Brad Thor - Blowback

Alcott decided to head up to the store’s Fifth Floor Café for something to eat before she began her shopping. Finding a small table for two, she placed her belongings on the opposite chair and sat down. The rain pounded against the glass roof and ran down the windows at the front of the café in white foamy sheets that made it appear as if she was sitting behind a waterfall. As a streak of lightning ripped through the sky, followed by a booming peal of thunder, Alcott decided she wanted a glass of wine.

Forty-five minutes later, the storm was still raging as Jillian paid for her meal. Despite the two glasses of Pinot Gris she had consumed, she couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something bad out there with her name on it. Blaming her unease on the storm, she got up from her table and decided that it was time to do a little shopping.

Taking the escalators to the third floor to browse through the lingerie section, she felt a chill along the back of her long, slender neck. She was even more frightened than before and didn’t know why.

As she moved through the lingerie department, her feelings of impending doom came to a crescendo and finally made sense as a powerfully built man grabbed her urgently by the arm and said, ”Come with me if you want to live.”

What are you doing?” demanded Alcott as she was muscled toward the back of the department.

“Saving your life,” replied Scot Harvath as he kept her moving toward one of the green emergency exit signs.

Alcott tried to twist out of his grasp. “You’re hurting me. Let me go.”

“Someone has been following you since you left the Abbey College.”

She had wanted to blame her unease on the storm, but on a more primal level Jillian had sensed all afternoon that something wasn’t right. It was as if she had felt someone’s eyes on her. But the only way this man could have known she was being followed was if he had been following her as well. “Who are you?”

“That’s not important right now,” said Harvath as he increased their pace.

“If you don’t stop this, I’m going to scream. Do you hear me?”

“You scream and we’re both dead.”

Alcott was about to show him she was serious when she felt something hard pressed into her back. Without even seeing it, she instinctively knew what it was-a gun. “Why are you doing this?”

“Over your shoulder, by the elevator.”

Alcott looked. “What about it?”

“The tall man standing next to it. Do you see him? Dark hair. Dark skin.”

“Yes, why?”

“He’s been sent here to kill you,” responded Harvath as he turned Jillian back around and continued to maneuver her toward the door marked Emergency Exit.

Alcott was just about to tell this man one last time that he was insane and to unhand her when she heard gunshots and all of the mannequins around them began exploding. “Get down,” yelled her captor, knocking her to the ground as they were showered with pieces of flesh-colored fiberglass.

As Alcott started to scream, Harvath counted to three and rolled off her, coming up on one knee with the compact eleven-shot,. 40-caliber Beretta Mini Cougar Type D pistol that had been waiting for him when he arrived in London. As good an agent, and a friend, as Nick Kampos was, arranging weapons for Harvath in foreign countries was something even he couldn’t do. For that, Harvath reluctantly had to call on Ozan Kalachka and ask him for a favor. A favor the man was only too happy and able to arrange.

Catching sight of their assailant, Harvath began firing.

The unsilenced weapon bucked in his hand as Harvath let loose with a deafening three-round volley. The store was in complete pandemonium, with shoppers screaming and running for their lives. Keeping low while he expertly weaved his way through the racks of clothing and display stands, the attacker was less than twenty yards away and closing fast. Harvath desperately wanted to get off another round of shots, but there were too many people in his way.

“We’ve got to get out of here now, “He said as he maneuvered back over to Alcott.

Jillian wanted to respond; she wanted to say something, but the words caught in her throat. Her heart was thudding against her chest so hard she thought for certain it would burst.

“Do you see that exit sign back there?” asked Harvath as he helped her up into a crouch.

Alcott had trouble responding, and Harvath realized that she must be in shock. Grabbing her chin, he turned her head in the right direction and asked her again if she saw the sign.

This time, Jillian nodded.

“Good. When I say go, I want you to run as fast as you can to that door. I’m going to be right behind you and-”

“Who are you?” she managed.

“That’s not important,” replied Harvath. “We’ve got to get out of here. Now, when I say go, we’re going to make a run for that emergency exit door. Do you understand?”

Jillian nodded her head.

“Okay, get ready. One, two, three, go!” yelled Harvath as he pushed Alcott forward and laid down a wide swath of cover fire behind them, careful to avoid hitting any of the fleeing shoppers. When they arrived at the emergency exit door, Harvath kicked it open and pulled Jillian in behind him. They ran down a narrow service corridor until they found the emergency stairwell and then began bounding down the stairs two at a time. Alcott’s legs seemed to be moving entirely of their own accord, her will tied to the sheer force of the man in front of her.

Instead of descending all the way to the ground floor and out some side door, as she assumed they would, they instead exited the fire stairs on the first floor and cut across the length of the store to the other side. Finding another staircase, Harvath led the way down to the ground floor, where he spirited Alcott through the perfume section and straight out the front door with the rest of the panicked shoppers.

Harvath quickly scanned the street through the torrential downpour and saw that not only were all of the buses packed, but so were the taxis. The Tube was an option, but they couldn’t get on it here. Not at Knightsbridge. It was only a matter of time before Khalid Alomari realized he’d been tricked and doubled back to look for them. They had to get out of the area as quickly as possible.

Tightening his grip around Alcott’s arm, Harvath steered her away from the department store and down the sidewalk. Without her trusty Burberry umbrella, which she had lost somewhere in the lingerie department along with her briefcase, Alcott had nothing to keep her dry. Growing colder, wetter, and more scared by the moment, she tried to think of something to say-something that would cut through all of this insanity. “Please, let me go.”

Harvath wasn’t listening. He was only concerned with putting as much distance between them and Alomari as possible, and right now that meant they had to keep moving forward-together.

Harvath was in no condition to tackle the highly skilled assassin. He was running on empty, summoning up reserves of energy and recycled adrenaline he knew he was going to pay dearly for in the very near future. All he wanted to do was lie down and sleep for a week, but right now, sleep was not an option. Knowing that a very deadly disease could be unleashed upon America at any time was all the inspiration Harvath needed to increase his pace.

As they got closer to the South Kensington Tube station, Harvath realized he still had no idea where they were going. He hadn’t thought that far ahead. They couldn’t aimlessly wander London all night. They needed an end point, a destination. “We need to find a place where we can get out of the rain, “He said more for his own benefit than hers. “A place where we can talk. Quietly.”