbr\u003esee you at six. Give you time to get Ellis out, me to get my foot set.” \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“You’re picking the time for a meeting with the President?” \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Come to an emergency room without hundred-dollar bills taped \u003cbr\u003eto your forehead, see how long it takes them to fix you.” \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eAt 5:45 p.m., Wells offered his driver’s license to the White House gate \u003cbr\u003eguards and limped toward the West Wing entrance. The worst of the \u003cbr\u003ewinter was over. Wells wore only jeans and a bright red T-shirt that \u003cbr\u003eread \u003ci\u003eChicago Homicide: Our Day Starts When Your Day Ends\u003c\/i\u003e. Hardly appropriate \u003cbr\u003efor meeting the President. But he couldn’t make himself care. \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eAs Wells passed through the metal detectors, he knew he should \u003cbr\u003efeel good. He and Duto and Shafer had kept the United States out of \u003cbr\u003ewar. Yet Duberman was still in his fortified mansion in Tel Aviv. Meanwhile, \u003cbr\u003ethe President’s back-and-forth had damaged the United States \u003cbr\u003ealready. An hour after the President’s announcement, Iran’s Ayatollah \u003cbr\u003eKhamenei made his own speech. He thanked Allah for “defeating the \u003cbr\u003eZionist-American crusaders” and promised that “American lies will \u003cbr\u003enot stop our mighty Islamic Republic from using its nuclear facilities as \u003cbr\u003eit sees fit.” The last four words were new. In the past, Iran had insisted it \u003cbr\u003ewould develop its nuclear program only for peaceful purposes. \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThen Russia and China said they would immediately lift all economic \u003cbr\u003esanctions against Iran. “The United States must learn not to \u003cbr\u003emeddle with other nations,” Russia’s Foreign Minister said, in a fingerwagging \u003cbr\u003electure that was more than slightly ironic, given his own country’s \u003cbr\u003erecent adventures in the Ukraine. \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThe White House confined itself to repeating the points the President \u003cbr\u003ehad made the night before. \u003ci\u003eWe will fully review the evidence that \u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003ci\u003eIran was trying to smuggle weapons-grade uranium into the United States. \u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003ci\u003eThe ultimatum for an invasion no longer serves either side\u003c\/i\u003e. The Pentagon \u003cbr\u003ehad already leaked plans to bring home the troops it had just flown to \u003cbr\u003eTurkey and Afghanistan. A\u003ci\u003e New York Post\u003c\/i\u003e headline summed up the \u003cbr\u003epopular view: “Thanks, Mr. President. We just lost a war we didn’t \u003cbr\u003eeven fight!” \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eSo Wells wasn’t surprised that the mood inside the White House \u003cbr\u003ewas grim. Though it was Sunday, the West Wing was crowded. Presidential \u003cbr\u003eaides trudged along the narrow hallways, staring at their phones \u003cbr\u003efor bad news. In the Oval Office anteroom, Wells found Shafer. He was \u003cbr\u003efreshly scrubbed and in his best suit, but the bags under his eyes suggested \u003cbr\u003ehe hadn’t enjoyed his time in jail. Or maybe Wells had just forgotten \u003cbr\u003ehow old Shafer was. They had first met when Shafer was in his \u003cbr\u003elate forties. Wells supposed part of him still saw Shafer that way, thick \u003cbr\u003ecurly hair and a cynic’s smile. Now Shafer’s hair had become a white \u003cbr\u003ehorseshoe at the fringes of his skull. His shoulders were bent and narrow \u003cbr\u003efrom too many years in front of a computer. \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eHe still had the smile, though, the one that warped the edges of \u003cbr\u003ehis lips. He gave it to Wells. “Seriously? Chicago Homicide? I’m the one \u003cbr\u003ewho goes for pointless acts of rebellion.” \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Learned it from you, Dad. So don’t I get a hug? Or you got enough \u003cbr\u003eman-to-man contact the last few days?” Wells couldn’t talk to anyone \u003cbr\u003eelse on earth this way. \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“I was in there, no way of knowing what was happening, this siren \u003cbr\u003ecame on like they were evacuating the place, then the intercom, a voice \u003cbr\u003eI’d never heard, \u003ci\u003eWe have decided to broadcast the President’s speech tonight \u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003ci\u003ebecause of its importance\u003c\/i\u003e. Five words in, I knew you won.” \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“We won, Ellis.” \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Lucky us. Now we’re here for our prize.” \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThe door to the Oval Office opened. “Gentlemen,” Donna Green \u003cbr\u003esaid. \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThe President was in his mid-fifties, nearly as tall as Wells was, \u003cbr\u003ethough not nearly as muscled. He wore a tailored blue suit and white \u003cbr\u003eshirt. No tie. He extended his hand and looked Wells over. His eyes \u003cbr\u003ewere resigned, like Wells was an unwanted suitor marrying his daughter. \u003cbr\u003e\u003ci\u003eNo idea what she sees in you, but I guess we’re stuck with you\u003c\/i\u003e. Still, he \u003cbr\u003eradiated command and power, the arrogance of the man who always \u003cbr\u003ehad the last word. Beside him, Green was small and frumpy, in a wrinkled \u003cbr\u003eblue sweater and a shapeless gray skirt. Like Shafer, she seemed \u003cbr\u003ealmost aggressively unfashionable.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Please.” The President indicated the twin yellow couches in the \u003cbr\u003ecenter of the room. “Anyone need a drink?” \u003ci\u003eNothing formal, just a \u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003ci\u003efriendly chat. \u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eWells and Shafer shook their heads. \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“I could ask about your foot,” the President said to Wells. “Offer to \u003cbr\u003esign that cast. But I have a feeling you’re not in the mood.” \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Let’s just stipulate that we’ve had the small talk,” Shafer said. “You \u003cbr\u003ewere charming.” \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“As always. I want to apologize to you, Mr. Shafer. It goes without \u003cbr\u003esaying that we should never have detained you—” \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“But I’m guilty. I leaked that information, sir.” \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThe President’s smile didn’t waver. “You’ve both done a great \u003cbr\u003eservice.” \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“You’re taking this well. Considering Ladbrokes is making book on \u003cbr\u003ewhen you’ll resign.” \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Good for them. I can’t say I was happy when Donna came to me \u003cbr\u003elast night. But I’m not angry at \u003ci\u003eyou\u003c\/i\u003e. The CIA failed. I failed. We shouldn’t \u003cbr\u003ehave needed you. But we did. And for that, I thank you. At some point, \u003cbr\u003eI’d love to hear the story, how you did it, start to finish.” \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eWells found himself impressed with the man’s apparent sincerity. \u003cbr\u003eThen he heard Shafer. “Very good, sir.” A parody of an English servant’s \u003cbr\u003eaccent. “Very, very good.” \u003ci\u003eVeddy veddy guhd\u003c\/i\u003e. He golf-clapped. Twice. \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eUntil now, Wells hadn’t realized the depth of Shafer’s anger. He \u003cbr\u003ewondered how far Shafer would push. How much the President would \u003cbr\u003etake. \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“You’re so happy, how come you didn’t tell the country the truth? \u003cbr\u003eYou lied your ass off last night. Now you’re about to ask us to keep our \u003cbr\u003emouths shut like good little soldiers. After we tell you the story, of \u003cbr\u003ecourse. Guys like you always want to hear what happened. From your \u003cbr\u003ebulletproof offices. Why don’t you ask my man here”—Shafer nodded \u003cbr\u003eat Wells—“about the nightmares he gets. You think you want the truth, \u003cbr\u003ebut you don’t even want the truth’s second cousin, what it’s like out \u003cbr\u003ethere.” \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Ellis—” Wells said. \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“You think because we gave you an enema with the facts last night \u003cbr\u003eand you had no choice but to back off your war, everything’s cool, \u003cbr\u003ewe’ll keep our mouths shut. And in return we get a secret medal we \u003cbr\u003elook at for five minutes before you lock it in a safe and promise that \u003cbr\u003eour grandchildren get it fifty years after we’re dead? Shiny and gold? \u003cbr\u003eHeroic Workers of the Revolution? Tractor on it?” \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Mr. Shafer—” \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“I’m not finished. \u003ci\u003eSir\u003c\/i\u003e. What about Duto? All he wants is your job \u003cbr\u003eand you can’t give it to him right now, not unless you’ve secretly rewritten \u003cbr\u003ethe Constitution. But I bet you promised him you’ll make it \u003cbr\u003ehappen as best you can. Which would be a disaster, in case you don’t \u003cbr\u003eknow. But you don’t care. All you want is to stay in here.” \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eShafer wiped his forehead. “Now I’m finished.” \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eA flush climbed the President’s neck like an infection. He reached \u003cbr\u003efor the pitcher of water on the table between the couches, poured a \u003cbr\u003eglass, drank it down. Wells figured he was buying time to cool off. Yet \u003cbr\u003ewhen he spoke, his voice was even. \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“I had that coming. I lied like a rug to the whole country. About \u003cbr\u003eDuberman, all of it. Didn’t see a choice.” \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“The truth is always a choice—” \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“My turn. I let you talk. Should I have told the world that one man, \u003cbr\u003ea civilian, hired a couple of dozen operatives, almost faked us into \u003cbr\u003estarting a war? Would that have made us look better? Everyone’s blaming \u003cbr\u003eme. Let ’em. Let them say I was bluffing, the Iranians beat me. I \u003cbr\u003eknow this stains my record forever. I’ll take that. Better than the alternative.” \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThe President rattled off the sentences quickly and with an almost \u003cbr\u003eunnatural precision. Wells wondered if he’d slept at all the night before, \u003cbr\u003eif he’d taken a little helper this morning to stay awake. \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“You want to know what I want,” the President said. “I am not \u003cbr\u003etelling you to keep your mouths shut. Not threatening you. Not implicitly, \u003cbr\u003eexplicitly, in any way. You want to call \u003ci\u003eThe New York Times\u003c\/i\u003e, go ahead. \u003cbr\u003eTell ’em everything. We won’t deny it. We won’t split hairs about what \u003cbr\u003eyou told us and when. You want the truth out, it’ll come. My only request. \u003cbr\u003ePlease tell me in advance, so I can be ready.” \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“To resign?” \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThe President poured himself a fresh glass of water, looked into it \u003cbr\u003eas if it might hold the answer. For a man with no leverage, he was \u003cbr\u003emaking a decent case, Wells thought. Neither threatening nor begging. \u003cbr\u003eTreating them as equals, telling them the choice was theirs. \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Probably how it shakes out.” \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThe bald, liver-spotted truth. They could make him quit, if they \u003cbr\u003echose. Wells wondered if he could substitute his judgment for that of \u003cbr\u003e320 million Americans. Though if the voters knew the truth, would \u003cbr\u003ethey keep this man in power? \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“But you’d rather we didn’t.” Shafer spoke quietly now.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThe President didn’t bother to answer.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eShafer looked at Wells. “I said my piece. You?” \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThe question meant Shafer hadn’t decided. Otherwise, he would \u003cbr\u003ehave forced the issue, dragged Wells along. Wells looked at Green. \u003cbr\u003e“You’ve been quiet.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“I’ve been listening. Like I should have last week.” \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Can he survive? Or is he ruined?”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eGreen’s eyebrows rose. “You’re asking me to tell you if I think he \u003cbr\u003eshould quit? In front of him? And you expect an honest answer.” \u003cbr\u003e“I do, too,” the President said. \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“And if I say it’s time?” \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Donna, if I’ve lost you, then I’ve lost everyone.” \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“All right, then,” Green said to Wells. “The truth? We’re better off \u003cbr\u003ewith him. As badly as we screwed the pooch, you want to air all this?” \u003cbr\u003e“Suppose we don’t air it. He quits in a couple weeks, gives whatever \u003cbr\u003ereason he likes.” Talking about the man like he wasn’t in the room \u003cbr\u003ewith them. \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“That’s worse. And either way, the Veep is not the guy for this job. \u003cbr\u003eHe wants to be liked too much. Talks too much.” Green leaned toward \u003cbr\u003eWells. “I know we made a huge mistake. But in the end, you showed us \u003cbr\u003ethe proof, we listened. No war. Now give us the chance to fix the damage \u003cbr\u003ewe’ve done. If we can’t, you can go public anytime.” \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eWells had spent the last dozen years making life-and-death decisions, \u003cbr\u003ebut he felt unequipped for this one. He looked at the President. \u003cbr\u003e“If I agree—and I’m not saying I am—you flush the CIA. Hebley, all his \u003cbr\u003eguys. And Ellis gets to stay at Langley as long as he likes. He’s ninety \u003cbr\u003eand drooling, doesn’t matter.” \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Ninety and drooling?” Shafer said. \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Protection for my son, my ex-wife. I ask, the Secret Service \u003cbr\u003ewatches them. Forever.” \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Not a problem,” the President said. \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eWells had the uncomfortable feeling that the President had expected \u003cbr\u003ehis demands exactly. He decided to shake the tree. “And I’ll need \u003cbr\u003eten million dollars.”","brand":"G.P. 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