Brad Thor - State Of The Union

With his Finnish-made JatiMatic PDW drawn, Leighton quietly crept toward the beach. He picked his way along the jagged shoreline, slogging through frigid knee-deep tidal pools, while using the abundance of large rocks for cover as best he could.

When he neared the field of smooth, ocean-tumbled stones that functioned as the inlet’s beach, Leighton crouched behind the last large rock that stood between him and the wide-open space. As the waves splashed against the shore and further soaked his already drenched trousers, he once again raised the night vision binoculars and studied the two shapes he had been looking at before. Upon closer inspection, he still couldn’t tell if they were piles of kelp or something more. But he had seen movement. He was sure of it.

At that moment, a voice from behind and to the left caught him completely off-guard. “Mr. Leighton, I presume?” Leighton stiffened in surprise.

“Please set down your weapon and turn around slowly,” continued the voice.

Leighton did as he was told. As he turned around, the man who had addressed him lowered the M4 he had pointing at him, pulled off the strings of camouflaging kelp that were hanging from his dry suit, and stepped the rest of the way out of the water. “I’m Norseman,” the man said, holding out a gloved hand.

Leighton was speechless. He hadn’t even heard so much as a ripple from the water. Whoever this guy was, he was good. Though he cautiously shook the man’s hand, Frank Leighton still wasn’t convinced they were on the same side.

Harvath shouldered his weapon and removed his fins, tucking them under his left arm. Taking off his gloves, he slid them underneath his weight belt and then signaled the beach and the rusting trawler with a small, waterproof IR strobe. When his signals were returned, Harvath removed his facemask and said to Leighton, “It looks like a nice night for a boat ride. Let’s get going.”

On the beach, they rendezvoused with Leighton’s two piles of kelp, operatives Morrell and DeWolfe. Knowing that he had spotted at least part of the team made Leighton feel only slightly better. Though his skills were still good, they weren’t near what they used to be.

Forgoing the courtesy of an introduction, Morrell asked, “Where’s the device?”

“Let’s establish somebona fides first,” replied Leighton.

“I thought we already did that.”

“We’re off to an okay start, but if you think I’m going to hand my responsibilities over to a group of frogmen who show up and just happen to speak English without any accents and claim to be on my side, you’re quite mistaken.”

“Listen,” snapped Morrell. “Don’t try my fucking patience. This suit is good for only about ten more minutes and then my body heat, which you are prematurely raising, is going to begin leaching out. I’m sure our friends the Russians out there on the water are using thermal imaging to keep an eye on this place. If they notice more than one warm body on this island, they might think there’s a little beach barbecue going on and want to come in for a closer look. We can’t let that happen.”

Leighton, far from being a pushover, went toe-to-toe with Morrell and said, “Then you’d better keep your cool.”

Morrell raised his M4 and pointed it right at Leighton’s chest. “No, I think you’d better get with the fucking program.”

“This guy always have a mouth like this?” asked Leighton, turning toward Harvath.

“Not usually. He must have lost his thesaurus on the swim in.”

“Very funny,” said Morrell. “Now we’ve got nine minutes and counting. Either you’re part of the solution, or I’m going to spread you across the beach and you can become part of the landscape.”

“He’s serious, isn’t he?” asked Leighton.

Harvath simply nodded his head.

“I’ve got some questions I want answered first. And like I said, we’ll start by establishingbona fides.”

“And like I said,” returned Morrell, “we don’t have time for that shit. We’ve already proven ourselves. We’re all on the same team here.”

“Well, without me on the team, you’re going to have a hard time finding what you’re looking for, so I suggest you cooperate, take a few minutes, and answer my questions.”

Morrell removed a small handheld device. “I’ve got the GPS coordinates for what I’m looking for, so I don’t really need your cooperation, do I?”

Leighton smiled. “Those coordinates might get you there, but that’s about all they’ll get you.”

“Why? What have you done?”

“Let’s just say what you’re looking for isvery well protected.”

Morrell’s eyes widened. “You booby-trapped it, didn’t you?”

Leighton remained smiling.

“Carlson,” called Morrell over his throat mike as he turned to face the trawler moored in the inlet. “I need you on the beach, ASAP.”

Carlson, who, along with Avigliano, was prepping theRebecca with a special surprise, thought he had a better idea and voiced his opinion.

“No, I’m not sending Harvath to do it,” barked Morrell in response to the Carlson’s voice in his earpiece. “Fuck his SEAL training. You’re the demo expert, so get your ass over here now.”

Leighton looked at the men on the beach. “Who’s Harvath?”

“What the fuck do you care?” growled Morrell.

“You’ve got a SEAL named Harvath. I want to know who he is.”

“You want, you want, you want. You know what? Fuck you.”

“Easy, Rick,” said Scot, stepping in to separate the two men. “I’m Harvath.”

The binoculars had fried Leighton’s eyes worse than he had thought. After squinting a moment, he said, “Of course you are. You look just like him. You sound like him too. I can’t believe I didn’t see it right off the bat.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” asked Morrell.

Leighton ignored him. “You’re Mike Harvath’s son.”

“You knew him?” asked Scot.

“Yeah, back in Vietnam when I was with Army Intelligence. Gary introduced us. We did a couple of joint ops together. He was a good man.”

“Yes he was.”

There was silence on the beach. Morrell raised his eyebrows and looked back and forth several times from Harvath to Leighton. “Have we established ourbona fides now?”

Though he didn’t care much for Morrell, the resemblance Harvath bore to his father was enough to satisfy Leighton that these men were who they said they were. “We’re good. Follow me.”

“Fabulous,” sneered Morrell, who activated his throat mike and addressing Carlson said, “Scratch that last order. You and Avigliano finish prepping the boat. We’re going to get the package. Be ready to move.”

Harvath gave everything on theRebecca a final check before raising anchor and sailing the old trawler through the island’s narrow channel and out into the open sea.

The noxious blue smoke of the coughing diesels couldn’t mask the smell of the salt-laden air. The scent stirred up a flood of memories in Harvath. Despite the amount of time he had spent in and around the ocean as an adult, its smell always reminded him of time he had spent with his father as a young boy. As far back as Harvath could remember, the ocean had been part of their life. They lived near it, swam in it, fished in it, and sailed upon it. While some fathers and sons talked and bonded over baseball or other sporting pursuits, Scot’s father, who was not a very communicative man to begin with, was always able to talk about the ocean. He spent hours teaching his son about navigation by stars and currents, sextant and compass. The younger Harvath had incredible recall and could name any type of navy vessel in San Diego Harbor after only seeing it one time. The same went for battle ships, frigates, and the like which his father would point out in books. By the time he was twelve, Harvath had read all of the Horn-blower novels, courtesy of his father’s vast maritime library. In fact, Scot had long suspected that had it not been for the navy, his father would have very likely selected some other seafaring profession that would have kept him connected to the mistress he loved so dearly.