Chapter 72

On Twelfth Street, just south of Logan Circle, Harvath doubled back once more to make sure he wasn’t being followed and then crossed the street and entered the bank.

The bank officer was professional and polite. After checking Harvath’s ID and signature, she gestured for him to follow her to the vault that contained the safe-deposit boxes.

Harvath produced his key and in a synchronous fashion that he felt certain was designed to impress, the bank officer followed his lead, inserted her key, and turned it at exactly the same moment as if they were about to unleash a nuclear weapon.

Once the box was withdrawn, he was shown to a small, private room where the door was shut behind him and he was left alone.

Harvath lifted the lid off the box and removed the normal things one would expect to find-stock certificates, bonds, and legal papers. Beneath them was what Harvath had really come for.

As he stared at the items, he felt a strange sense of reluctant contentment for having had the foresight to be prepared for such an event. Actually, who was he kidding? It wasn’t foresight. He was just practical. His own government had turned on him repeatedly. What prompted him to keep the stash of items was a keen instinct for survival, plain and simple.

There had been the president’s kidnapping years ago, the more recent setup in Iraq with Al Jazeera, and now this. Each time the people he served had left him on the outside looking in. They had branded him a criminal and now, a traitor.

He had always known he was expendable. It was part of the territory, but to lump his family and friends in that category was unacceptable.

Every time he’d been forced to the outside, Harvath had had to muscle his way back in. He’d had to make the powers that be see that he was right and that they were wrong. This time, though, he didn’t know if things were that black and white. He wasn’t going to just sit back while someone stalked the people in his life. And for the first time ever, Harvath thought he might actually burn for what he was doing.

He’d always been about doing the right thing. He had pursued the correct course of action repeatedly throughout his career, often at his own peril, but with the knowledge that as long as he did what he felt was right, he’d be able to look at himself in the mirror and that was all that mattered.

Now, he was confronting something new-two versions of what was right: the president’s version and his own. The decision Harvath had to make, though, went much deeper than simply what was right. It was about protecting the people he cared about who had been put in harm’s way for no reason other than their love or friendship with him.

In Scot Harvath’s mind, there could be no bigger betrayal, no larger disloyalty than to allow these innocents to be harmed. Whatever the cost to himself, he had to stop that from happening.

Chapter 73

Harvath gathered the things he needed from his safe-deposit box and left the bank.

As he stepped outside, his eyes rapidly scanned everything-rooftops, parked cars, the people on the street. The president had put an Omega Team on his trail, and Harvath knew that they would use all necessary means to stop him.

The team could be anywhere at this point, and he needed to be prepared for what he would do if they found him.

Harvath made it back to his SUV without incident and headed northwest out of D. C. As he drove, he removed another cell phone from the bag on the backseat and dialed.

He wanted to check on his mother and Tracy, but it was too risky. If the CIA was looking for him, they’d be watching for calls that came in to either of the hospitals. Instead, he dialed the outside access number for his BlackBerry’s voicemail system to check for messages.

There were several from Gary Lawlor. Having just spoken with him, Harvath deleted them. The only other message was from Ron Parker. He was urging Harvath to call as soon as possible and left a different number than usual to contact him.

Harvath punched the digits into the phone and waited. The quality of the ringing changed halfway through and it sounded as if the call was being routed. Harvath started to grow uneasy. If the CIA had used Tim Finney’s pilots as well as Rick Morrell against him who might be next?

Realizing that any CIA interference would be virtually undetectable, he decided against hanging up. A moment later, Parker answered.

“Are you someplace safe?” he said.

“Safe enough for now,” replied Harvath. “Is this line secure?”

“Our mutual fly-fishing friend set it up. As long as we stay away from specifics, I think we’ll be okay.”

Harvath knew immediately what Parker was talking about. Tom Morgan had set up the communication link and the need to stay away from specifics was because as good as Morgan was, the CIA and NSA were better. If they wanted Harvath bad enough, which apparently they did, the CIA and NSA could have programmed the Echelon eavesdropping system to monitor all calls for certain keywords relating to Harvath and what he was embroiled in.

Therefore, Harvath needed to choose his words very carefully. “Did you know about the change of plans on my trip home?”

“Not until after you had already deplaned. If we had known, we would have told you.”

Harvath knew Parker well enough to know that he was telling him the truth. “How’d they find out?”

“They learned about our little trip south of the border. But not until you were already on your way back from overseas. How’d everything work out?”

“It was quite enlightening. Apparently our little buddy has not been completely forthcoming.”

“About what?” asked Parker.

“His list was light by one name.”

“Do you think it was a mistake?”

Harvath laughed. “Not a chance. He knew what he was doing. We just need to find out why.”

There was a long pause before Parker responded. “We need to talk.”

Those four words had never meant anything good when uttered to him by a woman, and Harvath felt even less confident about their being anything but a prelude to bad news right now. “What’s up?” he asked.

“All of our contracts have been canceled,” said Parker.

“Canceled? What are you talking about?”

“We received calls from our special clients back east and they all invoked the same cancellation clause. No discussion, no explanation.”

Harvath didn’t know what to say. The contracts for Site Six and the Sargasso Program were their bread and butter. They represented a tremendous amount of money. “I guess that’s the big boys’ subtle way of telling you that I’m persona non grata.”

“Actually,” replied Parker. “It wasn’t so subtle. One of the larger dogs in the five-sided kennel called to let us know that all of the contracts could be immediately reinstated.”

“If you only agreed to sever all ties with me.”

“Pretty much.”

Harvath didn’t like having put his friends in this position. They’d already done more than enough for him. With the Pentagon offering them a way out, Harvath decided he’d make it easy on them. “Thank your boss for everything and tell him to consider all contact between us severed.”

“You can thank him yourself. He told them all to go to hell.”

That was very much like Finney. With all the betrayals Harvath had suffered lately, it was nice to know he still had some real, true friends, which was all the more reason not to let Finney devastate the business he’d worked so hard to build and so loved operating. “He’s a charmer. He’ll bring them around.”

“What about you?”

“I’m going to finish what these people started,” said Harvath.

“They can cancel our contracts, but they can’t stop us from helping you.”