Brad Thor - Blowback

FRANCE

Harvath was in his room scanning the reference book Vanessa Whitcomb had allowed him to take with him, Greek Fire,Poison Arrows amp; Scorpion Bombs-Biological and Chemical Warfare in the Ancient World by Adrienne Mayor, when Marie Lavoine knocked on his door and told him he had a phone call. It could have only been one of two people, and whoever it was had either come up empty or had information that would throw some light on what direction he should take next.

Harvath took the call in Marie’s office. “Harvath, “He said as he picked the receiver up off the desk.

“Scot, it’s Kevin McCauliff.”

“That was fast, Kevin, “He replied, looking at his watch. It had only been a couple of hours.

“Well, lucky for you, my guy here in Chantilly is friendly with someone at Spot’s headquarters in Toulouse.”

“What were you able to find?”

“Just like you said, your guy Bernard Lavoine did order a lot of imagery from Spot. The dates from the credit card transactions helped them locate the stuff a lot faster.”

“Good. What did they give you?”

McCauliff toggled through the images on his monitor and said, “All of the imagery your missing person ordered was for an area around Mount Viso and a pass just north of it called the Col de la Traversette. The search was pretty broad in the beginning, but became progressively more focused.”

“What was he looking for?”

“That I can’t tell you,” replied McCauliff, “but I can tell you that money didn’t seem to be an object for this guy. He ordered every kind of test you could imagine-surface spectral reflectance data, temperature data, emissivity data-you name it and this guy bought it. I’m sure there’s some sales rep at Spot who was sorry to lose him as a customer.”

Not as sorry as Marie Lavoine was to lose him as a husband, thought Harvath. “What about the last purchases?”

“All scene-specific.”

“Meaning?”

“Meaning your missing person had picked a specific spot and was using satellites to drill down on it as hard as he could. After that, there were no more orders,” said McCauliff. “Whatever Bernard Lavoine was looking for, I think he might have found it.”

“I owe you one, Kevin.”

“Technically,” said the NGA operative, “I owed you one, but there is something you can do for me. My sister is going to be in DC for a conference in April, and I want you to take her to a real nice dinner. It’ll be the highlight of her trip. But we’re just talking dinner here, that’s all.”

“You got it. Now, can you get me copies of those last images along with any data that goes with them?”

“Already done. All I need is an e-mail address and I can send them off to you right now.”

Harvath gave McCauliff one of the remote e-mail addresses he used while on the road and thanked the man again for his help.

As he hung up the phone, Jillian walked into the office. “Marie said you got a phone call. What’s happening?”

“We were able to track down the final satellite imagery Bernard and Ellyson were working off of. It looks like you and I are going climbing.”

After using the computer and printer of Marie Lavoine’s neighbor to download the satellite information, Harvath spent forty-five minutes in Bernard’s equipment room putting together what he thought they would need for their climb. Though most of the hotel’s guests normally brought their own gear, the Lavoines had been well prepared for those who hadn’t. Harvath was able to find not only boots, but also Helly Hansen jackets and pants made from heavy wind-stopper fabric that fit him and Jillian perfectly.

With the pieces of numbered masking tape stuck to the top of the worn kitchen table, Harvath spread out several of Bernard’s maps along with their newly acquired satellite imagery. Suddenly, they had a much clearer picture of where Ellyson had focused his search. Harvath had no idea what he and Jillian would find when they got there, but he couldn’t help wondering if the search and rescue teams would have been able to save Bernard and the rest of his party if they had had the information that was now sitting in front of him. For some reason, he doubted it. Something told him, just as it had Marie Lavoine, that the disappearance of Bernard and the rest of his party had not been any accident.

As it was at least a two-hour hike to get up to the Col de la Traversette, Harvath quickly divided up their gear. He gave Jillian the lighter items like the flares, food, and first aid kit for her to carry in a KIVA technical pack, and he took one of Bernard’s larger internal-frame backpacks to hold everything else.

Marie tried to convince Harvath to postpone the trip for at least a day or two until some of the other local mountain guides, who had been friends of Bernard, were available to go along with them. Harvath would have appreciated their participation, but he couldn’t afford to wait. Besides, the time he spent attached to the Navy’s cold warfare specialists, SEAL Team Two, had made him an experienced enough climber, and he was confident he could teach Jillian anything she needed to know along the way. If they ran across a feature that they couldn’t tackle, they would just have to turn around and come back.

On the surface it looked good, made sense, and sounded safe, but in the back of his mind, Harvath knew that a million fatal expeditions had started out with the same false sense of security. There was no room for excessive pride in climbing, because there was no more imposing foe than an unforgiving mountain that didn’t care if you lived or died.

The climb to the Traversette was steep, dangerous, and extremely difficult. Both Harvath and Alcott lost their footing several times. The debris-strewn moraine was covered with sharp rocks and jagged pieces of shale. Off in the distance, they could make out the towering peak of Mount Viso. Its craggy, snow-covered face was made even more menacing by the thickening curtain of heavy clouds gathering around it. Harvath knew that the weather was something they were going to have to contend with. Marie had given them an update on the forecast before they left, and the gods were not smiling on their venture. All they could hope for was to be able to move fast enough to beat the storm.

By the time they made it to the pass, their bodies were wrung out. They were above the snowline now, but neither of them cared as they unslung their packs and looked for a place to lie down. Harvath reached for one of his bottles of water and drained it in three long swallows. Dehydration was one of the most common consequences of altitude. He looked down at his gloves, the palms of which were shredded, as were Jillian’s. He removed a roll of duct tape from his pack, repaired his gloves as best he could, and then threw the roll to Alcott.

Once Jillian’s gloves were patched, the pair shouldered their packs and continued upward. In retrospect, the jagged rocks and loose pieces of shale were a cakewalk in comparison to what they now faced. As the pass wound its way around the north side of Mount Viso, the winds picked up dramatically and the snow they were walking upon quickly turned to ice. Once again, they stopped, and as Jillian ate some of the food Marie had packed for them, Harvath removed two sets of crampons from his bag. Once he was sure that both his and Alcott’s were securely attached to their boots, they started walking again.

Harvath chose his steps very carefully. They were on a narrow precipice with the sheer wall of the mountain rising immediately to their right and a fathomless drop, easily thousands of feet, immediately to their left. Very quickly, Harvath gained a new appreciation for how Hannibal could have lost more men and pack animals on this high Alpine pass than at any other point in his campaign.