“If anybody asks, I was getting the cocoa for me and then decided to take a walk to the ski patrol office,” said Nick.

“Whatever you want, man. Thanks,” said Vance as Nick turned and left the office.

“Did you guys get it that bad?” asked Scot once the door had closed behind Nick.

“It wasn’t pretty, but I did just what you said.”

“What I said? What’d I say?”

“To blame you.”

“Hey, wait a second. I said I would take full responsibility.”

“Same thing. I told Nick to keep his mouth shut, and I did all the talking.”

“Do you find it funny that I’m not grateful?”

“Nick needs this job a hell of a lot more than I do, as is currently being evidenced by the fact that I am even talking to you. Now, I take it you came here for more than hot chocolate.”

“Yeah, I need another favor.”

“As long as it doesn’t involve the helicopter.”

Scot winced. “That pilot was great. How bad they give it to him?”

“He’s working an oil-rig chopper in the Arctic Circle”-Vance paused for effect, looking at his watch-“starting right about, now.”

“Get outta here.”

“I’m just foolin’. He kept his mouth shut when the FBI guys and the sheriff chewed him out for taking the scenic route and interfering with a federal investigation. But when our boss launched into him, he told him to go screw himself.”

“You’re kidding.”

“Nope. Technically, the guy’s retired, and he does this job during the season for fun. He needs his job even less than I need mine, plus he hates the boss with a passion. He told me to thank you.”

“Thank me?”

“Yeah, says it was the most fun he’s had in a long time.”

“Well, I was glad to be of service. Listen, about that favor I need,” Scot continued.

“What can I do you for?”

“Do you have a computer in here that can access the Net?”

“Of course.”

“I need to use it.”

“Sure, sit right here, and be my guest,” said Vance, motioning to the chair next to him.

“I need to use it alone,” said Scot.

“Dude, no way. If the boss finds out that my machine has been used to surf the porno sites, then I am definitely out of here.”

“I’m serious.”

“All right, I can see that now is no time for levity. How long do you need it for?”

“Probably no longer than a half hour. Forty-five minutes tops.”

“I can leave you alone in this office, but I’ve gotta stay in the outer office in case we get a call.”

“Thanks, Vance. I appreciate it. Do me one more favor, would ya?”

“What?”

“Close the door behind you on the way out.”

27

Considering the ordeal he had been through, it was no wonder Harvath was tired. Vance could see his friend was not only exhausted, but also still in a lot of pain. When Scot came out of his office and thanked him for the use of the computer, Vance handed him his now less-than-hot hot chocolate and arranged for one of the ski patrollers to take him back up to Snow Haven via snowmobile.

Harvath had the driver go around the outside to avoid the reporters. When he arrived parallel with the compound, he thanked the patroller as two Secret Service agents waved him on through to the main house. His fatigue weighed on him. He had been trained to go for days with no sleep if necessary, but he had also been taught that sleep was a powerful weapon. Sleep helped keep your mind razor-sharp, and at this point his wasn’t.

As he approached the kitchen door, he saw several agents stomping out cigarettes, cutting their break short to return inside. Knowing something must be up, Scot hastened his steps and entered the house not far behind them. Most of the agents were gathered around a large-screen TV in the AV room.

The TV was tuned to CNN, and as Scot entered, CNN’s Live Special Report logo was just fading down and the anchor said a few words before introducing a reporter in the field. Scot’s stomach tightened when he saw who it was. A bad feeling crept over him, and he let out a low moan that was overheard by several of the agents standing next to him.

“Thank you, Richard. As you know this country and the rest of the world has been holding its breath as the search for President Jack Rutledge continues amid the snow and ice from Sunday afternoon’s avalanche here in Park City, where the president was enjoying a ski vacation with his sixteen-year-old daughter, Amanda. All of these efforts, though, may be in vain.”

A collective intake of breath could be heard throughout the room. The images on screen went from Jody Burnis at the bottom of a ski hill with cranes and rescue equipment in the background, to the interior of the Silver Lake Lodge. The camera angle showed Jody speaking to a man whose back was to the camera and whose face was partially obscured from view. Most people watching would not know whom she was interviewing, but unfortunately, anyone who knew Scot could tell it was him.

Jody’s narrative continued. “According to sources close to and within the Secret Service, CNN has learned that the avalanche that claimed the lives of over two dozen Secret Service agents and six civilians, all now confirmed dead, and which has sparked a massive search-and-rescue effort to recover any remaining survivors, including the president, apparently was no accident.

“Our sources tell us that the avalanche was created as a diversion in order to facilitate the kidnapping of the president of the United States. Of course at this point neither the Secret Service, the FBI, nor the White House will confirm or deny these reports, but we will of course keep you up to speed and bring you further information as we have it…”

The chili in Scot’s stomach turned, and he could taste bile. That reporter had used him, but why? Why him? If she was going to fake an interview with a source within the Secret Service, why didn’t she just use a production assistant or something? If you were going to stray that far from the truth, what difference did it make? It made no sense. Had she interviewed him actually thinking he might give her something she could use and then, after their unpleasant exchange, decided to use him anyway out of spite?

Harvath walked into the kitchen and poured himself a cup of coffee. A couple of Secret Service agents who had been standing next to him in the AV room were right behind him. The expression on their faces said it all.

Scot wasn’t about to let everyone think he had cooperated even for a second with CNN. “That interview was BS. I never told that reporter anything other than ‘no comment,’ so don’t come in here looking at me like that.”

“Hey, Harvath,” said one of the agents, “we’re not looking at you like anything. We just came in to get some coffee. That’s it.”

Scot shook his head in disgust and, taking his cup of coffee, walked out of the kitchen toward the front door. He needed to check the transport roster and see when the next team would be rotating out and going back to the hotels. Ever since the avalanche, all of the Secret Service vehicles had been reassigned on a priority basis. He needed to grab just a couple of hours of sleep and then he could start making sense out of things.

As he walked the snowy path toward the command center, he thought to himself that the day couldn’t get much worse, but when the command center door flew open and Gary Lawlor stood staring out at him, he knew he had been sorely mistaken.

Lawlor was flanked by two large men whom Scot hadn’t seen before and suspected were also FBI agents. Lawlor’s face said everything. He was enraged but icy at the same time. It was a frightening juxtaposition. There was no doubt in Scot’s mind that it wouldn’t take much to push Lawlor into a full-on explosion. Standing here in front of all of his colleagues, the last thing Harvath wanted was to be ripped by the deputy director of the FBI, so he proceeded with extreme caution.