Chapter 79

Harvath awoke with a start, and it took him a few moments to realize where he was. He’d been having the nightmare again.

His body was clammy with sweat and his heart was pounding a mile a minute. Though he’d been asleep for several hours, he actually felt worse than when he’d first lain down.

It didn’t make a difference. He was awake now and knew that he wouldn’t be able to fall back asleep until later on in the evening.

Harvath got back into the shower and this time finished by throwing the water lever all the way to cold.

He shaved and changed into the one clean set of clothes he’d brought along with him. Next he picked up the phone and called down to the concierge. His helicopter tour was all arranged for the next morning, and the helicopter company was even sending a private car to pick him up. Harvath thanked the concierge and after asking directions to the closest pharmacy, he hung up the phone.

The pharmacy wasn’t far, and after picking up what he needed for the next day, he returned to his room, opened up the small laptop he’d purchased before leaving D. C., and logged on to the internet. It took him an hour before he was comfortable with the safeguards he’d built to avoid detection. He’d used numerous proxy servers as well as several shareware encryption programs that were actually quite good. If the CIA or anyone else tried to pinpoint his location, they’d have a very hard time.

Harvath logged on to the account he’d given Vaile for this purpose and opened the email. Most of the file had been sterilized, but the highlights were all there. The first things Harvath looked at were the photos of Philippe Roussard.

Harvath was pretty good with names, and he was incredible with faces. Though there was something familiar about the man, Harvath was positive he’d never met him before in his life.

So, if it wasn’t Roussard who was out for Harvath, it had to be the people behind him; the people who had gotten him released from Gitmo. He continued to read through the Frenchman’s jacket for the next hour, but nothing leaped out at him. As far as Harvath was concerned, there wasn’t a single clue in there that could prove useful-other than the actual photos of the man’s face.

According to Vaile’s email, Carolyn Leonard and Kate Palmer, who were both in very serious condition, had identified Roussard as the man who had offered them the tainted perfume at Tysons Galleria on Saturday. Unfortunately, Emily Hawkins was in no condition to answer any questions at this point, but Harvath already knew that she would ID him too. So would his mother, he realized with a sharp pang, if and when her eyesight returned. In short, having the photos was a start, but a much too slow one.

Harvath logged on to the gmail account he’d established with Ron Parker and Tim Finney and opened the message waiting for him in the draft folder. It started off with a brief recap of everything Parker had already told him, along with a caution not to try to reach either of them on their cell phones as both of them believed they were being monitored. The same went for text messaging or any of their normal email accounts.

There was an intelligence brief from Tom Morgan that backed up what Vaile had said about the Moroccan and Australian terrorists’ having been recently put under surveillance in their home countries. Based on the timeline, they could not have been involved in the attacks back in the United States.

Harvath uploaded the pictures of Roussard, as well as the salient details from his dossier, and asked Finney to make sure the security details watching over Tracy and his mother were given copies.

As Parker knew Harvath would be concerned about contacting the hospitals directly, he provided cell numbers for the men watching his mother and Tracy, if he wanted to safely get updates that way.

After Harvath finished reading the balance of the message, he deleted it and logged off the account. Surfing to one of the multiple VoIP, or Voice over Internet Protocol accounts, he had, Harvath downloaded the necessary software to his computer, plugged in the headset from his BlackBerry, and called his mother’s security detail in Southern California.

He spoke briefly with the man who answered, who assured him the coast was clear before closing the door and handing the phone to Harvath’s mother.

They talked for about ten minutes and then Harvath explained to her that he had to go. He promised he’d call her back as soon as he could.

Next, he called Tracy ’s team. The lead detail agent explained that while Tracy ’s parents were relatively polite, it was obvious they didn’t want them there. Harvath thanked the man for what he and his colleagues were doing. Tracy ’s parents might not be crazy about all the muscle hanging around the ICU, but if anything happened, they’d be darn glad to have them there.

As Harvath had with the team on the West Coast, he gave the team leader a physical description and a full rundown on Philippe Roussard and told him to expect photographs from Finney and Parker soon.

The guard passed his phone to Tracy ’s father, Bill. It was an awkward conversation. There was nothing new to report on Tracy ’s condition. They’d run several more tests, but unless they could wean her off the ventilator, there was no way they could perform an MRI. As it was now, her EEG showed significantly reduced brainwave activity, which the neurology team felt was an indication of permanent brain damage.

The lack of progress didn’t surprise Harvath, but it still wasn’t what he’d hoped to hear. He spoke briefly with Tracy ’s mother, Barbara, and then asked if she’d hold the phone up to Tracy ’s ear for a couple of minutes.

When he was sure the phone was in place, he began speaking. Soon he forgot all about the fatigue that had worked its way into every corner of his body. All he cared about was Tracy and being strong for her. He told her how much he loved her and how much he was looking forward to her getting out of the hospital so that they could pick up where they had left off.

He ran through all the things they were going to do together-the fishing trip to Jackson Hole, Tracy ’s favorite pastime of seeing the fall colors in New England, and going to Greece, where Harvath couldn’t wait to introduce her to the islands of Paros and Antiparos, as well as all his friends.

Finally, Harvath ran out of things to say. Some people might have been ashamed by it, but he and Tracy had realized early on that it was a sign of their compatibility. They were able to enjoy being with each other without saying anything at all.

He told her once more that he loved her and reminded her that she was one of the greatest warriors he knew. She needed to remain strong. She was fighting for her life and she’d make it as long as she remained focused on nothing short of complete and total recovery.

Whether she could hear him, he had no idea. Harvath liked to think she could. He had read enough articles about coma patients to believe that many of them could hear and comprehend what was being said to them. If nothing else, it was a sign of how much he loved and respected her. As long as she was drawing breath, even if it was with the assistance of a machine, he was going to treat her the same way he’d always treated her.

When Tracy ’s mother took the phone back, Harvath said good-night to her and hung up.

Dialing room service, Harvath ordered dinner. Tomorrow was going to be a rough day, and he was going to need every ounce of strength he could muster.