Chapter 67

Morrell was almost at the door when Harvath slammed his sledgehammer of a fist into the base of the man’s skull.

Morrell’s knees buckled as he lost consciousness and Harvath eased him gently to the floor. He then glanced down at his watch.

Was Morrell telling the truth about the servers’ being offline for fifteen minutes? If he wasn’t, the other Omega Team members would be rushing to the room at this very moment. He counted to five. Nothing happened.

Morrell had at least been telling the truth about the cameras, which meant that Harvath now had less than two minutes to get out of the house unseen.

He grabbed his now ex-friend’s keys, unholstered his Taser, and rapped twice against the door.

Harvath heard the heavy footfalls of the guard on the other side followed by the sliding of the deadbolt as he unlocked the door. He raised the Taser and prepared to fire.

As the door swung open, the guard exposed himself and Harvath squeezed the trigger. The barbed probes embedded themselves in his chest and he was given the electric bull’s ride for five. He fell forward into the room, and after rolling him quickly onto his back, Harvath landed a series of brutal punches to the man’s face and head that rendered him unconscious.

He stripped the guard of his.45 caliber Glock, his keys, a walkie-talkie, and a Benchmade tactical folding knife.

Unlike the Taser Harvath had used in Mexico, this one had a spare cartridge in the grip, and Harvath quickly reloaded the weapon. While these men had been authorized to kill him, they were first and foremost Americans who were doing the job they’d been sent to do. Harvath didn’t want to kill any of them if he didn’t have to.

Harvath stepped cautiously into the hallway. He could hear voices coming from the main part of the cottage, which made his decision to go in the opposite direction even easier.

As he crept closer to the end of the hallway, he could hear a television set. It was accompanied by an irregular whirring sound and an occasional thwack. Harvath had no idea what he was hearing until he neared the room and heard a shout.

Peering around the doorway, his hopes for a clean getaway tanked. Two Omega Team members were playing foosball on one of the rattiest-looking tables Harvath had ever seen. Just past them was a doorway that led to the outside world and beyond it, freedom. The one problem was that Harvath had only a single shot remaining in the Taser.

He had to think of something fast. His time was almost up. Sneaking a quick peek around the corner again, he took in as much of the room as possible and seared the image into his brain.

Both of the men were armed, but Harvath had surprise on his side. He could buttonhook into the room with his Glock drawn and tell them to hit the floor, but there was no guarantee that they would comply. If they called his bluff, he’d be in a very difficult position. He had no desire to shoot them, not even to secure his freedom, but he’d do it if he had to. He could kneecap both of them, but the sound of gunfire would bring the other team members and then he’d really be in trouble. Having shot first, he would undoubtedly be targeted as an active threat that needed to be neutralized. Harvath could very well be signing his own death certificate.

The key was getting out with as little noise and drawing as little attention as possible.

Another shout erupted from the foosball game, and Harvath chanced a third look around the corner. Another goal had been scored, and the man who’d been scored upon was readying to serve the ball. The man opposite him had both his hands upon his metal rods ready for action. It was then that Harvath noticed that most of the handles on the ancient table were missing. The two Omega Team members were gripping bare metal.

Harvath waited for the ball to be served. When the man reached for his other bare rod, Harvath raised the Taser sideways, swung fully into the room and squeezed the trigger.

He embedded a probe into each of the men who had their meaty, sweaty hands on the metal poles and let the fifty thousand volts of electricity fly. It was a nasty and unexpected zap, which took the men completely by surprise. Harvath followed up by “drive stunning” the weapon into each of them, completing the circuit and incapacitating the last obstacle that stood in the way of his escape.

Harvath didn’t bother trying to knock the men out. He made a beeline for the door and let himself outside as quickly as possible.

Staying below the window line, he crept around to the front of the house and fished Rick Morrell’s keys from his pocket. He depressed the remote entry key fob and saw the headlights illuminated on a silver Chevy Tahoe. It would have been a perfect car to make his getaway in except for the fact that it was pinned in at the top of the driveway.

Harvath fished out the other set of keys and repeated the process. A pair of headlights illuminated behind Morrell’s SUV, and Harvath whipped out the Benchmade knife he’d taken from the guard outside his room.

After flattening the tires of the other vehicles, he hopped into the guard’s pickup truck, slid the key into the ignition, and turned, but nothing happened-not even the sickening click, click, click of a shot starter or the whirring noise of an almost dead battery.

There was no way Harvath could escape these guys on foot. Many of them had special operations backgrounds and would easily be able to track him. His one hope was the water. As long as they didn’t have access to a boat, he might be able to outswim them. All he needed to do was put enough distance between him and them before returning to dry land where he could flag a ride or steal another car.

He was about to hop out of the guard’s Ford pickup and make for the water when he discovered the vehicle’s antitheft kill switch.

Seconds later, Harvath pulled out of the driveway and headed the truck north toward D. C. and the man he was going to force to give him some answers.

Chapter 68

NORTHERN VIRGINIA

Philippe Roussard despised America and Americans for many reasons. He despised them for their gluttony, their sloth, and their arrogance. Most of them had never traveled beyond their own borders and yet they believed themselves to be the center of the world and that their way of life was the only correct and righteous way.

He despised them for what he saw as their empire-building-their constant meddling in the affairs of other nations. He despised them not only for the act, but for the concept of globalization. If America was not stopped, he knew that their poison would continue to ooze and affect every nation on the planet until puss-filled sores of capitalism and democracy erupted everywhere. It was America ’s greatest failing, the notion that there were only two types of people in this world-Americans and those who wished they were.

As much as he hated America, however, there was much about the actual physical geography of the country that he found quite enchanting. With the vehicle’s windows rolled down, Roussard drove through the rural Virginia countryside and admired its beauty.

It often confused Roussard why Allah should have blessed the infidels, in particular America and her Western allies, with such prosperity, abundance, and geographical beauty while He allowed the true believers, his Islamic faithful, to often languish in abhorrent conditions in some of the earth’s most desolate locations.

Roussard knew it was wrong to try to discern the mind of Allah, but it was a question he often found himself occupied with. His God was great and He was merciful. In His wisdom He had assigned His people their stations in life so that they might struggle in His name and prove themselves worthy of His acknowledgment. The day of the Muslim people was close at hand. Soon their struggles, their laborious jihad, would bear fruit-ripe, plump, heavy fruit bursting with the sugary sweetness of having vanquished their enemies and having rid the earth of all nonbelievers.