Brad Thor - Full Black

“I won’t be going by myself,” replied Harvath. “I’m going to bring a few friends with me.”

The massive, eight-bladed, three-engine Sikorsky CH-53 Sea Stallion helicopter thundered over the Atlantic Ocean, straight up the East Coast. Inside, Harvath sat with members of the U.S. Navy’s Explosive Ordnance Disposal (EOD) Group Two out of Naval Amphibious Base, Little Creek, Virginia.

Multiple, rapid-deployment U.S. Army Chemical, Biological, Nuclear, Radiological and high-yield Explosive Enhanced Response Force Package teams, also known as CERFP teams, were already en route to Wilmington via Blackhawk helicopters from Fort Meade and Andrews Air Force Base. Rodney Square, directly across the street from the DuPont building, was the designated landing zone and had already been secured by the Wilmington Police Department.

The building was composed of a hotel, theater, bank, retail shops, DuPont’s corporate headquarters, and other general-purpose office space. The hotel was at 30 percent occupancy and its guests were sleeping when the first of the helicopters landed.

The concrete corridors of Wilmington’s downtown business district reverberated with earsplitting thunder as one after another, the large birds flared, then touched down and quickly disgorged their teams and equipment, before lifting back off again and disappearing.

DuPont’s executive director in charge of corporate security, Ron Lamat, was one of the most experienced executive protection specialists in the country. A former Baltimore County Police major, he had trained with the Secret Service and was a graduate of the FBI’s National Executive Institute. When he wasn’t keeping DuPont’s hierarchy and their families safe, he was teaching other executive protection specialists how to do the same for their clients. In a crisis, Harvath couldn’t have hoped to have liaised with a more competent or professional chief of security.

Lamat met Harvath and his team outside at the LZ and led them into the building. Schematics had been laid on hastily erected tables in the lobby. Building engineers, roused from their beds and rushed to the scene, stood by ready to answer any questions or provide access to any of the common or private areas. Rows of radios stood in charging stations plugged into outlets along one wall in case the teams needed a uniform means of communication. Lined up near the radios were four of Lamat’s best men, ready to assist in any way they were needed.

Harvath stood aside talking with the security chief while the EOD and CERFP team leaders discussed how to divvy up the search. As soon as they had come to an agreement, they established a communications protocol and split up.

Based on the failed Chicago bombing of the Boeing building, they began their search focused on the DuPont building’s structural supports.

Even with the large amount of manpower and technology they had, they moved excruciatingly slowly. The first floor alone took more than a half hour to clear.

As they moved up to the second floor, Ron Lamat pulled Harvath aside.

“Do you mind if I make a suggestion?” he said.

“I’m all ears,” replied Harvath.

“I know you wanted to keep this quiet, but you kind of blew that with the helicopters and by using the local PD to secure your LZ. I think we need more searchers or we’re still going to be working our way through this building come lunchtime.”

“What do you have in mind?”

“I can make a couple of phone calls,” said Lamat, “and have fifteen bomb-sniffing dogs here within half an hour. We use one per floor and we can be done here real quick.”

Harvath had wanted to keep things as quiet as possible, but Lamat was right. The dogs could move a lot faster. “Okay, do it,” he replied, “but tell them we need this kept as quiet as possible.”

As the teams had deployed C-Guard RF manpack IED jammers around the perimeter of the building to prevent remote detonation, Lamat’s cell phone couldn’t get a signal and he had to retreat upstairs to his office, where he made the calls via his landline.

Forty-five minutes later, the dogs and their handlers had joined the search and were sweeping throughout the offices on every floor.

When a Belgian shepherd named Gina stopped at a section of drywall in an office on the fourth floor, sat down on her haunches, and looked up at her handler, word went out that they had a hit.

A nearby CERFP team rushed to the office and conducted its own methodical search. Ten minutes later, the team confirmed what the dog had alerted them to. A large amount of explosives had been secreted behind the drywall at a support column.

With Harvath’s approval, Ron Lamat made the decision to evacuate the building, starting with the hotel, while the search continued.

Gina ended up getting hits on every single support column on the fourth floor. After the rest of the building was checked and no other explosives were found, the dogs and handlers were released. The EOD/CERFP teams then moved from support column to support column on the fourth floor, using portable X-ray devices to see exactly what they were dealing with. Insulation had been removed and shape charges made of C4 had been affixed directly to the beams along with remote detonators and extra power packs. There were enough explosives in place to bring the building down three times over. Harvath needed to let Carlton know so the other Dow Jones corporations could be warned.

Using the landline phone in Lamat’s office, Harvath called the Old Man, who was now in the TOC in Reston, and gave him a full situation report.

“Do we have any idea how the explosives got in there or how long they’ve been there?” Carlton asked.

“At this point, we don’t know,” replied Harvath. “Ron is putting an email together right now with a full list of tenants and anything else he thinks might be helpful.”

“Have him send it directly to me.”

“Will do. Anything else?”

“No,” said Carlton. “You’ve done all you can do there. Let the teams handle the explosives. I need you back here. Ashford’s plane is going to be landing soon.”

By the time Robert Ashford’s jet touched down at Dulles, Harvath was already at the Landmark Aviation FBO waiting for him. Customs and Immigration had been alerted to the MI5 operative’s arrival and processed him quickly and professionally right at the plane. Harvath met him on the tarmac.

“I don’t suppose they have any bottled water inside?” Ashford asked after the pair shook hands. “Bloody caterer forgot to load any beverages for the flight.”

Harvath wanted to rip the guy’s face off right there, but he kept his anger under control and tried to act as normal as possible, given the situation. “I think I may have some water in my truck,” he replied as he steered the man toward the parking area.

After a quick search inside his armrest, Harvath apologized and asked if Ashford could hold on for just a few minutes longer. The Brit nodded, Harvath put his car in gear, and they drove out of the airport.

“Reed would have come out to meet you himself,” Harvath said as he headed for the Dulles Toll Road, “but as you can imagine, things have been very chaotic back at the office.”

“Of course. In fact, you didn’t have to come all the way out to get me. I could have taken a cab,” replied Ashford.

Despite flecks of spittle at the corners, the Brit’s mouth was bone-dry. He was obviously dehydrated. And though he tried to hide it, Harvath could see that he was also on edge.

“It’s ten minutes each way,” said Harvath. “It’s not a big deal. We appreciate your dropping everything to come help us.”

“How’s your investigation going?”