Brad Thor - Takedown

Hastings looked down at him still poised between her legs and raised her eyebrows.

Harvath shook his head and began to get up. “I’m talking about the people who are responsible for all this.”

A smile came to Tracy ’s face, and she was about to say something, when Harvath’s radio crackled to life. It was Bob Herrington. “Scot? Scot, do you read me? Over.”

“I read you, Bob,” said Harvath as he swung the lip mic back into place and push-up-style raised himself off the floor and then backed away from Tracy Hastings.

“We heard an explosion. Are you okay?”

“Roger that,” replied Harvath. “Only slightly worse for wear.”

Hastings shot a glance at the makeshift bandage across his back and Harvath ignored her. “What have you got, Bob?”

“They gained access via some ductwork off the elevator shaft and went out via the concealed garage exit.”

Harvath found that hard to believe. “McGahan and his men are on 49th Street. They never would have made it.”

“They didn’t go out 49th Street. They found a service entrance and cut back through the hotel.”

“Where are you now?”

“Right behind them. They’re headed for the Park Avenue exit.”

“Do you have a visual?”

“Negative.”

“How are you following them?”

“You’d be amazed at the stuff they dragged in on their boots from the garage,” replied Herrington.

Gasoline, oil, brake fluid…Harvath could only imagine. God bless Bob Herrington. Urban tracking was an absolute bitch and something Harvath had never been that good at.

Realizing that it was safer to go out the 50th Street stairwell than to slowly creep down the 49th Street side and hope that McGahan and his men would recognize them as friendlies and not jump the gun and open fire on them, Harvath relayed his plan to Herrington.

If they could get to the Park Avenue entrance in time, they might be able to finally put an end to the terrorists’ killing spree once and for all. What they were learning, though, was that things didn’t always go as planned.

WASHINGTON, DC

Gary Lawlor had first boarded the helicopter in DC with no idea what to expect from the NSA interrogation or why Stan Caldwell had invited him along. On a day like today, the deputy director should have been glued to the Strategic Information and Operations Center at FBI headquarters. It made little sense that he would break away to personally conduct an interrogation, even if it was at the behest of the NSA director.

Regardless, Lawlor had kept his mouth shut and had gone along for the ride, hoping that something would come out of it that could help his own investigation and Scot Harvath’s efforts on the ground in New York City. But now that the Schreiber interrogation was complete and Lawlor had nothing more to gain, he wanted answers out of Caldwell.

Once the Sikorsky S76C lifted off, Gary turned to the deputy director and said, “I want to talk about why you asked me to come along on this.”

Stan had known this was coming, and he’d hoped to avoid it by getting on the phone right away and keeping busy with headquarters until they got back to DC. Realizing he was stuck, he turned toward his mentor and said, “I told you. It was a professional courtesy. I thought it might help with your current investigation.”

“Just like the interrogation you threw our way in Manhattan?”

Caldwell nodded his head. “We finally got someone over there, but apparently the guy’s not talking. Did your guy do any better?”

“Don’t change the subject,” said Lawlor. “Why the largess?”

“I told you.”

“Right, professional courtesy. You know, Stan, you always were a bad liar.”

Caldwell smiled. “It still didn’t stop me from inheriting the deputy director position after you left, though, did it?”

“Apparently not. Now, do you want to tell me what’s really going on? No bullshit, Bureau guy to Bureau guy.”

Caldwell would have liked nothing more than to answer that question, but he knew he couldn’t.

“Stan, Americans in Manhattan are actively being slaughtered. We’re talking about government employees along with a significant number of marines. If you know something, anything that might be able to help me put a stop to it, you need to tell me.”

“Let it go, Gary. All four NSA locations have already been hit. Whatever the bad guys came for, they already got.”

Lawlor couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “Let it go? I’ve got a team hot on their trail. I’m not letting anything go. Who are you trying to protect?”

“I’m not protecting anybody. Whatever information your team has compiled, I want it turned over to me. The Bureau is now the lead agency on this, and we’re going to take it from here.”

“Like hell you will. Right now, my people are the best and the only chance we have.”

Caldwell hated to do it, but he looked at his mentor and said, “I’m not asking you, Gary. As deputy director of the lead agency in charge of investigating the New York City attacks, I’m giving you a direct order.”

For a moment, Lawlor was at a loss for words. Finally he said, “I must be scraping a very raw nerve.”

“Just do it, all right?”

“Stan, you realize that when the initial shock wears off and the dust starts to settle in New York, people are going to start calling for blood.”

Caldwell didn’t respond.

“And the loudest cry of all is going to be for the blood of the people who let our country get attacked, again. The 9/11 Commission will look like a joke, compared to the investigation that’ll follow this. And I’ll tell you right now, it’ll have teeth too-big, sharp, shiny ones. The American people won’t let anything get swept under the rug, not this time. No long blacked-out sections to protect ongoing intelligence operations, no political cronyism making sure the most influential asses are covered. Not even the president will be safe on this one.

“They’re going to climb up the Bureau’s ass so far it’ll be sneezing shoe leather. When they get to you, the deputy director, they’re going to look at how you spent every minute up to and after the attacks, including this little joyride out to the NSA. They’re going to want to know exactly what we talked about and I guarantee you I’ll be there to testify. The only question is, what am I going to tell them? And that’s up to you. Either I’m going to say the FBI did everything they could to help apprehend the terrorists, or they let the best chance any of us had slip through their fingers. Can you imagine the repercussions of that? The Bureau would look like the Keystone Kops. It probably would never recover. Congress might even call for shutting it down. Wouldn’t that be something?”

Caldwell stared out the helicopter’s window. He knew Gary was right. It was a possibility the FBI had been privately discussing for some time. There had been whispers about dismantling the Bureau in the wake of the 9/11 fiasco, but they had managed to cut it off at the knees before it gained too much momentum. After what happened today, though, there was no way they’d be able to stop something like that once the wheels were set in motion. The American people were going to want revenge, even if it meant tying an entire government agency to the stake and watching as it was roasted alive. Caldwell couldn’t let that happen.

It seemed ironic that a choice between what was best for one’s government and what was best for one’s country had to be so diametrically opposed, but the deputy director knew what he had to do. And turning away from the window to face Gary Lawlor, he did it, but with one condition.