Full Black sh-10

by Brad Thor

  Ashford didn’t respond. His head was killing him. It felt as if someone had split it wide open with an axe. “I don’t know what you want from me.”

  Carlton opened his folder. “Why don’t you start by telling me about the hit on Larry Salomon.”

  “Who?”

  The Old Man shook his head, closed his file, stood up, and began walking away.

  Ashford looked at him. “Where are you going?”

  “I’m sorry it had to end like this, Robert.”

  “I told you, I don’t know any Larry Salomon. You can’t do this. You can’t just kill me. You won’t kill me.”

  Carlton walked back to his chair, set his file folder down, and sprang at the MI5 man. Grabbing a fistful of hair, he torqued the man’s head back. “Thousands of Americans are dead and you think I’m going to play games with you?”

  “I’m not involved with the terrorist attacks! Why are you doing this, Reed? I don’t know what you’re talking about. Who put you up to this?”

  The Old Man bent the Brit’s head back even farther. “I know the routine, Robert. Deny, deny, deny, and then launch counteraccusations. It isn’t going to work. I’ve offered you an incredible deal, you son of a bitch. It’s better than you deserve. Don’t be an idiot. Take it.”

  “But you don’t have a thing on me. I don’t know why you’re doing this.”

  Carlton looked at Harvath and said, “Go get him.”

  “Go get who?” asked Ashford as Harvath left the room.

  “Shut up.”

  “Reed, you and I are friends.”

  The Old Man wasn’t listening to him. “What changed you, Robert? Was it money? Is that what this is all about?”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Show a little character, Robert. Show some dignity. I have offered to let you disappear into retirement. Take the offer.”

  “But I haven’t done anything,” the MI5 man insisted. “I don’t know any Larry Salomon. I’m not involved in these horrible terrorist attacks. All I know is that if you had one shred of proof, you’d produce it.”

  As the man finished his sentence, Harvath wheeled Yaroslav Yatsko into the room in a wheelchair.

  “Hello, Robert,” the Russian said.

  CHAPTER 67

  “You think MI5 would take his word, a former KGB operative’s, against mine? The word of a man who admits he’s in the murder-for-hire business? You’re crazier than he is!”

  Carlton opened the file and showed Ashford what he had. “You two go way back. He kept very meticulous records.”

  “If I did communicate with trash like this,” said the Brit, “do you honestly think I’d be stupid enough to do it with an email address that traced back to me?”

  “We also have the banking information for the payments made to Mr. Yatsko.”

  “Again, how stupid do you think I am?”

  “And then there’s Yemen,” said the Old Man.

  Suddenly, Ashford’s mask slipped. A flash of panic rippled across his face, but was quickly suppressed.

  “That’s right, asshole. We’ve got you dead to rights in Yemen,” said Harvath.

  Carlton closed the file and looked at the MI5 operative. “There’s no way out, Robert. There’s also no more time left on the clock. We know everything. The only reason we’re having this conversation is that I wanted to give you a way out. I’m closing the window, though. Either you accept my offer, or I have a van waiting downstairs with a team that will take you out to the country, put a bullet in your head, and plant you in a very cold and lonely piece of ground.”

  Harvath had already taken Yatsko back to his room and returned. He was now watching Ashford to see what he would do. They didn’t have him dead to rights on Yemen. That had been a bluff. Harvath had been adamant that Ashford believe that the case against him was overwhelming. He lived for his career, and he needed to believe that it was over. They needed to psychologically strip him naked and convince him that the only way out was through the Old Man.

  “And you give me your word that you’ll relocate me? A new identity? A new life? All of it?” said Ashford.

  “The economy being what it is, you may end up recycling boxes at a Wal-Mart, but I give you my word,” said the Old Man, who gestured for Harvath to give him some water.

  Harvath did as he was instructed.

  “I want the person pulling your strings,” replied Carlton, as he motioned for Harvath to bring him the vial of pills from the table.

  Ashford was quiet for several moments. Finally, he said, “I won’t testify. It’d be a death sentence. I’d never live to see any trial.”

  “You let us worry about the trial.”

  “I want money, too. If you want my help, it’s going to cost.”

  “I think we should just kill him,” said Harvath.

  Carlton waved him off. “I’m not changing the terms of my offer, Robert. It is a take-it-or-leave-it deal. You’re either going into the brand-new Reed Carlton witness protection program, or you’re going into a cornfield in rural New England. It’s your call.”

  Once again, the MI5 operative took several moments before responding. When he did speak, he said, “Give me two of my pain pills. Actually, make it three and I’ll tell you anything you want to know.”

  “I’ll consider giving you one,” said the Old Man, nodding to Harvath that it was okay to prep one, “when you start filling us in on what we want to know.”

  Ashford looked at the two men. The tears were flowing again. He had given up. He was broken. They had him. “Where do you want me to begin?” he asked.

  Harvath stepped in, opened the bottle, and shook out one of the pills. Ashford opened his mouth. Harvath placed the pill on his tongue and then gave him some more water to wash it down.

  “Let’s start with who you’re working for.”

  “You already know who it is,” said Ashford.

  “I want to hear you say it.”

  “James Standing.”

  “The terror attacks in Europe and Chicago that you helped us work on, who was behind those?”

  “James Standing.”

  “And the attacks on movie theaters across the United States that just happened?”

  “James Standing.”

  “The airport attacks?”

  “Standing,” Ashford repeated yet again.

  “Tell me about the terror network itself,” said Carlton.

  The MI5 man looked at him. “It was built by the Chinese as part of an asymmetric warfare plan called unrestricted warfare. Standing financed and helped arrange for the stealing of the plan from the Chinese military. He then had every person who had been involved in crafting the plan killed.”

  “How many terror cells are in the United States?”

  The Brit had to think for a moment, but then replied, “Hundreds. Easily, hundreds. Your entire country is infested.”

  “How do you communicate with the cells?”

  “I want a guarantee in writing that I am honestly going to get immunity from prosecution.”

  Harvath leaned forward. “How about instead we dump you outside the Russian Center of Special Operations with a sign around your neck saying you helped get three Spetsnaz soldiers killed?”

  Carlton motioned for Harvath to back off. “We’re not negotiating anymore, Robert. I gave you my word. Now tell me how you communicate with the cells.”

  “There is a hierarchy of commanders,” Ashford finally stated. “When Aazim Aleem was killed-”

  “By you,” Harvath clarified.

  “Yes. By me. After I killed Aazim, a man named Mustafa Karami was promoted. I then relayed commands to him, or Standing did. He then contacted the appropriate cells through emails, chat rooms, coded telephone conversations, and the like. Despite having been set up as a tool of the Chinese, for all intents and purposes it is a fully functioning Islamic terror network.”

  “Why was Aazim killed?” asked Carlton.

  “Isn’t it obv
ious? We couldn’t have the CIA interrogating him. That would have been the end of all of it.”

  “And what was your end game in all of this? What was your goal? Yours and Standing’s? Certainly, this isn’t just about terror for terror’s sake.”

  Ashford grinned sadly. “It was about making the world a better place.”

  “By murdering people? Innocent men, women, and children?” demanded Harvath.

  “All in pursuit of a greater good.”

  “In other words, the ends justify the means?”

  Ashford nodded and Harvath wanted to beat the Brit to a pulp, all in pursuit of a greater good, but the Old Man could see he was getting worked up and signaled again for him to stand down.

  “How were these attacks supposed to make the world a better place?” Carlton asked.

  “The only hope for the world is the collapse of the narrowly focused nation-state model. The planet is too interconnected, society too complex to be ruled by mob mentalities that only care about what’s good for them and don’t give a damn about anyone else.”

  “So the attacks were meant to collapse the concept of the nation- state?”

  “They are meant to collapse the United States. Once the U.S. is out of the way, the rest of the world can be led-”

  “Into complete and utter darkness,” interjected Harvath. “Without America, there’s no peace. Without peace, there’s no prosperity.”

  The Brit shook his head slowly. “Without America, there is justice.”

  Carlton studied his former friend. “How did you go from fighting communists to becoming one?”

  “I opened my eyes, Reed. I saw the incredible suffering in the world. Then I opened my mind and went looking for answers.”

  “You have no idea,” said Harvath, “what the world would be like without America.”

  “We’ll see soon enough.”

  “Really? And who’ll govern this new world order? Some elite ruling class of intellectuals? Americans will never stand for the overthrow of their government.”

  Ashford smiled again. “Of course they will. It’s already happening.”

  “Trust me, your attacks will only bring the American people closer together.”

  “I’m not talking about the terrorist attacks. Those are simply part of the final phase. The overthrow of America has been going on for decades. If someone tried to collapse the United States overnight, of course the American people would revolt. That’s why it had to be done slowly, quietly. It has been aided from both the outside and the inside. All of the massive problems besetting your nation, all of the economic, political, and social turmoil, hasn’t suddenly picked up speed by accident. It’s all by design and it all has a singular, overriding purpose.”

  The man was insane. “And just so I don’t miss this glorious new dawn of global governance when it happens, what should I be on the lookout for?” asked Harvath. “Blue-helmeted United Nations soldiers marching up Main Street, U.S.A.? Or will it be more subtle than that?”

  “You don’t have to look for anything,” replied Ashford. “It’s already here. It’s all around you. You’ve been looking right at it for years without knowing. You still have your name. You still have your flag. You still believe you have your freedoms, though in reality they have been slowly siphoned away. You still believe you have a Republic when, day-by-day, what you are being left with is merely the illusion of a Republic. Your entire house, as it were, has been rebuilt one brick at a time and no one has even noticed. No one has done a single thing about it.”

  “How do we stop it?” asked Carlton.

  “I don’t think you can,” replied Ashford.

  “Standing wants to push the nation over the edge. He has some vision in mind of how to push us past the point of no return. How does he do that? How many more attacks are coming?”

  “At this point, I only know of two that have definitely been activated, but there’s literally thousands of options he can choose from. The unrestricted warfare plan is as deep as it is broad.”

  “What are the two?” said Carlton, eager to ascertain whether Ashford was telling them the truth.

  “All of the attacks are color-coded. The next two attacks are orange and yellow. Orange will be attacks on the corporate headquarters of the companies listed on the Dow Industrial Average. Some of the companies are in regular office buildings, others are on campuses. Provisions have been made to collapse some buildings entirely and in other cases to have explosives detonate in the offices, boardrooms, and executive dining rooms of senior management.”

  So far, it appeared to Carlton that Ashford was telling the truth. “And when are those attacks supposed to happen?”

  “Today.”

  “What are the yellow attacks?” Harvath asked.

  “The yellow attacks are a follow-on. They target the major news outlets, the idea being that if they can be taken out, national news will essentially cease to exist. Local news will continue, but there won’t be anyone to truly connect and expose the dots on a national level.”

  “That’s it?”

  Ashford shook his head. “Not exactly. Standing is worried that the network has been compromised. He rushed the Dow attack forward because he wanted to create financial chaos. He wanted to really hit people where they’d feel it in order to add to their panic.

  “If he can, I think he’ll activate one additional attack. He’s particularly enamored of a final attack on the nation’s infrastructure.”

  “What part?”

  “Standing has always been interested in taking down the Internet and as much of the power grid as possible. He wants everything to grind to a halt and to plunge the country into literal darkness. It’s kind of the coup de grace for him.”

  “When? How soon?”

  “When we discussed it, he said the best timing would be before all of the crops could be harvested. With no fuel being delivered to power tractors or trucks, food would rot in the field and never make it to market. Millions would starve and millions more would freeze to death over the winter.”

  Harvath looked at Carlton and gestured toward the hallway. They left Ashford strapped to the chair and stepped out of the room, closing the door behind them.

  “We’re going to need a complete map of that terror network. Names, pictures, telephone numbers, addresses, means of contact, all of it,” said Harvath. “Then somebody’s going to have to figure out how to take down all of the cell members, all at the same time, all across the country, without any word leaking out.”

  “That’s going to mean an extremely well-coordinated law enforcement effort,” replied Carlton.

  Harvath nodded. “We also need to get our hands on that unrestricted warfare plan. If Ashford has a copy, and we should assume he does, we need to get it ASAP. The more we know about what’s in that playbook, the better defense and offense we can mount.”

  “Which brings us to James Standing.”

  Harvath took a moment as he tried to be certain he had put all of the pieces together correctly. “If Ashford and Standing control the network and we have Ashford, then the only one left calling the shots is Standing.”

  “Correct.”

  “At some point, though, when he’s unable to make contact with Ashford, he’s going to know that something is up. In fact, when the Dow attacks don’t happen, he’ll know he’s been penetrated.”

  “And could go for broke and activate all the remaining attacks.”

  “Which is why we need to get to the network’s current commander, this Karami guy, as well as Standing, right away,” said Harvath. “If we can do that, we might be able to short-circuit the network and render it inert until all its members can be rounded up.”

  “There’s just one thing,” said Carlton. “Taking out some foreign terrorist like Karami is one thing. Dealing with a politically connected billionaire American philanthropist like James Standing is something totally different.”

  “I agree,” replied Harvath. “And I know exactly how we shou
ld handle it.”

  CHAPTER 68

  MANHATTAN

  Robert Ashford had provided Harvath with the rough layout of James Standing’s New York City apartment. He had also provided an accurate picture of the billionaire’s personal security detail.

  For the overnight shift, only four men were kept on duty. One was positioned in the lobby with the doorman, while another was at the receiving entrance. A third man remained in the apartment in a small security room located off the kitchen, monitoring the building’s closed-circuit camera feed. The fourth agent operated as a “floater,” moving from position to position, relieving the other men when it was time for their respective breaks and filling in as an impromptu driver when needed.

  Harvath had gained access to the building via the roof of an adjacent structure. He made his way down the interior security stairs to the back door of Standing’s apartment, underneath which he slid a fiber-optic surveillance camera. Cupping the scope to his eye, he slowly scanned the interior of the kitchen.

  Because of the angle, he couldn’t see into the security room, but he had little doubt that the agent watching the CCTV feeds was there. Retracting the camera, Harvath put it back in his pack and removed a short aluminum cylinder wrapped in clear tubing, as well as a full-face respirator.

  Placing the respirator over his head, he made sure the seal around his face was tight and then unwound the tubing from the cylinder and fed it beneath the door.

  There was a barely perceptible hiss as he opened the valve and began to pump the contents of the cylinder into the kitchen.

  Three-Methylfentanyl, or 3-MF as it was known, was an opioid analgesic that ranged anywhere from four hundred to six thousand times more powerful than morphine, depending upon what type of isomer it was combined with. Harvath was using a cis isomer, which pushed the gas being emitted from the tube beneath the kitchen door to its most effective range.

  It was the same substance used by the Russians in the Moscow theater hostage crisis in 2002 and was extremely tricky to work with. Minimum exposure could knock a person out for hours. Anything more than minimum exposure and the chances of overdose and death rose exponentially. The common temptation to believe that if a little bit was good then a lot was better had to be avoided at all costs. The Russians had overadministered the substance in Moscow and had ended up killing not only the hostage-takers, but the hostages as well.