by Brad Thor
The man didn’t have to say it. Harvath knew he and his wife were seriously considering removing their daughter from life support. He asked them not to do anything until he could come back and be there. It seemed like a reasonable request. Though he and Tracy hadn’t been together long, their relationship was intensely close and committed.
The elder Hastings’s response took Harvath completely off-guard. “Scot, you’re a good man. We know you cared for Tracy, but Barbara and I feel this is a family decision.”
Cared? They were talking about her as if she were already dead. Immediately, Harvath knew what he had to do. He’d find a way to get into the hospital without being apprehended. He had to. He had to be with Tracy and more important, he needed to speak with Tracy’s father, man-to-man.
Harvath was ready to alert his pilots to file a flight plan for D. C. when an email appeared in his gmail account that changed everything.
Chapter 103
C laudia had found a judge with a real thing against terrorists who used Swiss bank accounts to fund their actions. The judge moved quickly, granting Claudia everything she asked for.
Attached to the email was a transaction history for the Wegelin & Company account. Harvath scanned through it, paying close attention to activity that had taken place subsequent to the night Adara Nidal was supposedly killed. One of the first things he noticed was a series of payments to something called the Dei Glicini e Ulivella in Florence.
Harvath did a Google search and discovered that Dei Glicini e Ulivella was an exclusive private hospital. It had an elite plastic surgery team billed as “one of the best” in Europe. Among their many specialties was the treatment of severe burn victims, including reconstructive surgery, rehabilitation, and recuperation.
He didn’t know how she had done it, but Adara Nidal had somehow survived. She had not only managed to get away from the scene of the explosion, but she had also managed to get to someone inside the Italian law enforcement apparatus to sign off on one of the charred corpses from the scene as being hers. It was an elaborate vanishing act, but she had done it. Harvath didn’t want to believe it, but the proof was right in front of his face, and he had learned a long time ago not to underestimate any of the terrorists he went up against.
Skipping ahead to the most recent transactions, he came to something even more troubling. Shortly before each of the attacks, money had been transferred to a nearby bank. Harvath scanned the list and ticked off the dates and locations of all the attacks so far—Bank of America in Washington, D. C.; California Bank & Trust in San Diego; Wells Fargo Bank in Salt Lake City, Utah; Washington Mutual Bank in McLean, Virginia; Chase Bank in Hillsboro, Virginia; First Coastal Bank in Virginia Beach, Virginia; and finally, U. S. Bank in Lake Geneva, Wisconsin.
As the pilots were filing their flight plan and readying the plane for takeoff, Harvath contacted Ron Parker and gave him instructions to overnight the items he’d left at Elk Mountain to the Abbey Resort in Fontana, Wisconsin.
After Parker took down the information, he asked Harvath how much longer Finney’s jet and its two pilots had to remain in Zurich. Finney had an important guest for whom he needed the plane and its crew.
Harvath told Parker to thank Finney again on his behalf and to assure him that he wouldn’t need it too much longer.
It had all been part of that second favor he’d asked Claudia for. When Kevin McCauliff had sent Harvath a follow-up email from outside the NGA with additional details he’d pulled about Wegelin & Company’s being the source of the money routed to Brazil, he’d included a warning. Though he couldn’t prove it, he had a sense that both his phone and his work computer were being monitored and suggested Harvath be on his guard.
From that email, Harvath had devised a plan of how to be in two places at once and how to make it work to his advantage.
His country club chat with Jim Vaile, the director of the Central Intelligence, notwithstanding, he had no illusions about what would happen to him the next time Morrell and his team caught up with him.
At best, they’d take him back into custody, and if that happened, Harvath knew Morrell’s men would see to it that he didn’t escape. And at worst, one of Morrell’s people would put a bullet in him.
Either would remove him from the game and give Roussard an open field to finish his rampage. Harvath couldn’t let that happen. As far as he could see, he was the only chance the people in his life had. The president was mired in gridlock and regardless of his promises to the contrary, wasn’t capable of stopping Roussard.
Morrell and his people were good, and Harvath was tired of looking over his shoulder for them. They needed to be drawn off-guard and taken out of play. That was why Harvath had gotten Tim Finney to send his empty jet to Zurich.
Harvath knew the FAA would be monitoring the jet’s flight plans. After Kevin McCauliff’s word of caution it seemed like the only way to go. If Morrell and his team knew about the Wegelin & Company account, and if they saw Finney’s jet heading for Zurich, it might be enough to make them believe Harvath was on it.
To make the bait even more attractive, Harvath had Claudia register him at a Zurich hotel under one of his DHS aliases, and the Troll established an electronic credit card trail around the city that would all but confirm his presence. While his professional aliases were in no way public knowledge, he was confident that Morrell and his people would be looking for him to pop on the grid with one of them. It was exactly what he would do in their place.
The idea was to lure Morrell and his team to the hotel where Claudia’s husband, Horst, and his tactical team would be waiting to take them into custody.
Claudia had assured him that under Switzerland’s rigid antiterrorism laws, if any of Morrell’s men were carrying weapons of any kind, she could hold them for quite some time before actually filing any charges. The only hitch was that she had to catch them first.
Chapter 104
CAMP PEARY, VIRGINIA
R ick Morrell didn’t like any of it. It had fallen right into his lap. It was too sloppy, especially for a guy like Harvath, and that’s why he decided to pull the plug.
Standing his team down, he put up with all their bullshit complaints as he had them unload the plane and stack their gear back in the two trucks they had used to drive out to the CIA’s private airstrip.
“I still don’t get it,” said Mike Raymond as they passed the final checkpoint and headed toward the highway. “It’s almost like you don’t want to catch this guy.”
“If that’s what you believe then you are just as stupid as Harvath thinks you are,” replied Morrell.
“What are you talking about?”
“I’m talking about Harvath completely disappearing from the grid. Nobody sees him, nobody hears from him, and then suddenly, whammo, he pops back up.”
“Correction,” stated Raymond. “Suddenly he gets in contact with someone the NSA already has under surveillance. That’s how we got our lead.”
Morrell looked at his subordinate and realized he was going to have to connect the rest of the dots for him. “And it doesn’t bother you that McCauliff started back scrubbing all of his data trails and had the DOD do a pickup sweep on all his phone lines? He might not have known when he was talking to Harvath that someone was peeping on him, but he figured it out pretty fast.”
“You’re paranoid. Even if McCauliff did know about it, it didn’t change the nature of the intel he gave Harvath.”
“Meaning?” asked Morrell.
“Meaning Harvath has been off the grid because he went to ground. It wasn’t until he got something actionable that he popped back up.”
“And the fact that he popped back up using one of his known DHS aliases and a credit card doesn’t bother you?”
Mike Raymond shrugged his shoulders. “Switzerland is fucking expensive. Show me one hotel that doesn’t expect you to present a credit card upon check-in.”
“How about a hostel?” offered Morrell. “Or a Gästezimmer in a private hous
e? He could use a campground. He could even pick up some unwitting woman and shack up at her place. This is tradecraft 101.”
“Sure, maybe, but—”
“He knows we’re watching his buddy Finney’s aircraft,” said Morrell, plowing on, “yet he’d use it anyway to go to Zurich? I don’t buy it. It’s too good a trail.”
“So just like that you pull the plug?”
“Listen, Harvath’s problem has always been that he thinks he’s smarter than everyone else. You read his jacket yourself.”
“We all read his jacket, but what if Harvath set this all up because he knew you’d react this way.”
Morrell smiled. “He’s smart, but he’s not that smart.”
Raymond shook his head. “Either way, it probably doesn’t make much difference. Even if he was in Zurich, he’s already got a head start on us. We could make the trip only to discover he’s already long gone.”
“That’s also one of the reasons I changed my mind.”
“But what if you’re wrong?”
“And Harvath really is in Zurich?” asked Morrell.
Raymond nodded.
“If Finney’s plane wasn’t a decoy and Harvath was dumb enough to use it, we can still track it. Let’s wait and see what happens.”
“What about the hotel Harvath supposedly registered at?”
“I’ve already got that covered.”
“Are you going to use an agency person from our embassy over there?” asked Raymond.
“No. The DCI was very clear. This needs to be kept absolutely quiet. I’ve got a friend; an ex-DOJ guy who retired and moved over to Copenhagen. He can go in and check things out for us.”
“You mean that book dealer? Malone?”
“Yeah, he owes me a favor. He can be in Zurich in a few hours,” replied Morrell.
“And you trust him?”
“Completely. He’s a smart guy. He knows what he’s doing.”
Raymond looked at Morrell. “And what if Malone calls and says Harvath really is in Zurich?”
Morrell scoffed. “We’ll jump off that bridge when we come to it. Personally, I think we’ve got a much better chance of Harvath turning up here in the States than we do overseas.”
“I hope you’re right.”
“Trust me,” replied Morrell. “When it comes to Harvath, I know exactly what I’m talking about.”
Chapter 105
FONTANA, WISCONSIN
K nown as the “Hamptons of the Midwest,” Geneva Lake and the handful of resort towns and villages that surrounded its crystal-clear, spring-fed waters were a vacationer’s paradise. There was boating, sailing, swimming, hiking, fishing, shopping, and amazing golf.
Thirty-six holes plus lunch was what Harvath offered his pilots when he booked them into the Abbey Resort along with himself and asked if he could have use of their rental car in exchange.
The pilots were more than happy to comply. While they had an okay per diem, the sitting around and waiting for a client part of their jobs was normally the worst part. They didn’t always get to stay in a resort of the Abbey’s caliber and get thirty-six holes of golf and lunch to boot.
The arrangement worked out well for Harvath too. He didn’t want to let anyone know where he was, and if he used his real ID or credit cards, anyone who was looking for him would instantly know where he was. And as useful as the Hans Brauner alias was, it didn’t come with a driving permit.
Of course Harvath could have stolen a car, but in such a small community that was something he would have done only if he were desperate.
Meg’s wedding and reception were the day after tomorrow and were to be held at the Lake Geneva Country Club. The club, or LGCC as it was commonly called, sat on the southeastern shore of the lake. It was an idyllic setting for a wedding.
What Harvath couldn’t figure out, though, was how Roussard was going to spin the last plague and cause the waters to run red with blood. With the president in attendance, security was going to be beyond tight. In fact, no matter how badly Harvath wanted to go take a look at LGCC and the security the Secret Service had put in place, he knew it was pointless. He’d been a presidential advance team leader. The club would be locked up tighter than Fort Knox.
Even coming in via the water was out of the question. As boring a job as it was standing guard over a location in advance of a presidential visit, the local, state, and federal law enforcement officers who would be there right now would be taking their jobs very seriously. No one ever wanted to have something happen to the president, especially on their watch. Harvath knew that firsthand, and he knew it the hard way, because it had happened to him once.
The more Harvath had thought about it, the more targeting Meg’s wedding made sense. Roussard would get a lot of bang for his buck. Not only could he gain international fame and notoriety for the attack, but the killer could also harm additional people who were very significant to Harvath. There had to be something Harvath could do to stop him.
But first, he had to understand what his play was for Lake Geneva and Meg’s wedding. Did he have access to extra muscle? And just as important, as this was the final plague and seemed to involve the president as well, would his mother, Adara, show?
With payments recently made from her account in Switzerland to the private burn treatment hospital in Italy, Harvath doubted it. If Adara were up to it, she would have been the one hunting him, not her son. Harvath and Adara would have their final dance soon enough, but before that, he needed to stop Roussard once and for all.
The basic questions of what, why, where, when, and how ran through Harvath’s mind as he tried to fit the pieces together.
The what was the attack itself. The why was something Harvath had tried to understand but couldn’t, at least not one hundred percent. Adara Nidal wanted revenge for Harvath’s thwarting her plans to ignite a Muslim holy war with Israel, and she was using her son to exact that revenge. That was the best Harvath could make of it.
The where was the Lake Geneva Country Club and the when was sometime during Meg’s wedding or reception. Her nuptials were set to be one of the social events of the year. Her guest list undoubtedly read like a Who’s Who of Chicago elite. The wealthy, the beautiful, and the powerful would all be there. On top of that, both the mayor of Chicago and the president of the United States would be in attendance. If it was successful, Roussard’s attack would make headlines and be felt around the world.
Harvath had four out of five criteria for stopping Roussard’s attack figured out. He had the what, a good chunk of the why, as well as the where and when. All he needed now was to uncover the how.
Chapter 106
I t was a perfect evening. The temperature was in the low seventies, all of the stars were out, and a light breeze was blowing in off the lake.
Meg Cassidy’s friend and next-door neighbor, Jean Stevens, had opened all her doors and windows. This wasn’t the kind of night you wasted by sealing yourself up in your cottage and running the air-conditioner.
They had been blessed with an amazing Indian summer. There was no telling how much longer it would last and Jean Stevens intended to squeeze every last ounce of enjoyment out of the season before she returned to the Chicago suburbs and another interminable Chicago winter.
Refilling her glass with sailboat-shaped ice cubes, she poured herself another vodka and tonic. As she turned to walk back out onto her porch, she got the scare of her life.
Before she could scream, the figure standing in front of her placed his hand over her mouth.
Cautioning her not to make a sound, the man turned out the lights and led her to one of the chairs at her breakfast table.
“What the hell are you doing?” she asked as Harvath removed his hand from her mouth and let her sit down. “You almost gave me a heart attack.”
“Surprise,” answered Harvath as he pulled out a chair for himself and sat down.
“Surprise is right. What are you doing here? Meg told me you never RSVPed for the wedding.
She had no idea if you were coming or not. It’s rather poor form not to respond, you know, especially when Meg was big enough to invite you. Just because you two didn’t work out is no reason not to be courteous. Wait a second,” she said as she paused. “Where are my manners? Come here and give me a hug.”
Harvath stood and gave her a hug. Jean hadn’t changed a bit. Meg had always referred to her as Auntie Mame meets Lily Pulitzer. She was a warm and endearing character. It was obvious why she and Meg had become such close friends. To know Jean Stevens was to love her.
“So are you here to convince Meg to drop that jackass she’s marrying and run away with you?”
“Todd’s not that bad, Jean,” replied Harvath.
“The hell he isn’t,” said Stevens as she got up to fix Harvath a drink. “He’s manipulative, controlling, overbearing—”
“And he’s also the man she picked to spend the rest of her life with,” stated Harvath as he held up his hand and waved Jean back from the bar.
“Then you’re not here to convince her to marry you instead,” she replied flatly as she retook her seat.
“I’m afraid not.”
“That’s too bad; you two were good together.”
“I need you to do me a favor, please,” said Harvath, changing the subject.
“You just name it, honey,” replied Jean. Her bangled wrist jangled as she patted him on his knee.
Harvath removed an envelope from his pocket. “I need you to give this to her.”
Jean Stevens arched her left eyebrow. “I’m sensing the possibility of some eleventh-hour fireworks here,” she said with a smile. Reaching for the cordless phone behind her, she added, “Why don’t I just call her? I’m sure she’s tearing her hair out with all the last-minute details, but I think she could find a minute or two to come over and say hello. Seeing you, maybe she’d come to her senses.”