Brad Thor - Full Black

Stress, strong odors, bright strobing lights, and loud music were also migraine triggers. Turning the boom box on and the volume all the way up, Harvath then walked over and activated the strobes.

When Ashford began to scream again, Harvath pulled a roll of duct tape from his bag, tore off a piece, and placed it over the man’s mouth.

Fishing a Power Bar and a large bottle of water from the duffel, he stepped outside for his Interrogators Local Union 152-sanctioned break.

When Harvath stepped back into the room ten minutes later, Ashford’s face was wet with tears. Harvath slowly turned off the strobes. He then calmly turned off the music and removed the headphones. Next, he removed the piece of tape from over the man’s mouth and dismantled the strobes, putting all of the equipment back near the table. Moments later, Reed Carlton walked into the room carrying a red file folder in his left hand.

“Hello, Robert,” he quietly said as he approached his old friend.

“Why are you doing this?” the MI5 man stammered.

“How do you feel, Robert?”

“How do you think I feel, you bastard?”

Carlton motioned for Harvath to bring him a chair, which he placed several feet in front of Ashford.

“He doesn’t need to have his head restrained like that,” said the Old Man.

Harvath walked behind him and released the strap.

“Does that feel better, Robert?” Carlton asked.

“Up yours.”

The Old Man ignored the insult. “Robert, I believe you know how this works. I have a series of questions that I will ask you once and only once. If you lie to me, it’s all over. Do we understand each other?”

“May I have some water?”

“Answer my questions and I’ll be happy to give you some water. I’ll also be happy to give you one of those,” he said, pointing at the bottle of pills sitting on the table that Harvath had removed when cleaning out the man’s pockets.

“And then what? You hand me over to the authorities here or back in the U.K.?”

The Old Man shook his head. “No. That’s not an option. You and I go back a long time. You know what I’m capable of, both good and,” he paused, “less than good. So, I’m going to give you a choice. If you cooperate, you’ll have to leave MI5 and leave the U.K., but I’ll resettle you with a new identity. You go into retirement and I never want to hear from you or see you ever again.”

“And if I don’t cooperate?”

“Then no one will ever see you or hear from you again.”

“I’m not leaving the Security Service.”

“I’m not here to bargain with you, Robert. You know full well that I can make good on either of the two options I offered you.”

Ashford didn’t respond. His head was killing him. It felt as if someone had split it wide open with an axe. “I don’t know what you want from me.”

Carlton opened his folder. “Why don’t you start by telling me about the hit on Larry Salomon.”

“Who?”

The Old Man shook his head, closed his file, stood up, and began walking away.

Ashford looked at him. “Where are you going?”

“I’m sorry it had to end like this, Robert.”

“I told you, I don’t know any Larry Salomon. You can’t do this. You can’t just kill me. You won’t kill me.”

Carlton walked back to his chair, set his file folder down, and sprang at the MI5 man. Grabbing a fistful of hair, he torqued the man’s head back. “Thousands of Americans are dead and you think I’m going to play games with you?”

“I’m not involved with the terrorist attacks! Why are you doing this, Reed? I don’t know what you’re talking about. Who put you up to this?”

The Old Man bent the Brit’s head back even farther. “I know the routine, Robert. Deny, deny, deny, and then launch counteraccusations. It isn’t going to work. I’ve offered you an incredible deal, you son of a bitch. It’s better than you deserve. Don’t be an idiot. Take it.”

“But you don’t have a thing on me. I don’t know why you’re doing this.”

Carlton looked at Harvath and said, “Go get him.”

“Go get who?” asked Ashford as Harvath left the room.

“Shut up.”

“Reed, you and I are friends.”

The Old Man wasn’t listening to him. “What changed you, Robert? Was it money? Is that what this is all about?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Show a little character, Robert. Show some dignity. I have offered to let you disappear into retirement. Take the offer.”

“But I haven’t done anything,” the MI5 man insisted. “I don’t know any Larry Salomon. I’m not involved in these horrible terrorist attacks. All I know is that if you had one shred of proof, you’d produce it.”

As the man finished his sentence, Harvath wheeled Yaroslav Yatsko into the room in a wheelchair.

“Hello, Robert,” the Russian said.

“You think MI5 would take his word, a former KGB operative’s, against mine? The word of a man who admits he’s in the murder-for-hire business? You’re crazier than he is!”

Carlton opened the file and showed Ashford what he had. “You two go way back. He kept very meticulous records.”

“If I did communicate with trash like this,” said the Brit, “do you honestly think I’d be stupid enough to do it with an email address that traced back to me?”

“We also have the banking information for the payments made to Mr. Yatsko.”

“Again, how stupid do you think I am?”

“And then there’s Yemen,” said the Old Man.

Suddenly, Ashford’s mask slipped. A flash of panic rippled across his face, but was quickly suppressed.

“That’s right, asshole. We’ve got you dead to rights in Yemen,” said Harvath.

Carlton closed the file and looked at the MI5 operative. “There’s no way out, Robert. There’s also no more time left on the clock. We know everything. The only reason we’re having this conversation is that I wanted to give you a way out. I’m closing the window, though. Either you accept my offer, or I have a van waiting downstairs with a team that will take you out to the country, put a bullet in your head, and plant you in a very cold and lonely piece of ground.”

Harvath had already taken Yatsko back to his room and returned. He was now watching Ashford to see what he would do. They didn’t have him dead to rights on Yemen. That had been a bluff. Harvath had been adamant that Ashford believe that the case against him was overwhelming. He lived for his career, and he needed to believe that it was over. They needed to psychologically strip him naked and convince him that the only way out was through the Old Man.

“And you give me your word that you’ll relocate me? A new identity? A new life? All of it?” said Ashford.

“The economy being what it is, you may end up recycling boxes at a Wal-Mart, but I give you my word,” said the Old Man, who gestured for Harvath to give him some water.

Harvath did as he was instructed.

“I want the person pulling your strings,” replied Carlton, as he motioned for Harvath to bring him the vial of pills from the table.

Ashford was quiet for several moments. Finally, he said, “I won’t testify. It’d be a death sentence. I’d never live to see any trial.”

“You let us worry about the trial.”

“I want money, too. If you want my help, it’s going to cost.”

“I think we should just kill him,” said Harvath.

Carlton waved him off. “I’m not changing the terms of my offer, Robert. It is a take-it-or-leave-it deal. You’re either going into the brand-new Reed Carlton witness protection program, or you’re going into a cornfield in rural New England. It’s your call.”