Brad Thor - Path Of The Assassin

Morrell finally recovered and gave the “Go” command for the teams to move out. Harvath pushed the door all the way open and, crouching low, ran across the gravel-covered roof, followed by the rest of Bravo Team. He dropped noiselessly onto the top of the heavy Jetway and ran forward as the SAS man inside began maneuvering it closer to the plane.

Before Harvath got all the way to the end, a hail of gunfire erupted from the cockpit and the Jetway stopped moving. He and the rest of the team were sitting ducks. Harvath hit the deck and prepared to return fire, but even with the NODs on, couldn’t see anyone through the foil-covered windows of the cockpit. There was no telling if the hijackers were holding any flight crew in there with them. Harvath didn’t want to risk killing one of the pilots.

Morrell called frantically over the radio to get the Jetway moving again, but his man below was not responding. One of the Alpha operatives reported from below the plane that the Jetway’s navigation station had been riddled with bullets and it looked like they had a man down.

Once again, the first thing that came to Morrell’s lips was, “Fuck!”

This party was going ugly early. It was obvious to Harvath that Morrell was quickly coming to the end of his command ability, and there was no way he was going sit with his ass hanging out in the wind on top of the Jetway waiting for Hashim Nidal or one of his guys to pick them all off. It was time to take control.

Harvath activated his throat mike and called over the radio to the Delta sniper team. “Tick Tock One, Tick Tock One, this is Bravo Team, do you copy?”

“Roger that, Bravo. This is Tick Tock One. We copy,” came the voice of Bullet Bob.

“I’ve got a VUP in the cockpit, but he may have flight crew with him. I need you to pin him down. Throw some of that heavy lead in there nice and high.”

“Roger that, Bravo Team. ‘Very unfriendly person’ in the cockpit, possible friendlies present. I’ll see what I can do to pin him down. Tick Tock One out.”

Harvath next radioed the SAS sniper team to take out the plane’s auxiliary power unit mounted in the 747’s rear fuselage. His hope was that it would disrupt power within the plane and shut off the interior lights.

“Who the fuck is this?” demanded the CIA sniper.

“This is Norseman,” replied Harvath, “now take out that APU!”

“I don’t take orders from you, Harvath.”

“Do it now!” broke in the voice of Morrell, who must have finally found his balls rolling around somewhere on top of the Jetway. Next, he focused his attention on Harvath, “We need to get somebody down to that navigation station and get the Jetway up against the plane.”

“No time,” answered Harvath, who crawled past Morrell and back up the Jetway.

“Harvath! Harvath! What the fuck are you doing?” hissed Morrell.

Scot ignored him and kept crawling until he was alongside the team’s designated demolition man, none other than the operative he had elbowed in the mouth in Jerusalem.

“Give me your demo sack,” said Harvath as he reached for it.

“What the hell for?” he asked, pulling the bag out of Harvath’s grasp.

“I’ve got a plane to catch. Hurry up.”

“No way. That’s not the plan,” responded the man.

Harvath hated it when people refused to cooperate, especially disagreeable people. “So much for team spirit,” he said as he pinned the man’s hand in a sophisticated joint lock, quickly retrieved the demo sack, and slung it over his back along with his MP5. As Harvath was sliding his gloved hands through the specially designed fittings of the black polymer climbing cups, Rick Morrell crawled over.

“What the hell’s going on here?” he asked.

“Beats me,” said Harvath.

“I don’t know what you’re up to, Harvath, but-”

“What we’re up to is making a jump for that plane.”

“Are you crazy?” responded Morrell. “There’s no way we’ll make it. It’s too far away. I’ll get one of the Alpha Team guys up to get us closer.”

“There’s no time. We go now.”

“Bullshit. We go when I say, and I say we get the Jetway closer!”

“Sorry. No can do,” said Harvath as he got up and took off running down the Jetway.

He bounded down the roof of the Jetway and ran as hard as he could while Bullet Bob tore up the hijacked 747’s cockpit with half-inch rounds. At the very end of the Jetway, Harvath pushed off with all his might and flung himself out into space toward the big bird.

When he hit, he hit hard, but true to all the propaganda from Fretwell Industries, the suction cups didn’t fail and he was now adhered to the aluminum skin of the plane. Using the grip and release buttons on the sides of the suction-cup handles, he quickly pulled himself up to the top of the plane. It was similar to the hull climbing he had learned in his SEAL days, only a lot drier. Once atop the plane, instead of turning left and heading toward the bubble, he turned right and ran toward the tail.

Morrell’s voice could be heard immediately through his earpiece. “Harvath! What the hell are you doing? The plan was to make for the bubble and breach there.”

“That was the old plan,” replied Scot. “Now we’re going to do things the way they should be done.”

“Harvath, you’ve gone too far-”

“So have the Egyptians. From what I can see from up here, it’s only a matter of minutes before they arrive, and they’ve got a head start on the Delta boys. Do you want them doing the takedown or us?”

“Us, of course,” replied Morrell.

“Good. Then we do it my way,” replied Harvath as he reached the tail-end section of the airplane and fished the ribbon charge from the demo sack. From what he had memorized about the 747-400’s layout, he knew he was above an open area in economy class with four lavatories and no passenger seating.

“Okay, we do it your way, but I want you to know I am not happy about this,” said Morrell.

“And I am? Just instruct Alpha Team of the change and to wait for my signal.”

“Will do. Hold a sec-”

“What’s up?” asked Harvath.

“It looks like Tick Tock Two knocked out the APU. Behind the window shades the plane has gone totally dark.”

“Perfect. I’m framing my hatch. Have Alpha get ready to blow the belly.”

“On your mark.”

Harvath thought about what his next move was going to be. Every single terrorist between the tail end of the plane and business class was going to be his responsibility once he blew his hole and jumped inside. He pulled what he always referred to as “Man’s best friend,” the roll of duct tape he never traveled without, from his pocket and pulled up the suction-cup devices sitting next to him. Wrapping the tape beneath the handles and around his legs, he quickly secured the devices to the back of his calves. Harvath activated the cups to “grip” and then radioed Morrell. “This is Norseman.”

“Roger, Norseman,” came Morrell’s voice.

“Is Alpha Team on line?”

“Roger that,” came the voice of Alpha Team’s leader.

“We go on my mark. In three…two…one…Now!”

Harvath’s explosion kicked in first, followed by a devastating concussion from the bottom of the aircraft. He pulled out two flash-bang grenades from his hip pouch, jumped across the gaping wound in the plane’s skin, and slammed the suction cups around his calves against the exterior aluminum. With his legs secure, he readied his MP5, chucked the flash bangs into the plane, and swung into the hole headfirst.

He was hanging by his legs with his head pointing toward the floor, so everything he saw was upside down, but a properly tuned laser sight on an MP5 never lied. He took out two hijackers at the rear of the plane, and as two more, about fifteen rows up, began shooting, he nailed them as well.