Code of Conduct

by Brad Thor

  As they did, Nicholas’s facial recognition and data mining programs began to return hits. The men were not South African military. They were former South African military. Recces—former Special Forces from the 5 Special Forces Regiment based in Phalaborwa in northern Limpopo Province.

  Just because they were no longer active military didn’t mean they weren’t currently working for some other part of the South African government, like its intelligence division. But if that were the case, why would they have been involved in wiping out a charitable medical clinic and the adjacent village?

  Harvath felt far more certain that the men were mercenaries of some sort, contractors. That of course, brought up all sorts of questions—most importantly who had hired them and what had they been hired to do? In order to get that answer, he was going to have to have a little talk with their head man. But before that could happen, they were going to have to ID him.

  Twelve hours later, the gates opened and they got a clear view of one of the SUVs leaving. There were only two occupants—a driver in his forties and a passenger somewhere in his sixties. Nicholas confirmed that the black phone was in the vehicle and on the move. Harvath sent him the pictures they had taken.

  An hour later, Nicholas called back. He had identified their target.

  “The older man is your guy. His name is Jan Hendrik,” he said as he transmitted the man’s service record to Harvath’s computer. “All of the men we have ID’d so far served under him. Hendrik was their commanding officer.”

  “What else do we know?”

  “Nothing. I can’t find anything. No credit card bills, no parking tickets. They’re ghosts.”

  Harvath scrolled through several of the photos on his laptop. These guys might be good at covering their tracks, but they were still men and men made mistakes, even the best of them. Especially when the right pressure was applied.

  Pulling up satellite footage of the neighborhood, Harvath gestured Ash over and began to lay out his plan.

  CHAPTER 24

  * * *

  The jammer Nicholas had sent had been born out of necessity in Iraq. U.S. troops used much larger versions to help disrupt cell phone and other wireless transmissions as their vehicles were rolled. This, in turn, made it incredibly difficult for the enemy to remotely detonate roadside bombs.

  On one of his ops in Syria, Harvath had used a similar device to part a terrorist from the civilians he was hiding behind so that he could take him out. He was hoping to conduct a similar operation here. The problem, though, was that his current target was much more sophisticated and there were several additional layers of difficulty.

  Putting a bag over someone’s head was always more dangerous and more complicated than laying up on a rooftop and putting a bullet between their eyes. Harvath would know. He had done both, many times.

  The unknown element was buy-in from Asher and his men. While their SAS motto was Who Dares Wins, Harvath had taken them far beyond their agreed-to scope-of-work. Escorting a doctor and a civilian representative from a medical charity was one thing, but snatching a former South African Special Forces operator off the streets of Bunia was something entirely different.

  Harvath figured he had one thing going for him. If Ash and his team hadn’t been interested, they would have already taken off. Technically, they had completed their assignment. Harvath and Decker had been returned to Bunia safe and sound. They had fulfilled the terms of their contract—and then some.

  Now, everything came down to what they wanted. And even more importantly, what they needed.

  Harvath understood the men all too well. There was a reason they had become contractors instead of fishing guides or boat builders—and it went beyond them being good at what they did. Harvath probably could up and go to Wall Street at any time and make a killing, but that wasn’t what he wanted, it wasn’t what he needed.

  He needed this. He needed the action. That was why he kept coming back. He was pretty good at it, and it still scared the hell out of him time and time again. But it was exhilarating. It was a rush he couldn’t get anywhere else. He craved it like a drug. And like a drug, he would put it before everything else, even a trip to see the leaves turn colors with someone he professed was very important to him.

  A common joke among operators was “don’t be that guy.” It meant don’t be the guy who does something stupid and screws up. But it was also a warning to never do anything you’d regret. Harvath knew that if he got out of the business, he would regret it. He also knew that there was nothing more lamentable than a former action guy who pined for his gun fighting days. Harvath never wanted to be “that guy.”

  And so, he had stayed hard, and he had stayed in. He risked being shot, stabbed, and blown to pieces, all because he loved giving Death the finger as he sped on by.

  Was it immature? Maybe. But the fact was that he was better when he was out here. At home he drank and recharged, ate and worked out, all the while looking forward to not knowing where the next assignment was going to take him. And all the while saying he wanted a family if he could just find the right person.

  But he had found the right people, repeatedly—incredible women who would have done anything for him—and yet it hadn’t worked out.

  It wasn’t about the women. It was obviously about him. He wanted his cake and to eat it too. It wasn’t impossible. Other people balanced dangerous, high-speed careers with family. Why not him?

  It was a question he hadn’t been able to answer. At least not until a naked Jessica Decker had tried to climb in the shower with him. That had crystalized it. He was loyal.

  Loyalty meant honoring the promises you made to other people—whether it was an oath of service or the rules of your relationship. But there was something more to it than that, especially when it came to relationships. It meant that you didn’t just think about yourself. You had to think about that other person. That’s what Decker had helped him realize. That was what his problem was.

  He was successful because he pushed everything right to the razor’s edge. He liked pushing it to that edge. The harder the mission, the more he enjoyed it. It came partly from who he was and how he was raised. His father had taught him to push and keep pushing. It was the SEAL in him. When Harvath became a SEAL himself, they took him to a completely new level.

  The only easy day was yesterday, Failure is not an option, and Never Quit were SEAL mottos that had become a part of him. They were so deeply burned into who he was that they impacted every decision he made.

  But how could he look at a woman and say, As much as I love you, my job will always come first? Didn’t that mean failure when it came to that relationship? Was it selfish? Was it immature? Unfair?

  But as frank and as honest as he thought he was being with himself, there was something else tapping at the back of his mind. This was not the time to be trying to get to the truth, but he was closer to it than he had ever felt before.

  Jesus, he thought, this job is like a drug. It fought like crazy to keep you hooked. It also provided great moments of euphoria, along with some amazing moments of clarity.

  Instead of slamming the iron door of his mind shut, as was his practice, he decided to leave it open and focus his mind elsewhere. Maybe the answer he was looking for would come, maybe it wouldn’t. As long as the job got done, that was what mattered for the moment.

  •••

  The remaining items Harvath needed were not small, but with the help of a stack of currency, Jambo and his relatives had taken care of them in the blink of an eye. Mick had gone along with them to do the assessment and had given it his approval. With the final pieces in place, they were ready for their operation to go dynamic.

  As Harvath powered up the jammer, Ash shook his head in disbelief.

  “Bloody amazing technology,” he said. “I never would have thought to use it like this.”

  “Any job’s ea
sy if you’ve got the correct tool, right?”

  “But you’re sawing boards with a hammer, mate. It’s brilliant.”

  Harvath smiled and turned his attention back to the jammer. He had been right about Ash and his team. If the money was right, they were happy to be on board, especially with the action factor so high. Harvath had provided more excitement in the last couple of days than they had seen in the last couple of years. It had been a long time since they had played cowboys and Indians.

  If the truth be told, they would have stuck with Harvath even if there was no money left to be made. What had happened at the clinic and to those villagers was horrific. It was an affront to their sense of honor. If they could help settle that score, they were one hundred percent on board and wouldn’t quit until every last person responsible had been brought to justice. It was about doing what was right. Like Harvath, they believed in standing up for those who couldn’t stand up for themselves.

  With the jammer ready to go, Harvath hailed Nicholas and got ready for their first test. He would operate it remotely from the United States. When the time came, Harvath would need to be on the street, not up in the apartment pressing buttons.

  “Okay,” he said. “Whenever you’re ready.”

  “Roger that,” Nicholas said over his earpiece. “Stand by.”

  Mick looked at the jammer and said, “It’s that accurate? You can focus on a single phone? It doesn’t simply shut down the entire block?”

  “Let’s watch,” Harvath replied.

  Several lights on the jammer changed colors as Nicholas manipulated its levels from back in the United States. There was a slight lag in what he could see from the camera feed, but not so much that it would make a difference.

  There was an art to this and Harvath had been very specific about what he wanted. If he drove the black phone straight into the dirt, Hendrik might become suspicious. It was better that everyone in the house experience some signal drop at first. It was Congo after all. Shit happened.

  The Brute Squad was the first to notice movement inside the house.

  “I’ve got someone at the window,” Eddie said over the radio. “Second floor, northwest corner. Looks like he has his phone in his hand and is trying to find a better signal.”

  “Make sure to keep taking pictures,” Harvath replied.

  “Roger that.”

  Cell phones had gone beyond being simple electronic devices. They had actually become part of people. Harvath was convinced that every time a person’s phone chimed, that a little blast of dopamine was released into the brain. It was like watching monkeys press on a bar for food. People were constantly looking at them, just in case a text or an email had come in. Take their phone away from them, even if only for a few moments, and they started to go into withdrawal.

  “We’ve got movement in the courtyard,” Ash said.

  Mick joined him at the window.

  “Oh, look at this guy,” he laughed. “He’s spinning around like he’s got one foot nailed to the ground. Raise the phone higher you twat! That’s it. Up over your head. Now jump up and down on your left leg and see if that helps your signal, you tosser.”

  Harvath smiled and asked in the room and over the radio, “Any sign of Hendrik yet?”

  “We’ve got activity at the door on the west side,” Eddie replied.

  “What do you see?”

  “Stand by. Nothing yet.”

  “Roger that,” Harvath replied. “Standing by.”

  They all watched their respective areas of responsibility. Harvath was glued to the remote rooftop cameras.

  “Okay, got him,” Eddie finally said. “It’s our guy. It’s Hendrik.”

  “You’re positive?”

  “Yes. It’s him.”

  With that confirmation, Harvath instructed Nicholas to slowly bring the signal strength back up to normal.

  “Cracking!” Mick exclaimed as he turned away from the window and flashed Harvath the thumbs-up. “Time to have fun?”

  Harvath nodded. “Roger that. Time to have fun.”

  CHAPTER 25

  * * *

  Asher knew his men better than Harvath, so once the plan was firmed up he decided who would take what role. With Jambo driving the van he had borrowed, Harvath and Asher would do the snatch. Mick would drive one of the Land Cruisers as a follow car, and Simon and Eddie would take sniper positions on two different rooftops. One of Jambo’s cousins would sit in LC2 with the engine running a block away, ready to pick up the Brute Squad once they had pulled back. If everything went well, the job would be over in fifteen minutes.

  They all knew, though, that if something could go wrong, it would go wrong, so they developed a set of contingencies and after checking their weapons and equipment, sanitized the apartments. They wouldn’t be coming back. Mick would take the jammer with him in LC1 and run it off a converter. It was designed to be mobile, and Nicholas could still control it remotely from back in the United States.

  Starting from several blocks over, they drove back and forth to the new safe house Jambo’s relatives had arranged. It was just outside of town and remote enough that no one would know they were there. They familiarized themselves with the roads—using a different route each time—until they felt they had everything as figured out as they could.

  The key was to pull this off as quietly as possible. Hendrik’s men were going to turn Bunia upside down to find their boss. And if they had any pull whatsoever with MONUSCO, there would be thousands of soldiers helping them beat the bushes. Everything would come down to timing and staying as far beneath the radar as possible.

  With one last radio check, Harvath and Ash climbed into the van, slid the door shut, and instructed Jambo to move out.

  As they drove toward their target, Harvath kept in touch with Nicholas and Mick, while Ash fed him situation reports from Simon and Eddie who were watching the “white house” from their rooftop perches.

  Once they arrived on their mark and had the van where they wanted it, Harvath stepped out and said to Nicholas, “Start throttling him down. Slowly.”

  “Roger,” Nicholas replied.

  Looking at Ash, he said, “Ready?”

  The Brit nodded and he and Harvath took their places around the corner. Regardless of which door Hendrik exited, Nicholas could play Hot or Cold by increasing or decreasing the cell signal based on which direction the man moved. As long as he continued on the path they wanted, his signal would continue to get warmer. They didn’t need him to go far. When he turned the corner, Harvath and Ash would throw a bag over his head toss him in the van and speed away.

  “I’ve got movement,” Eddie said over the radio. “West door, same as before.”

  “Can you ID who it is?” Harvath asked.

  “Negative. Stand by.”

  Everyone held their breath. They tensed, coiled like springs ready to jump. Seconds passed.

  “Got him,” Eddie finally said. “It’s definitely Hendrik.”

  “Roger that,” replied Harvath. “Lead him to us.”

  “Will do,” said Eddie as he then communicated over his cell phone with Nicholas, so he could manipulate the jammer accordingly.

  Everything was going smoothly. Hendrik was nearing the corner when Simon’s voice came over the radio.

  “You’ve got company,” he said. “A woman and two children just stepped out of a building half a block down. Headed in your direction.”

  Jambo, who was monitoring the radio from inside the van, didn’t need to be told what to do. Harvath had placed his relatives at different positions nearby, and Jambo was already on his cell phone relaying instructions.

  Moments later, Simon said, “You’re all clear.”

  Harvath hoped that would be the extent of any interference.

  Eddie began a countdown of how many feet Hendrik was from turning the
corner. “Four feet out,” he radioed. “Three feet now. Two,” but then he suddenly stopped.

  Once again, everyone held their breath.

  “He’s holding one of the phones up.”

  Come on, Harvath said to himself. You’re almost there. Just a couple more feet.

  Back in the United States, Nicholas boosted the signal and then dropped it. It was the push Hendrik needed, and he stepped around the corner. As he did, Harvath and Asher were waiting.

  Ash landed the first blow. It was a punch to the gut that caused Hendrik to double over. Harvath brought his fist down between the man’s shoulder blades, knocking the wind from his lungs and sending him the rest of the way to the ground.

  As Ash placed the bag over his head, Harvath zip-tied his hands behind his back. By the time he looked up to see where the van was, Jambo had already pulled up and had the sliding door open.

  Harvath and Ash picked Hendrik up by his arms and chucked him inside. Ash climbed in after him as Harvath picked up the two cell phones. Jambo was already pulling away as Harvath jumped in and slid the door closed.

  He patted Hendrik down for weapons as Ash zip-tied his ankles. He found a Browning Hi-Power with two spare magazines as well as a folding knife in his pocket and a fixed blade in his boot. He carried cash as well as a blue United Nations Laissez-Passer also known as an UNLP. It acted like a travel document and was only supposed to be used for official United Nations travel.

  Popping the covers off both of the phones, Harvath removed their batteries and put all of the pieces in his pocket. Hendrik was gasping, trying to get the air back into his lungs.

  Neither Harvath nor Ash spoke. As he was a Special Forces operator, they were aware of the kind of SERE training Hendrik would have had. SERE stood for Survival, Evasion, Resistance, and Escape. Once his breath had fully returned, he was going to try to sort out what was going on. His mind would be calculating the odds of all different kinds of situations. Whatever situation he was most afraid of would weigh on him the heaviest. That’s what Harvath wanted him focused on. The more unsettled and stressed out he was, the better. A man with Hendrik’s background wasn’t going to be easy to break.