Brad Thor - Foreign Influence

Vaughan knew Harvath was right. He didn’t like it, but he understood it and consented to follow his plan.

He and Davidson would take Levy to Dennis Stern, the trauma surgeon, who would keep everything quiet. Not reporting the pending terrorist attack went against his instincts as a cop and his loyalty to his department, but Harvath had made it very clear that this was now a national security issue and needed to remain classified. The men were told they couldn’t even contact their wives, who had probably already filed missing persons reports, until Harvath released them to do so. Vaughan agreed to hole up in Stern’s office, gave Harvath the surgeon’s cell and office numbers, and then Harvath handed over enough cash for them to get a taxi to the hospital.

When Harvath and Casey were back in their vehicle, they radioed the rest of the team to get ready to take down Jarrah’s store.

Forty-five minutes later, when the team was regrouped and ready to take down the store, Harvath gave the “go” command.

Ericsson disabled the alarm, but that was the extent of their prep work. There was no way they could shut down the power, which meant the closed circuit camera system would still be operational. Based on what Cooper had seen while inside the store, they had developed the best plan they could. Speed, surprise, and overwhelming violence of action would have to work.

They entered from two separate points and moved fast. Cooper and Rhodes took the first-floor office, while Harvath, Casey, and Ericsson headed for the basement. They had just made it to the bottom of the stairs when one of the delivery goons spotted them. He was completely naked, his skin damp as if he’d just stepped out of the shower.

Seeing the intruders, he yelled as he disappeared back into the room he’d just exited.

Harvath, Casey, and Ericsson advanced, only to be driven back by a heavy barrage of machine-gun fire. Several of the rounds ricocheted off the walls and ceiling as well as the pipes that surrounded them.

There was a grunt, followed by Ericsson saying, “I’m hit.”

“How bad?” shouted Harvath as he returned fire and tried to keep their attackers pinned down.

Casey examined her teammate’s wound. “Upper thigh. It’s starting to bleed pretty good.”

“Damn it,” Harvath replied as he fired another burst.

“Office is empty. We’re on our way,” said Cooper over the radio.

“Hurry up,” ordered Casey.

Harvath noticed movement in the hallway and let loose another burst from his MP7. When he realized what had happened, he barely had time to yell, “Flash bang!” as a concussion grenade was banked off the wall at them.

It went off immediately in a blinding flash of white light with a thunderous boom that overpressured the basement. Harvath had barely shut his eyes and his mouth was only partway open when it happened; not enough to fully mitigate the effects. He had no idea if the rest of his team had heard his warning or not.

His vision blurred from the flash, he thought he could see two forms coming right at him. He raised his weapon to fire, but someone beat him to it. There were two loud booms and both figures dropped to the ground. He didn’t know who had fired and how he could have heard it over the ringing in his ears, as everyone on his team was using suppressed weapons. Then he realized the shots hadn’t come from his team. They’d come from someone else; someone at the other end of the hallway.

Drop your weapon!” Harvath yelled. “Drop it now!”

Abdul Rashid straightened his trigger finger and allowed the pistol to roll upside down and hang from it.

Harvath repeated the command in Arabic.

“I’m going to bend down and set it on the ground,” Rashid replied in English.

“Slowly,” said Harvath, his vision and hearing coming back. “Very, very slowly.”

“I’m setting it down.”

Once the weapon was on the ground, Harvath said, “Back up five steps and kiss the ground.”

Rashid did as he was told, and while Rhodes helped tend to Ericsson, Harvath and the rest of the team cautiously advanced.

Harvath kept his weapon trained on Rashid while Casey and Cooper cleared the two rooms on either side of the hallway. Once they were done, he checked the two men Rashid had shot. They were both dead.

“Where’s Jarrah?”

“There’s another room at the far end of the basement. He’s barricaded in there.”

“How many other people in the building?” demanded Harvath.

“There’s nobody else. This is it. Listen, you can’t shoot him. I need Jarrah alive.”

Harvath looked at Casey and Cooper. “Go get him.” Looking down at Rashid, he removed a pair of EZ Cuffs and said, “Put your hands behind your back.”

“My name’s Sean Chase. I’m with the CIA. Ground Branch.”

“Shut up and put your hands behind your back,” Harvath repeated.

Before Chase could respond, Alex Cooper yelled, “Gun!” and all eyes turned to the end of the hallway where Marwan Jarrah had just stepped from around the corner with an AK47 and begun firing.

Marwan Jarrah never had a chance. As the bullets popped and zinged all around her, Alex Cooper stood her ground and returned fire.

Though she wanted to kill him on the spot by putting two rounds right into his head, she focused on his chest and didn’t lay off of her trigger until he laid off of his.

The Iraqi fell back against the wall and left a trail of blood as he slid down into a sitting position. His AK clattered to the ground next to him and Cooper kicked it away.

Chase tried to get up, but Harvath kept his knee in his back as he zipped his cuffs.

“I don’t know who the hell you are,” shouted Chase, “but if he dies, you’re in a lot of trouble.”

Harvath stood up, yanked Chase to his feet, and handed him to Casey. “Let him ask any questions he wants, but watch him.” Harvath then took Cooper to clear the rest of the basement.

“You lied to me,” murmured Jarrah as Chase kneeled next to him.

“Tell me how I can reach Aleem,” he said, knowing full well it was pointless. Marwan wasn’t going to give him up.

The Iraqi laughed and then produced a wet cough as he spat up blood. “I treated you like a son.” His eyelids were drooping and his breath was coming in sharp gasps.

He whispered something further but Chase couldn’t hear it and so leaned in closer. “What did you say?”

“I have something to tell you,” the Iraqi rasped, before his body was racked once more with bloody coughs.

“What is it?”

“I have a secret.”

Chase was inches away from his face. “What is it, Marwan? Tell me.”

As his final breath escaped his body, Jarrah looked at his beloved protégé and said, “I lied to you too.”

After clearing the basement, Harvath came back to interrogate the man claiming to be from the CIA.

“Listen, there’s going to be an attack downtown in two hours.”

“Let’s start with who the hell you are,” said Harvath.

“I told you, my name is Sean Chase. Call Langley and ask to be connected to Kip Houghton. He’s my handler.”

Harvath nodded at Cooper, who removed her cell phone and headed for the stairs.

“Jarrah’s got eight suicide bombers,” continued Chase, “but you don’t need to worry about them. What you need to be worried about-”