Brad Thor - Path Of The Assassin

There was also a road sign. Harvath now knew where Adara Nidal was headed. Eliporto di Capri-Capri Heliport.

Before the taxi had even come to a complete stop at the gate of the heliport, Harvath was already out and running. The roar of the powerful Eurocopter AS365 Dauphin was deafening as it quickly lifted off. Through the Plexiglas window of its plush nine-passenger-capacity cabin, Harvath thought he could see Adara smiling at him, but he couldn’t be sure. The navy blue bird with its gold logos was flying directly west, into the sun.

The one thing Harvath did know was that he had seen that helicopter before. He had seen it in Ari Schoen’s surveillance photos sitting on the helipad of Marcel Hamdi’s megayacht, the Belle Étoile.

When Harvath and Meg returned to Anacapri, they headed right for the Capri Palace. Past a cascading fountain surrounded by votive candles, they entered the luxuriously appointed, snow-white lobby and headed left toward the bar.

Heavy columns throughout the room supported a multiarched ceiling and created a multitude of private sitting areas. A short mahogany bar with four stools stood alone in a far corner, while a brace of dark wooden ceiling fans quietly stirred the air overhead. White couches and loveseats were scattered throughout, fronted by thick, low-slung mahogany tables. Lamps, their shades festooned with delicate gold tassels, added to the air of elegance.

Harvath and Meg proceeded past a large grand piano and out onto the flower-filled terrace. After they found a table, a waiter quickly appeared to take their drink orders. An evening cocktail at one’s hotel was a tradition on Capri, and as Scot and Meg settled in to wait for the man who had been seen dining with Adara Nidal, their only hope was that he would actually show up.

The sun began its slow descent into the ocean, casting a glow of burnt orange over the Capri Palace’s terrace. Large white candles, nestled in sand and set in large glass hurricane lamps, were lit and placed strategically around the terrace. The waiters began setting up a buffet table, and when Meg asked them what they were preparing for, one of the waiters explained that it was the manager’s weekly cocktail party for hotel guests. Harvath began to think that their luck might be changing.

As the slow parade of guests began to file out onto the terrace, their man appeared. He was wearing a white linen suit with a pink-and-white-checked shirt. His hair was perfectly coifed, his goatee neatly trimmed, and it was obvious from the way he carried himself that he had no self-esteem issues.

“Is that him?” asked Meg quietly.

“He certainly fits the description,” said Harvath as he discreetly eyeballed the man. “You know what to do.”

Meg slinked across the terrace and got into line right behind the man at the buffet. As he picked up a complimentary glass of champagne and a few canapés, he noticed the attractive blond behind him, and that’s when Meg began to make small talk. “What a beautiful sunset this evening. Don’t you think?”

“Very lovely,” he answered. As Meg reached for a canapé, the man noticed she wasn’t wearing a wedding ring. “Are you staying at the hotel? I don’t think we’ve met. I’m Neal Harris.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Harris. Where’s your lady friend this evening?” asked Meg, offering neither her name nor her hand.

“My lady friend?”

“Oh, don’t play coy with me,” said Meg flirtatiously. “We’ve all seen you and that goddess with those incredible eyes.”

“Yes, that goddess” said Harris, glad that people had noticed him and the woman. “She does have the most beautiful eyes. Actually, I was hoping she’d already be here. I haven’t seen her since this afternoon.”

“Well, so much the better. You can join me for a drink while you wait for her.”

“I’d be honored,” replied Harris. “But I didn’t catch your-”

“Outstanding. I have a delightful friend that you absolutely have to meet,” said Meg as she latched on to Harris’s elbow and steered him over to where Scot Harvath was sitting.

“Neal Harris,” said Meg, “I’d like you to meet my friend, Scot. Scot, meet Neal Harris.”

Harris offered his hand to Harvath and waited for him to rise. Harvath stayed seated.

“Oh, you’ll have to excuse Scot,” said Meg. “He has a bit of a problem.”

“Oh, really?” said Harris, waiting for Meg to sit and then taking the empty chair next to Harvath. “And what might that be?”

Harvath had secreted his Browning beneath a linen napkin on his lap and now raised it just enough for Harris to see. “I have developed a real dislike for terrorist collaborators, Mr. Harris.”

“Terrorist collaborators?” cried Harris, seeing the gun.

“Keep your voice down,” whispered Harvath in order to heighten the intimidation factor, “or I swear I’ll kill you right here.”

“What the hell is going on?” said Harris, careful to keep his voice down.

“What’s going on,” replied Harvath, “is that you are in a lot of trouble, my friend.”

“First, I am not your friend. And second, I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Well, let’s start with a very leggy, attractive brunette with rather strange eyes that you’ve been seen about the island with over the last couple of days.”

“Who? Penny? I hardly know her.”

“She told you her name was, Penny?”

“Short for Penelope. She’s British. From England.”

Meg shot Harvath a look.

“What was her last name?” demanded Harvath, jerking the Browning for added effect.

“Stratton. Her name was Penelope Stratton. Now what is this all about?”

“Your girlfriend is one very serious character,” said Harvath.

“She’s not my girlfriend. I just met her a couple of days ago. Is she somebody’s wife? Is that it? I had no idea. Honestly. She came on to me.”

“Please. You expect us to believe that?” said Meg.

“Yes! It’s the truth,” pleaded Harris.

“Why would she come on to a guy like you?” asked Harvath.

“It’s not my fault women like me.”

“Meg?” asked Harvath. “You like this guy? You find him attractive?”

“I have no idea what she saw in him,” answered Meg.

“Listen, Harris,” continued Harvath, “I’m going to give you one chance to get yourself out of this mess.”

“Mess? What mess? I have no idea what’s going on.”

“Whether you do, or you don’t, I don’t really care. Either way, if I don’t feel I’m getting complete and total cooperation from you, I’m going to shoot you in the head and drop your body in a shallow grave. Are you going to cooperate?”

“Of course, I will. She was great in bed, but-” said Harris, pausing as both Harvath’s and Meg’s eyebrows went up. “I mean she was a lovely diversion for the couple of days we were together, but I don’t owe her anything. As a matter of fact, screw her! I’m with you two. Especially this gentleman with the gun.”

“Spoken like a true romantic,” said Harvath, lowering the Browning.

Harvath knew that there wasn’t a chance in hell Adara Nidal was going to return to the Capri Palace. She knew they were on to her and most likely she wouldn’t even return to Capri. What they did have going for them was that, for once, they had surprised her. According to Harris, Adara-or Penny, as he continually referred to her-was planning to check out soon. She had said that she was about to change the world, but Harris said he thought she had some business deal cooking and was speaking metaphorically. Not only did he have no idea where she was going, he had absolutely no idea how literally she had been speaking.