“Yes, it does.”

“I don’t know who to blame. Hashim martyred himself and blew up the van, but he did it to save his sister from an ignoble fate at the hands of Schoen.”

“But what about me?” said Harvath.

“You were there. How could I not blame you?” asked the Troll. “I loved her and now she is gone. You were a part of that night, so yes, in part I do blame you.”

Harvath watched for any sign that the Troll was not telling him the truth. “Enough to want me dead?”

There was a long pause. Finally the man said, “At one point, I wanted you dead. I wanted everyone involved dead. But I realized that what happened was more of Adara’s making than anything else. She was the one ultimately responsible-she and her crazy brother, Hashim. The entire family was destined for tragedy.”

“Including Philippe?” probed Harvath.

The Troll’s eyes drifted toward the water. There was an odd sound coming from the bay. It sounded like a quickly moving watercraft rhythmically crashing against the waves. The only problem was the bay was perfectly calm. There were no waves tonight.

Harvath noticed it too and looked up just as a blacked-out Bell JetRanger helicopter came into view and began firing into the open living room.

Chapter 90

The roar of the large helicopter hovering just above the water outside was eclipsed by the deafening thunder of heavy machine guns emptying themselves into the house.

Harvath grabbed the Troll by the back of his thick neck and forced him to the tile floor as all around them the walls, the furniture, and the fixtures were chewed to a pulp.

Shards of broken glass blanketed the ground, and a fire began in the kitchen. With its wooden construction and thatched roof, Harvath knew the place was going to go up faster than a box of kindling.

Drawing his pistol, he marked in his mind’s eye where the chopper had been hovering and readied himself to return fire. But the opportunity never came.

At a pause in the machine-gun rampage, Harvath popped up from the floor with his Beretta poised, only to see the skis of the helicopter as it disappeared overhead.

Despite the ringing in his ears, he could hear the helicopter as it flew over the roof and had a bad feeling about where it was headed-the landing pad.

The JetRanger could carry anywhere from five to seven passengers, which meant that there was no telling how many men were aboard. Harvath had already expended two rounds of ammunition and had only one spare clip remaining. He didn’t like the odds if they got into a protracted firefight. His only hope was to get the drop on whoever was aboard that helicopter.

When Harvath reached down to help the Troll off the floor, he was no longer there. Harvath spun to see the man running for the front door. Harvath caught him right at the reading nook. “We have to get out of here,” he shouted as he grabbed the dwarf by his collar.

“Not without the dogs!” he returned.

“There’s no time. We have to go now.”

“I won’t leave them!”

Harvath couldn’t believe the Troll would put his life on the line for his dogs. “Now,” he said as he spun him in the direction of the dining room and gave him a shove to get going.

Passing the couch, Harvath grabbed his dry bag and slung it over his shoulder.

At the dining-room table the Troll stopped again, this time for his laptop. Frantically, he began pulling the cables from its ports. Before Harvath could say anything, he stated, “We’ll want this. Trust me.”

Harvath didn’t argue. Grabbing the device by its handle, he jerked it off the table, stripping it from its remaining cables, which went whipping off in different directions.

With his other hand, Harvath took hold of the Troll’s arm and propelled him forward. They ran to the front of the structure, where the dining room and living room met. Beneath them was the glass floor. Many of its panes had been shattered. Others were pockmarked and splintered from the waves of machine-gun fire that had torn up the house.

As Harvath approached the wall of open windows that led out over the water, the Troll stopped dead in his tracks. “What are you doing?”

“I’m getting us the hell out of here. Get moving.”

The Troll twisted free of his grasp and retreated backward into the house.

“You’re going to get us killed. What the hell is wrong with you?”

The Troll glanced at the fire engulfing the kitchen, its flames now high enough to lick at the roof. As he turned back to Harvath he said, “I can’t swim.”

Harvath was about to tell him he had no choice, when all the lights in the house went out. He knew that whoever had started the job with that helicopter was about to storm the house to make sure it was finished.

Chapter 91

Hoping the sound of the idling helicopter would cover their entry into the water, Harvath wrapped his arm around the dwarf’s waist and jumped.

They swam for as long as Harvath could beneath the water before coming up for air. The Troll was terrified and sucked in rapid gasps of air when they broke the surface. Harvath spun him onto his back to help keep his head above water and dragged him in a swimmer’s carry through the bay.

They swam parallel to the shore as the Troll kept an iron two-handed grip on his waterproof laptop. He was incredibly strong for his size. Had he put up any more of a struggle, Harvath very likely would have had to head butt the man to keep him from drowning them both.

Once they were a safe distance from the house, Harvath changed direction and brought them in to shore. As his feet touched the beach the Troll fell over onto his hands and knees and began retching up the cups of seawater he had swallowed during their short swim.

Harvath ignored him. Removing his dry bag, he pulled out his night vision goggles and powered them up.

As he finished heaving, the Troll wiped his mouth on his soaked shirtsleeve and said, “Where are you going?”

Harvath double-checked his pistol and said, “Back to the house.”

“But I’ve got a speedboat at the dock on the end of the island.”

“And they’ve got a helicopter. Helicopter beats boat every time.”

The Troll knew he was right. “So what do we do?” he asked.

Ever since they had escaped from the house, Harvath’s mind had been preoccupied with who was behind the attack. Were they here for him or had they come for the Troll?

It seemed highly unlikely that Morrell and his Omega Team had tracked him all the way to Brazil. But even if they had, this kind of assault was complete overkill, even by Morrell’s standards.

The more Harvath thought about it, the more he realized that whoever these people were, they had most likely come for the Troll. The little man’s list of enemies was long and distinguished. There were any number of governments that would have gladly seen him killed, including America ’s. And on top of that, the dwarf had worked both for and against some the world’s most powerful people and organizations.

The only thing Harvath could count on was that underestimating the attacker would be done at his own peril. “We need to split them up so we can thin them out,” he said.

“Split them up how?” asked the Troll.

“Where are the keys to the boat?”

“In a cup holder next to the front passenger seat.”

Harvath quickly explained what he wanted him to do. When the Troll nodded, Harvath turned and headed back toward the house.

As he moved, he prayed to God his plan would work.