What if they were going back to a vehicle-bomb model as had been used in Rome? What if there was more than one? What if they all converged in Piccadilly at the same moment and detonated en masse? Buildings would be leveled, and the carnage would be off the charts. The only scenario Harvath feared more than that was actually being there when it happened.

Bob Ashford had been right to bring his people on board. There were too many what-ifs here and it was far too large an operation for Harvath and Casey to get their arms around by themselves.

When the rest of the Athena operatives had gathered at the house, they designated the dining room as a makeshift ops center. Sitting around the table, each team reported their findings and delivered an assessment.

Everyone was in agreement that screening and managing traffic in and out of Piccadilly Circus was far outside their ability. That task was going to have to fall to the Brits. But if the bombers came in on foot, as they had in Paris, then that would be a different story.

The largest gathering place for tourists was around the Shaftesbury fountain. That’s where most people stood to take in the neon signs and it was also where the Tube stop was. This was where bombers leaving backpack bombs or detonating suicide vests would get the biggest bang for their buck.

It was also the most obvious, and that’s what bothered Harvath. While it made the most sense to strike near the fountain, the terrorists weren’t stupid. With the Paris bombing, security had already been stepped up at tourist sites across Europe, and London was no different. He and Casey had seen plenty of uniformed officers as they did their reconnaissance of Piccadilly and they had noted several plainclothes officers as well.

And they weren’t limited solely to Piccadilly Circus either. They had picked up concentric rings of security the moment they had left the restaurant and had begun walking down Regent Street. The closer they got to Piccadilly, the more intense the police presence became. The terrorists would be doing dry runs as well and would have to know this.

So what were they planning? How did they intend to subvert the police and get close enough to strike? Harvath had reached out to Reed Carlton twice, hoping for news that Adda Sterk had revealed more information about the bombings to the interrogation team, without any luck. He’d inquired as to whether or not the Dutch authorities had had any success on the Amsterdam attack and whether or not the interrogators had come up with more information on who had hired Sterk, but so far everything seemed to be a bust.

With cameras everywhere, they knew the Brits would be scanning every face coming and going from Piccadilly. They also knew, though, that the cameras wouldn’t prevent a determined terrorist attack. Whereas pickpockets and purse snatchers might be concerned with the police hunting them down after they had committed their crime, martyrs didn’t really have that problem.

If the bomb or bombs were going to be vehicle-borne, Rhodes brought up a very good point. According to Sterk, the London and Amsterdam attacks were supposed to be simultaneous. That meant that a vehicle, or vehicles, would have to arrive at Piccadilly at a precise time. This would mean that the terrorists would have to commit drivers. They couldn’t simply plant a bomb as they had done in Rome and hope that the vehicle they had planted it in arrived at Piccadilly on time and didn’t get held up or change course.

It was an excellent point. Harvath made a note to bring it up with Ashford. They needed to make sure that any regularly scheduled traffic that passed through Piccadilly, such as public buses or guided tours with set routes and pickup/drop-off times, were monitored.

If the terrorists did try to drive in, then hopefully, London police would be able to identify and neutralize them before they reached Piccadilly, and before they could detonate their explosives.

Harvath didn’t like having to hope for successful outcomes. He liked to tilt the playing field so far to his advantage that his opponent didn’t have a chance. This was a different game entirely.

He was still very concerned with how little they had to go on. The odds were much more in favor of the terrorists. Maybe keeping the alert level low was a mistake. Maybe people did have a right to know.

With his cognitive abilities nearing zero and his head still filled with doubts, Harvath walked upstairs to grab a few hours of sleep before Ashford came to pick him up.

He thought about calling Reed again but realized the Old Man would call him when he had something to report.

Climbing into bed, Harvath forced his mind to relax and he fell into a deep, dreamless, black sleep.

Three hours later, a buzzing near his ear dragged him back. He was more tired than when he had first turned in and it felt like he had been asleep for only a few minutes. He brushed at his ear and reached for his watch to see what time it was. That’s when he saw the light on his phone blinking as it vibrated on the nightstand.

Picking it up, he flipped it open. “Yeah?”

“It’s Ashford. Scotland Yard just got a tip. They’re moving on the target within the hour.”

Harvath swung his feet out of bed and sat up. “What target? What tip?”

“A car will be there in ten minutes. I’ll explain when you get here.”

With that, the MI5 man disconnected the call and the line went dead.

CHAPTER 44

TUESDAY

By the time Harvath stepped outside, his ride was already waiting for him. It was an older, navy blue van with the words David’s 24 Hour Plumbers, Home of the Royal Flush painted along the side. The driver looked like a heavily tattooed thug, barely into his twenties.

When he spotted Harvath, he stepped out of the vehicle and opened the sliding door. “You’ll have to ride back here.”

Harvath climbed inside and tried to get comfortable. It was still dark outside and the morning rush was several hours off.

The van headed east. The driver didn’t speak. A half hour later, it pulled into the garage of a plumbing supply warehouse in East London.

When Harvath’s door was opened, Bob Ashford was waiting for him.

“Sorry for the subterfuge,” he said. “Unfortunately, in this neighborhood Anglo-Saxons stick out like sore thumbs.”

“I’ve ridden in worse conditions. Don’t worry about it. What have you got?”

Ashford led Harvath to a small office with a coffeemaker and a scarred conference table. The walls were lined with shelves stocked with plumbing parts. In the corner was a television set. The MI5 man switched it on while Harvath helped himself to some coffee.

A thin Pakistani man sat at a small desk. There were what appeared to be two plainclothes detectives in the room with him. One was sitting while the other stood leaning against the wall.

“That’s a feed from the room down the hall,” said Ashford as he followed Harvath and poured a cup of coffee for himself. “The man you see there is named Saud Wadi. The men with him are Metropolitan antiterror police.

“Mr. Wadi is one of their informants. Last night, he learned of a terror cell planning to carry out an attack in the very near future.”

“How do you know it’s the cell we’re looking for?”

“Because his youngest brother, Rafiq, is a member.”

Harvath turned and looked back at the image on the TV as Ashford continued. “Apparently, Rafiq has already made his martyrdom video, but he got cold feet. He reached out to his big brother to help him figure a way out. But before Saud could do anything, Rafiq disappeared.”

“And Rafiq told him everything?”

“Unfortunately, no. All he said was that it was a martyrdom operation geared for central London.”