Harvath kept running until he got to the group of Stinger missile cases he had seen earlier. He grabbed one and pulled it off the stack. When he opened it, it was empty, so he cast it aside and reached for the next one. This one was much heavier. He opened the case and pulled out the launcher. Just adjacent to it was a pyramid of machined aluminum tubes. He grabbed a tube, emptied the missile, and loaded the launcher. Next, he primed and readied the system. There would be no need to acquire a target as he had done in the Libyan desert.

Harvath ran back to where Meg was staring down the optical sight of her Steyr at the elevator emptying its load of terrorists. Harvath could clearly make them out from where he had lowered himself to one knee. Their two attackers were cautiously making their way toward the tunnel with several other men, including the man who had been driving the Mercedes that afternoon.

Harvath forwent his usual safety check before firing the Stinger. He depressed the launch switch, the missile uncaged and flew straight toward the first target it could acquire.

The minute the missile was loosed, Harvath dropped the launcher, grabbed Meg Cassidy’s hand, and the two ran like hell for the mausoleum.

66

Harvath’s first instinct was to make for the embassy as soon as they were free of the underground system of tunnels, but he knew it would take too long. He needed to get to a phone and brief Gary Lawlor on everything they had learned.

After coming back up the passageway and through the armoire of the fabric shop, Harvath decided they would just walk straight out the front door. When they hit the street, they immediately set out for the nearby piazza, which they hoped would be crowded with tourists. It had seemed like a good choice. No one was in the shop, nobody suspicious was on the street, and when they got to the square, it was relatively busy.

It had been easy. Too easy.

Suddenly, two rather large looking Middle Eastern men appeared from one of the small side streets. One of them stuck a hand beneath his sport coat, but Harvath was faster, drawing the Browning and pointing it directly at the man’s forehead.

People began screaming, and instantly, it became a mad rush as everyone ran for cover. Scot and Meg pushed their way into the swelling mob, which knocked over café tables and chairs as it surged forward. As soon as they found an open space, Harvath and Meg took off for the far side of the piazza.

They ran as fast as they could, constantly looking over their shoulders for several blocks. When they finally slowed down to catch their breath, police and security checkpoints seemed to be everywhere. Harvath didn’t understand why until he realized that they were nearing Rome’s Palace of Justice. He quietly hoped the heavy police presence would dissuade the two men from pursuing them any further.

Harvath steered Meg into the first hotel he saw, and they slowly walked through the flower-filled lobby, with its brocaded sofas and European antiques, toward the pay phones. As he punched in the numbers, said his name, and then added “unsecure line” for the call, Meg began going through the papers she had taken from the mausoleum. In addition to the airbills, she had also found a map of Rome and its outskirts. The Roman hill town of Frascati had been highlighted in red pen with concentric circles that radiated outward. There was also a long blue line, which began in Rome and ended in Frascati’s main square. In the upper-left-hand corner were the letters CDR, followed by a short series of numbers.

Meg picked up only snippets of Harvath’s half of the conversation. He was speaking as quietly as possible so no one passing the pay phones would hear him.

“High-grade explosives…assault rifles…RPGs…and radioactive material…already sent via FedEx and UPS to operatives in the United States… Hold a second.”

It took Meg a moment to realize Harvath was talking to her.

“…map. Meg? Hello? Are you listening to me?” whispered Harvath.

“What? I didn’t know you were talking to me.”

“I am. What’s that map?” he said as he took it from her hands and stared at it.

“I took it with the rest of the papers.”

Harvath turned back to the pay phone and said, “I’m positive about the attack. Yes, the peace summit in Frascati. I have the map right here. They’ve circled ground zero, with concentric rings based on the success of the device… Make it fast. I don’t think we have much time.”

While Lawlor had Harvath on hold, Meg whispered, “Where did they get all that stuff?”

Harvath looked around before replying. “Iraq. Iran. North Korea. For all we know it could have come out of Russia.”

“That’s terrifying. How can it just be out there floating around?”

“Unfortunately almost anything is available if you can afford it.”

“Do you think Adara plans to use a radiological bomb at the peace summit?”

“It sure looks like it. Even if she just uses a small percentage of what she has in that arsenal, the result will be devastating. I don’t think she and her people know how powerful the attack will be. That’s why your map has all those circles on it. It’s got to be either a blast radius or a fallout radius.”

Meg was about to say something else when Lawlor came back on the line and Harvath’s attention was drawn once again to his call with Washington. The next words she heard from Harvath, coupled with the stress in his voice, chilled her to the bone.

“This is a legitimate threat… They have no choice but to postpone… It’s not giving in to terrorism… If they don’t believe us, tell them to look in those catacombs themselves.”

67

The Italian Rapid Reaction Force Augusta A 109A helicopter that touched down in the wide piazza to pick up Harvath and Meg flew south southeast at over one hundred eighty miles per hour and was able to cover the distance between Rome and the hilltop town of Frascati in less than ten minutes. The sleek chopper circled in over the sixteenth-century Villa Aldobrandini and landed in the ornate gardens before a large statue of Atlas holding up the world.

Heavily armed Carabinieri met Harvath, Meg, and the six Italian Special Forces soldiers when they landed. The soldiers carried a wide array of sensors, which they hoped would help them locate any radioactive or explosive device inside the villa. With more of the property dedicated to the expansive gardens than to the actual buildings themselves, the helicopter lifted off again to conduct a coordinated search of the grounds.

While the soldiers swept the buildings, Harvath had Meg translate his questions to the staff, including questions about deliveries, probing for anything that might be out of the ordinary. What came back was that the level of security in place for this summit was unprecedented. No one could remember security ever being so high. The Rapid Reaction Force soldiers were not finding anything either. In fact, as they talked with the Carabinieri, they were convinced that every conceivable measure had been taken to protect the summit members.

Harvath was quickly running out of answers. As the soldiers moved outside the villa to sweep the nearby shops, parked cars, restaurants, and other buildings, Harvath had a moment to talk with the summit’s chief of security, who had been guiding the soldiers through the different rooms inside. When Harvath showed him the map, the man’s eyes instantly widened.

“Where did you get this?” he demanded.

“Why? What do you see?”

“Those three letters followed by the numbers,” he replied, jabbing his finger at the upper-left-hand corner of the map. “And this blue line.”

“What is it?” asked Harvath as he stared at the map.

“That is a frequency designator for the helicopter transporting guests from the airport in Rome.”