Splinter Cell, English edition

1

It s like being in a state of nonexistence. A vacuum. Darkness and light at the same time, and no sense of gravity. There s no air, but I know I m breathing. Certainly no sounds are present. I see and feel nothing. There are no dreams.

That s what sleep is like for me. I m blessed, I suppose. I can will myself to sleep anywhere, anytime. I didn t train to do it. It s always been that way, ever since I was a kid. I simply tell myself, It s time to sleep now. And I do it. I m sure a lot of people in the world would envy this talent. I don t take it for granted because in my business I have to catch sleep in the strangest places and at the oddest times.

I feel the pulsating pressure on my wrist. It gently pulls me out of this dimensionless world, and I slowly regain the use of my senses. I feel the warm metal against my face. I hear far-off nondescript echoes.

The OPSAT attached to my wrist continues to wake me. There s a little T-shaped rod that protrudes from the flexible band when the silent alarm goes off. The rod rocks back and forth, nudging my pulse, telling my body that it s time to rouse. When I first saw it demonstrated, it reminded me of a James Coburn spy movie from the sixties in which he played a secret agent who could stop his heart on command. This apparently put him in some kind of hibernation. He had a wristwatch with the same kind of T-shaped rod that poked him until he woke up. I remember laughing in the movie theater when I saw that. It was too ridiculous to take seriously. Now look at me.

I take a few deep breaths. The air is stale and dry inside the ventilation shaft where I spent the last six hours. I flex my hands to get the blood circulating once again. I stretch my feet, even though they re enclosed snugly in my boots.

Then I open my eyes.

There s no more light in the shaft than there was when I first climbed into it.

The OPSAT finishes its duty and the little T-shaped

A little more than thirty years ago Tom Clancy was a Maryland insurance broker with a passion for naval history. Years before, he had been an English major at Baltimore’s Loyola College and had always dreamed of writing a novel. His first effort, The Hunt for Red October, sold briskly as a result of rave reviews, then catapulted onto the New York Times bestseller list after President Reagan pronounced it “the perfect yarn.” From that day forward, Clancy established himself as an undisputed master at blending exceptional realism and authenticity, intricate plotting, and razor-sharp suspense. He passed away in October 2013.