Harvath looked at Marjan. “You can sketch the base layout, as well as the interrogation facility?”

The NDS operative nodded.

“Then the only thing we’re missing…” Harvath began to say, but his voice trailed off as Inspector Rashid stood and disappeared behind a pile of carpets.

He returned carrying a watertight, high-density, plastic Storm case and said, “Are the munitions.”

Gallagher looked at Harvath and smiled. “I told you he was good.”

“I never doubted it for a second,” lied Harvath.

The room was warm and he removed his jacket and set it on the floor behind him. Rolling up his sleeves, he looked at the Afghans as Rashid retook his seat and said, “Now we need a plan.”

They spent the next six hours evaluating their objective and assessing their options. The shopkeeper downstairs kept the tea coming and sent his son out twice for food.

One of the biggest things bothering Harvath about the operation was the satellite imagery he’d seen. According to Marjan, the Afghans had reconstructed several of the base buildings to use as barracks. The NDS operative’s assurance that the barracks were only used when training exercises were being conducted did little to stem Harvath’s concern, especially considering that the interrogation facility was located beneath one of them.

Not knowing how many Afghan Special Forces soldiers were guarding Khan was one thing, but they also had no way of gauging how many soldiers would be in the barracks above, or how many would be on the base in general. The fact that his team could easily be outnumbered and overwhelmed weighed heavily on Harvath’s mind, as did the fact that if that happened, there would be no cavalry he could call for help.

He and Gallagher drilled Rashid, Pamir, and Marjan relentlessly. Looking at his watch, Harvath decided they all needed a break. There were only a couple of hours of daylight left and he wanted to drive the perimeter of the base, as well as visit the ruins of the old palace at the end of Darulaman Road to see what kind of vantage point it might provide.

The men agreed to reassemble at midnight, and Harvath warned them all one last time not to talk to anyone, especially Rashid, who had repeatedly offered to reach out to a few more contacts to see if he could nail down the exact troop strength at the base. It was more important that they maintain the element of surprise. Besides, based on Harvath’s plan, it didn’t matter if the Afghans had five men there or five hundred. Either it was going to work or it wasn’t.

Harvath wrapped the Storm case in a plastic garbage bag and waited while Gallagher brought the Land Cruiser around. Once it was loaded, the two Americans drove down Chicken Street and headed for the Darulaman Road.

Baba G was uncharacteristically silent.

“You can still back out,” said Harvath.

“What makes you think I want to back out?”

“Nothing. I’m just saying.”

“I don’t like rush jobs.”

Harvath nodded. “Nobody does, but when the window of opportunity opens, you move or it closes.”

“We can still bring Fontaine with us.”

Harvath understood Gallagher’s apprehension, and the idea of bringing someone as qualified as the Canadian was tempting. Though he and Baba G had both the right kind of training and the experience for an operation like this, Pamir and Marjan were a different story. At best, the two Afghans were window dressing. If the fit hit the shan, there was no way of knowing how they’d react. Having Fontaine along would dramatically improve their odds, but he had the potential to be a political liability. Harvath couldn’t allow the president or the United States to be implicated in what he was going to do. “We’re not taking him,” he finally said.

Gallagher understood and changed the subject. “So you’re sure Boyle will let us stage at the hospital?”

“It depends on how much he trusts us. This whole thing could end up being a big problem for him. If we spring Khan and the Afghans figure out he helped, it’ll be very bad for him and the hospital. We have to do it in a way that provides cover for him.”

“And how do we do that?”

“I’m still working that one out,” said Harvath.

“Well, you’d better hurry up,” replied Baba G. “Without Boyle’s cooperation, there’s absolutely no way this thing is going to work.”

CHAPTER 25

EAST HAMPTON, NEW YORK

Elise Campbell and Rita Klees were leaning against the detective’s Mini Cooper, finishing their Starbucks coffees as Christine De Palma pulled into the gravel parking lot of the Cobblestone Nursery at 7:30 A.M. on the dot.

“Thank you for meeting us this morning,” said Rita as De Palma climbed out of her Mercedes SUV and came over to greet them.

She was an attractive, petite woman in her late forties. Her medium-length brown hair was pulled back in a bun and her face bore only a hint of makeup. She wore a green Barbour jacket, a gray cashmere sweater, tan jodhpurs, and a pair of green Wellington boots. “Of course. You said this had to do with Sheryl and Charlie’s accident?”

“It does,” replied Klees as she introduced Elise. “I’d like you to meet Elise Campbell of the United States Secret Service.”

Campbell stepped forward and the two women shook hands.

“Is it okay if we speak inside?”

“Certainly,” replied De Palma. “Follow me.”

Pulling a large brass ring from her pocket, De Palma found the correct key, slid it into the lock, and opened the front door. She flipped on the lights and deactivated the alarm. The room was cold and smelled of damp earth. After locking the front door behind them, she led the women through another door and across a small landscaped court to a vintage greenhouse.

Inside, the temperature was much more agreeable. The air smelled of flowers and other fresh greenery. De Palma flipped a series of switches and somewhere a fountain began to bubble. In the center of the greenhouse was a cast-iron table with matching chairs.

De Palma pulled one out and motioned for the ladies to sit. “The greenhouse beats meeting in my cramped office any day of the week.”

“Mine too,” replied Klees.

“So what can I do for you?”

“First of all,” stated Elise, “I want you to know that this is all completely off the record and has nothing to do with the East Hampton Police Department. I asked Rita if she knew you and she offered to introduce us.”

“Okay,” said De Palma, drawing the word out.

“As Sheryl Coleman’s business partner,” Elise continued, “you could have had grounds to bring a wrongful death claim. Why didn’t you?”

De Palma was a bit taken aback. “Am I suspected of having done something?”

Campbell smiled and shook her head. “No. Not at all. I’m just curious.”

“What does this have to do with Sheryl and Charlie’s death?”

“Mr. Coleman’s parents began a civil action, but then dropped it. Supposedly, there was some sort of settlement.”

“There was nothing supposed about it,” replied De Palma. “Stephanie Gallo had been trying to get them to drop that suit from day one, but Charlie’s father wouldn’t quit. He hated Alden and he said no amount of money in the world could get him to back down.”

“He told you that?”

De Palma nodded. “He probably shouldn’t have, but we’re like family, even more so after Charlie and Sheryl and the kids were killed.”

“So what happened to change their minds?”

“Apparently, they had just gotten through the first set of questions they wanted the defendants to answer-”

“Interrogatories?” asked Elise.

“That’s right,” she replied. “Gallo and Alden’s attorneys kept trying to outmaneuver the Colemans with continuances and that kind of garbage and I think Herb and Janet realized just how many years they could be in court over it. The suit definitely wasn’t going to keep Alden from getting elected, which is something I think Herb secretly wanted. Finally, Gallo made the Colemans an offer they couldn’t refuse.”