Brad Thor - Blowback

With all of the different soldiers standing guard, landing at the King Fahad Air Base reminded Harvath of arriving with the president aboard Air Force One at Andrews Air Force Base in Maryland.

The early morning air was cool and markedly different from Riyadh as they descended the Citation X’s stairs. Jillian had worked through the night, analyzing her samples and conferring with the Whitcombs and other USAMRIID personnel back at Fort Detrick. Concurrent with their discussions, teams of FBI and Hazmat agents, warrants in hand, were busy raiding the warehouse of Kaseem Najjar, as well as the cash-heavy businesses owned by every name on the list Chip Reynolds had discovered in Prince Hamal’s Riyadh warehouse. Anything and everything that was suspect was placed into airtight containers and transported back to Fort Detrick for further analysis.

Based on the brain tissue samples from Hannibal’s elite guard, the Whitcombs had been able to confirm what Alan had suspected-rabies was indeed a prime component of the illness, and the elite guard had been inoculated against it. But inoculation against rabies alone only increased resistance to the illness-it didn’t make people one hundred percent immune. This information explained why one of the victims strapped to the ceiling of the Provincial Ministry of Police building in Asalaam-a former veterinarian-was still alive when the Stryker Brigade Combat Team arrived. Another part was still missing from the puzzle.

Hoping to buy time, USAMRIID and the CDC had ordered all first responders to be treated with hyperimmune antirabies serum. The Herculean effort to collect enough doses and have them shipped around the country as quickly as possible was now under way.

In the meantime, Harvath had held a lengthy phone conversation with Gary Lawlor. In the belief that standard rabies vaccine had just bought them more time, Lawlor officially bifurcated Harvath’s assignment. Not only was he to do everything he could to uncover both the source and any possible cure for the illness, but he had been additionally instructed to do whatever was necessary to prevent the assassination of the Wahhabi leadership, which all the political minds back in DC agreed would plunge Saudi Arabia into an all-out revolution.

For years, American military and intelligence strategists had been preparing for the possibility of a coup in Saudi Arabia. If the Royal Family was overthrown, a full-blown military operation, codenamed Sandstorm, would go into immediate effect. The plan called for mobilizing U.S. armed forces to slice the eastern Saudi province of al-Hasa off from the rest of the country and place it under American control, thereby preventing the Wahhabi extremists from occupying the world’s largest proven oil reserves. At this point, though, there was just one problem. The intense summer heat made it nearly impossible to fight in full chem-bio combat gear. Until they were inoculated, neither the U.S. nor any of its allies could fully field enough troops to put Operation Sandstorm into effect.

There was also one other problem. Though it had never been proven and was much debated after the Iraq WMD intelligence fiasco, Washington was well aware that Saudi Arabia had pumped over a billion dollars into Pakistan ’s nuclear program. Despite repeated denials by the Saudis, there were many who were willing to stake their careers on their belief that in exchange for their generous contributions to Pakistani scientific advancement, the Saudis received one or more nuclear weapons.

Though Gary Lawlor was reluctant to heap more upon Harvath, he had no choice. Equally as important as getting to the bottom of halting the illness was preventing the Royal House of Saud from losing its grip on power.

Not knowing who might be plotting against the kingdom from the inside, Lawlor was afraid to reach out to anyone in the local diplomatic or intelligence food chain on Harvath’s behalf. It was common knowledge that the office of the Saudi Crown Prince leaked worse than a sieve, so a direct call from the president was out of the question. Finding someone they could trust and who would cooperate with them to get Harvath inside would take time, and time was something they were very quickly running out of. Harvath, though, had an idea and knew someone who might be able to make it happen and make it happen fast-Chip Reynolds.

Coached by Harvath on exactly what to say, Reynolds had played the best card at his disposal. Following Harvath’s script word-for-word, Reynolds contacted one of the few honest men he knew in the Crown Prince’s court-a man he hoped wasn’t involved with any attempts at overthrowing the al-Sauds-and told him that he needed an immediate audience. With the seriousness of the summit looming over them, the advisor was reluctant to even broach the subject with the Crown Prince, but with Harvath signaling for him to keep going, Reynolds pressed on.

If there was one thing the Arabs were good about rewarding, it was loyalty. Reynolds had not only saved the life of a member of the Royal Family, but had also been an excellent head of security for Aramco. If the ex-CIA man really had information about a threat against the Crown Prince’s life, then the advisor had no other choice but to make sure he was heard.

Reynolds hated using a lie to gain access to the prince, but he knew it would be the only way they would get a meeting. Eliciting a promise from the advisor not to mention the plot to anyone but the Crown Prince himself, Reynolds hung up the phone and waited with Harvath for what seemed like an eternity for a response from At’Taif. When the call finally came, Reynolds was told that the Crown Prince was willing to see him and the two witnesses he sought to bring along who had “firsthand” knowledge of the plot.

Now, as the trio was bundled into one of Abdullah’s heavily armored Suburbans and driven toward his summer palace, Harvath prayed not only that Abdullah would believe them, but that he would agree to turn over one of the most highly visible and highly volatile members of the Royal Family.

Shit,” mumbled Reynolds as the Crown Prince and several other men entered the reception hall.

Based on the pictures Reynolds had pulled from the hidden flash memory drive back at his house, Harvath had been busy studying the face of every SANG soldier in the room and hadn’t paid much attention to the other men on their way in. “What is it?”

“Second guy from the end. That’s Prince Aziz, minister of state intelligence.”

“Faruq’s boss?”

Reynolds nodded his head and was silent until the men approached. “Your Highness, “He said, with a slight bow, reaching out to shake Abdullah’s hand once it was offered. “Thank you for taking time out of your very important schedule to see us on such short notice.”

A courteous smile appeared on the prince’s face and he politely tipped his head.

“With your permission, Your Highness,” continued Reynolds. “I would like to introduce Mr. Scot Harvath and Dr. Jillian Alcott.”

The prince nodded politely at Jillian and then as he extended his hand toward Harvath, said, “You look very familiar to me. Have we met before?”

“Your Highness has a very good memory. I used to be part of President Rutledge’s security detail.”

Abdullah smiled and grasped Harvath’s hand warmly. “I knew it. I never forget a face. Now, “He said as he turned toward Reynolds, “what is this all about?”

“Your Highness,” interrupted Harvath, “you’ll forgive me, but I think we should do this in a private setting with the least amount of people as possible.”

“Understood,” replied Abdullah, who then issued a string of orders to the men standing behind him.

Accompanied only by his defense minister and the minister of intelligence, the Crown Prince showed his visitors into a wood-paneled study.