by Brad Thor
Though not a religious man, Damien knew these people were meant to inherit the earth. It was why he had selected them.
It was a spectacular night. No one was feeling any pain, and no one wanted it to end. Breaking with their locally sourced tradition, Damien dispatched Jeffery to retrieve one of his best sauternes. It was a bottle of liquid gold, a 1934 Château d’Yquem. And he had been saving it for just this very night.
Its copper and orange hues reminded him of the magic bird the next phase of his operation celebrated. The seven-thousand-dollar dessert wine boasted rich crème brûlée, orange, caramel, flowers, spice, and butterscotch flavors, along with earthy whorls of cocoa, chocolate, and coffee.
It was delicious and the absolute best way imaginable to celebrate the rebirth of the world.
Of course, it was exquisitely painful not to be able to share any of this with Helena and be able to show her off. She wasn’t a member of the society, though, and thereby wasn’t allowed to attend the dinner. Instead, Damien had ordered in her favorite, Italian, and had set her up in the guesthouse. He would join her once his other guests had left.
He had Jeffery bring out a second bottle of Château d’Yquem. This one was a delicious yet much less expensive ’66. Some partook, some did not.
Twenty minutes later, society members began to thank him and melt away into the night.
Once they were gone, the woman next to him reached out and put her hand on his arm.
“What a glorious evening, Pierre,” she said.
Damien smiled in response. Linda Landon had been working for the Federal Government for over forty years and had seen it all. She was his lynchpin in everything that was about to happen.
Reaching into her shoulder bag, she pulled out a small box. “I brought you something.”
“Linda, you shouldn’t have gotten me a gift.”
“No, no,” she stated, looking down and shaking her head, “it’s just a small token.”
Damien lifted the lid. Inside was a pair of silver cuff links.
“Gordian Knots,” she explained. “I thought you would appreciate them.”
He did indeed. It was one of his favorite ancient myths. The knot was meant to symbolize an impossible problem solved with bold, outside-the-box thinking.
In the story, a man named Gordius celebrates becoming king by dedicating his chariot to Zeus and tying it to a pole with an impossible to unravel Gordian knot. An oracle predicts that a man will come and untie it, and that man will go on to become king of all Asia. Like the legend of the sword in the stone, many tried and failed to untie the knot. Then Alexander the Great visited the city.
He searched and searched for the loose ends of the knot so he could set to work. When he couldn’t find them, he pulled out his sword and sliced right through it. Alexander then went on to conquer Asia.
“They are very handsome,” he said. “Thank you.”
“I’m glad you like them,” Landon replied. “Now, I think you and I should talk about the—”
Damien held his finger up, suggesting she pause, as Jeffery entered the dining room to see if there was anything else they needed.
“Perhaps another coffee?” she said.
“Make it two,” Damien stated. “We will take them in the library.”
Jeffery nodded and walked back to the kitchen.
Damien stood and motioned his guest into the large main hall. It was hung with magnificent oil paintings in thick, gilded frames. They depicted bucolic scenes of hunting, fishing, and farm life. Landon could only imagine how much they had cost.
Beyond the grand staircase was an elegant paneled door. Damien paused just long enough to turn the handle and then step back so his guest could enter.
Landon barely made it two steps inside before coming to an abrupt stop. Curled up on a couch in front of the fireplace, reading, was an attractive young woman in jeans and a rather tight sweater.
“Helena,” Damien said, taken off guard. “What are you doing here?”
“I came to find a book,” she replied, laying aside the leather-bound copy of Edward Pollard’s The Lost Cause and standing.
She walked over and extended her hand to Damien’s guest. “My name is Helena. Helena Pestova.”
“Pleased to meet you,” the older woman replied coldly. “I’m Linda.”
Helena waited, but the woman didn’t give her last name.
Damien had not intended for the two to meet. In fact, he had not intended for Helena to meet any of the society members. The dinner was a boring philanthropic obligation, he had explained. No spouses. No significant others.
Helena had appeared to take it in stride, but entering the main house and establishing herself in the library communicated another message. She wanted his attention, and she would get it soon enough, plenty of it, but he needed to finish his business with Landon first.
“We have some business items to finish up,” he said to her. “I’ll find you afterward. Okay?”
“Okay,” Helena replied as she picked up her book and cell phone, then walked over and kissed him on the cheek.
At the library door, she turned to the other woman and said, “It was nice meeting you.”
Landon shot her a bitchy smile. “You too, dear.”
As Helena exited, Jeffery entered with a tray and set up the coffee service on a small table near the fireplace.
Landon took a seat on the couch, removed her computer from her shoulder bag, and powered it up. Damien sat down at his antique desk.
“Will you be needing anything else?” Jeffery asked.
Damien looked everything over and replied, “I think we’re fine. Thank you, Jeffery.”
Clearing away the tray, Jeffery opened the door and stepped out into the hallway.
As he did, Damien noticed that Helena had left her cell phone charger behind. She always seemed to be forgetting it. She would forget her gorgeous head if it wasn’t attached. She was always leaving that stupid charger somewhere.
He thought about having Jeffery unplug it and take it to her, but decided against it. The less that was said about her in front of Landon, the better.
Though married, Landon carried a torch for Damien. He knew it and had thoroughly manipulated it. Her loyalty to him was beyond question. It was also about to be put to the ultimate test.
Removing his laptop, he set it upon his desk and depressed the power button. Next to it, he placed the encrypted cell phone he had programmed for her.
With a smile, he said, “Let’s get to work.”
CHAPTER 28
* * *
RESTON, VIRGINIA
TUESDAY
Harvath had made the call to scrap the Bunia airport altogether. It was too dangerous. They were better off taking their chances on the road south to Goma.
The Hotel Ihusi on Lake Kivu near the Rwanda border crossing was the perfect place for them to hole up while they waited for their jet to arrive. It was filled with mercenaries, smugglers, hookers, NGO workers, and all sorts of other characters. It reminded Harvath of the cantina scene in Star Wars. The best part was that everyone minded their own business. If you didn’t want to be social, no one bothered you.
It had taken Harvath all the cash he had left to organize their departure. But complicating matters was the fact that Decker had flat-out refused to cooperate.
She not only wouldn’t help with Harvath’s plan, but she also wanted to return to the Matumaini Clinic and begin to rebuild it. That, though, was absolutely out of the question. It was too dangerous. In addition to it being a crime scene, there was no telling if Hendrik’s men, or the FRPI rebels for that matter, might show up there.
In only a handful of days, Harvath had blazed a trail the width of a twenty-lane highway through that part of Congo. It had pissed off a lot of people. The fallout was going to be intense.
&nb
sp; Leaving the country as soon as possible was the right thing to do. He had tried to convince Decker of it too, but she wouldn’t listen. Finally, he had to get Beaman on the sat phone to straighten her out.
Beaman made it perfectly clear that the Matumaini Clinic was off-limits. He suggested she come back to the United States until things cooled down. She refused and informed him that she intended to return to Kinshasa even though the CARE clinic there was still on hold. There was nothing Beaman could do to persuade her, and he told Harvath to let her go.
Harvath had no trouble letting her go, but he had no intention of doing it in Bunia. She could catch a plane to Kinshasa from Goma. It would be safer there.
Needless to say, Decker dug her heels in. She wanted to know where Harvath had been and why he had left her at the hotel for two days with Leonce and his son. He didn’t owe her an explanation, but he gave her one anyway.
He told her that they had gotten a lead on who had been behind the attack on the clinic, as well as the village. When he refused to give her any further details, she went supernova on him. It was blistering, and much of it was uncalled for. He let her get it out of her system and then told her to pack her bag. He told her they were taking her to the airport. Technically, that was true. He just didn’t tell her which one.
Once she had finished her next temper tantrum over not being taken to the airport in Bunia and had calmed down, he filled her in a little bit more on what had gone down.
He had a private MediJet flying in to Goma. Without telling her everything about Hendrik, he explained that he planned to smuggle him out of the country as an acute medical patient. To do that, he would need Decker’s help as a doctor. She not only said no, she said hell no and lectured him about ethics.
Harvath had had just about as much as he could take from her. His bandwidth for her ideological bullshit was full.
When they arrived at the hotel, he helped carry her bag up to her room, and then zip-tied her in the bathroom. As soon as he had left the country, she would be released, taken to the airport, and put on a plane. Until then, Simon and Eddie would take shifts keeping an eye on her. The last thing he needed was her screwing up his departure.
With the rest of Harvath’s money, Jambo scoured Goma to purchase the people and paperwork Harvath needed. Everything else would have to be “borrowed.” Without even being asked, Ash and Mick volunteered.
As the men worked on their lists, Harvath unpacked Decker’s gear. Over the phone, one of the Carlton Group’s medical assets stepped him through preparation of the drugs he was going to give Hendrik.
Harvath had mixed feelings about leaving. With everything he had learned, he needed to get back to the United States. There were still several accounts, though, that needed to be settled in Congo.
While he wanted Hendrik’s men placed on the front burner for the atrocities they had committed, the WHO lab in Ngoa was the U.S. Government’s main focus.
Reed Carlton had conducted a very private briefing with the President, as well as the Director of the CIA. Based on Harvath’s reporting, it was decided that a highly specialized, covert team from the U.S. Army’s Medical Research Institute of Infectious Diseases at Fort Detrick, Maryland, would be sent in to investigate.
Known as a Scientific Tactical Assessment Response team, or STAR team for short, it was a hybrid of Special Operations and scientific personnel. Whatever threats they encountered, be they chemical, biological, or anthropological—i.e. human—the team members were equipped and trained to face them. If there was intelligence to be had at Ngoa, they would secure it, and bring it back to the United States.
Harvath’s job was to get Hendrik out of Congo and deliver him to an interrogation team on the island of Malta. This was where Dr. Jessica Decker had refused to lend any assistance whatsoever.
Normally, Harvath wouldn’t have cared, but Hendrik was of high intelligence value. If he coded during the flight, it would be left to Harvath to save him. The plane wasn’t going to land anywhere else but Malta. If it did, and Hendrik came to and began talking, Harvath and the pilots would be thrown in the nearest prison.
The Carlton Group moved a lot of detainees via medical transport jets. The owner of Sentinel Medevac was a patriot who had been very generous to Harvath and the Old Man. There was no way they were going to allow two of his pilots to be incarcerated and one of his very expensive long-haul jets impounded. It was Malta or bust, which was why Harvath had spent so much time on the phone getting the dosing right.
Hendrik was going to be heavily sedated. So much so, he wouldn’t talk, moan, or even move. Jambo’s assignment was to take care of greasing the skids at the airport and buying the appropriate health ministry paperwork. Ash and Mick were in charge of sets and props. It all would come down to mounting an absolutely convincing show.
When his cell phone chimed, Harvath left Hendrik with one of the Brute Squad and walked down to the parking lot. He found Mick standing in front of the team’s Land Cruisers with a smile.
United Nations vehicles were white with simple black lettering for a reason. It made them easy to spot and instantly recognizable. It also made them easy to counterfeit.
Both vehicles were already white, so all that they had needed was for the letters U and N to be stenciled in the right places. Mick, though, had gone a step further and had even matched the correct high-gloss black paint. Leave it to a team of Special Operations guys not only to get the job done but to get it done to precise detail.
Ash was standing behind LC2 and waved Harvath over. Because the vehicle was set up to carry cargo, it made the perfect makeshift ambulance. In fact, it was quite common in Congo to see them used that way.
Inside were all the things Harvath had asked for, plus a couple he hadn’t. Resourceful didn’t even come close to describing the two SAS men.
The health ministry documents Jambo acquired were the icing on the cake. Based on everything they had pulled together, Harvath had little doubt they were going to be able to smuggle Hendrik out without incident.
This was still Congo, though, and Harvath wouldn’t rest completely assured of anything until the entire country was in his rearview mirror.
Back in his room, he thought about giving Decker a final opportunity to leave with him, but decided against it. She had made her decision. He couldn’t risk her tanking this leg of the operation out of spite or misguided moralization. They would do fine without her. Harvath would monitor Hendrik’s vitals throughout the flight and have a doctor on standby via sat phone. If anything happened, Harvath would handle it. Hendrik was going to Malta. End of story.
•••
When the pilot contacted Harvath to let him know he was on the ground, the clock began ticking. The first thing they had to do was drug Hendrik.
The bound-and-gagged South African spun on the floor like a crocodile when he saw the syringe come out. It took Ash, Mick, and Jambo to hold him down so Harvath could inject him. Moments later, his eyes rolled up into his head, and he was out.
The men moved quickly. They changed Hendrik into a hospital gown, placed him on a stretcher, and Harvath started an IV.
When the second text came in from the pilot confirming that he had completed refueling and preflight, Harvath told the team it was time to roll.
They waited until things were clear at the side of the hotel and carried Hendrik out that way. After transferring him to the isolation stretcher in the back of LC2, they secured his arms and legs with zip-ties, and then disguised everything with hospital blankets. Harvath checked his vitals once more before closing the seams of the translucent tent.
Once Hendrik was ready for transport, the team donned goggles, facemasks, and disposable Tyvek coveralls. As it was just for show, they only put on one layer of gloves, but they taped them up just the same. Anyone who saw them now wouldn’t want anything to do with them, much less get anywhere near them. Fear was the
biggest thing Harvath was counting on.
Even by third world standards, Goma International Airport was a pit. It still hadn’t fully recovered from the eruption of Mount Nyiragongo over a decade before. A lake of solidified lava two hundred meters wide by a thousand meters long had swallowed up a third of its main runway and cut off access to the terminal. All of the “temporary” work-arounds that airport authorities had come up with back then were still in place. This actually played right into Harvath’s plan.
Nobody at Goma International wanted a contagious patient with a highly communicable disease passing through the commercial aviation area. Nor did they want them passing through the adjacent area that all of the military and relief flights used. The airport authority wanted the patient completely isolated and so Jambo had arranged for the team to be admitted via a gate at the far side of the airport.
When they rolled up in their UN-marked vehicles, Jambo—in full mask, goggles, and bunny suit—lowered his window and offered his paperwork and Hendrik’s blue, UN Laissez-Passer passport for inspection.
The armed soldiers looked at him like he was crazy. They were all too familiar with disease in Congo. They weren’t going to exit the safety of their booth and inspect anything. In fact, they immediately shut their own window, opened the security gates, and quickly waved the convoy through.
The jet’s airstairs were already down as the Land Cruisers pulled up alongside. As instructed, the pilots remained in the cockpit and did not exit.
Knowing that they were under observation, Harvath waited until they had loaded Hendrik inside the aircraft to say thank you. He shook each man’s hand and told them how much he appreciated what they had done.
While he would have loved to have bought them all beers and steak dinners to celebrate the completion of the assignment, his work wasn’t done. They were professionals. They understood.
As they filed down the stairs, Asher was the last to leave the plane. He stopped in the aircraft’s door and turned to Harvath.