Brad Thor - The First Commandment

Why the hell was this going on? Why, when he was finally getting his life together, was someone trying to rip it apart?

It was a good question and one that he’d asked himself many times since Tracy ’s shooting.

Out of everything Harvath had mastered in his life, relationships with women wasn’t one of them. For a long time, he blamed his occupation and the demands his career placed on him. But when he met Tracy, he swore he wouldn’t let his job be an excuse for another failed relationship.

He also blamed his commitment phobia on the stress his father’s career had placed on his mother. In truth, though, they’d had an excellent marriage in spite of his dangerous profession and the all-too-frequent occasions when he had to disappear for weeks, sometimes even months at a time.

Finally, one night as Tracy lay sleeping next to him, Harvath looked deep inside himself for a reason-the real reason he had used to push every good woman who had ever come into his life away from him.

He saw the face of Meg Cassidy hover before his mind’s eye. As with Tracy, they had met under extraordinary circumstances. In Meg’s case it had been a hijacking. Afterward, they’d been assigned to an incredibly difficult operation. For all intents and purposes they should have been perfect together- maybe even as perfect as he and Tracy were. But things just hadn’t worked out. She was an incredible woman and someone Harvath regretted deeply having lost.

Nonetheless, it was an odd image to fixate on. Meg had moved on with her life. She had met someone new and was going to marry him soon.

His mind then went to a very dark corner that he usually worked hard to stay away from. He was in the right place. He knew it by the gut-wrenching feeling he experienced as he began to explore one of the darkest days of his life.

It was his second assignment with SEAL Team Two. They’d been sent into Finland in the middle of one of the worst winters on record. The blinding wind-driven snow made it nearly impossible to see or hear anything. His team split up into pairs as they closed in on their target.

Somehow, the men they were hunting had turned the tables and had snuck up on them from behind. How they knew that the SEAL team was there, Harvath never could determine.

By the time the confrontation was over, he had taken a round through the shoulder and his dead teammate had taken one through the head.

Though he managed to take out all the shooters, he found little satisfaction in it. The guilt he carried was immense. His teammate had a wife and two little kids.

Harvath had insisted that he be the one to inform the man’s wife. Though she’d been a good, strong Navy spouse, the look on her face when she got the news broke Harvath’s heart wide open. He vowed to never cause another wife that kind of pain ever again.

For years Harvath thought that meant making sure all of his men came back alive. It was a noble goal, but in their line of work people sometimes died. It was the biggest downside to what they did for a living. It was also one of the reasons that Harvath preferred working alone whenever he could.

Lying there next to Tracy, Harvath had finally understood why he’d pushed all the good women from his life. And at that moment he made a new vow to himself. If Tracy turned out to be the one for him, he would never let her go.

Harvath’s chain of thought was broken as the BlackBerry at his hip vibrated with an incoming call. “Harvath,” he said as he raised the device to his ear.

“Scot, it’s Ron Parker. We’ve got something you should see.”

“What is it?”

“How quickly can you get over to the San Diego Marriott?”

“The one on the bay?” asked Harvath as he looked at his mother. The doctors had told him that though she was stable, they planned on keeping her sedated for at least the rest of the evening. “Probably about fifteen minutes. Why?”

“You’ll see when you get there. One of my contacts from the SDPD will be waiting for you. Ask for Detective Gold.”

In the dead of night, the San Diego Marriott Hotel amp; Marina was an eerily beautiful composition of metal and curving glass. The slashes of red and blue from the strobes atop the various police vehicles parked at its base only added to its dramatic façade.

After having to flash his creds and get in the face of a rather obstinate patrol officer who didn’t want to let him by, Harvath eventually found the detective named Gold. For some reason, Parker had failed to mention the detective’s first name, which was Alison. Not that Harvath had any problem with female detectives, it just seemed an odd detail to leave out.

Knowing Ron as well as he did, Harvath figured Gold had been a guest at Valhalla and that she and Parker had probably had some sort of affair. Not mentioning that she was a woman was probably Ron’s way of trying too hard to paint her as a competent cop and one whom Harvath could trust. It wasn’t necessary. The fact that Gold was all right with Parker made her all right with Harvath. Very quickly, the tall, attractive redhead, whom Harvath placed somewhere in her late thirties, proved that she was very worthy of both Parker’s and Harvath’s respect.

After introducing herself and apologizing for the patrol officer, Alison Gold led Harvath to a windowless, white Chevy Express cargo van. The rear doors were open and inside a team of specialists from the department’s Forensic Science Field Services Unit was collecting evidence.

“According to a witness who was walking her dogs near your mother’s home shortly before the attack, there was a white commercial van parked on the street. We’ve already found magnetic signs in the van that come pretty close to matching the witness’s description of the lettering she saw.”

Gold rapped on the side of the van to get the attention of one of the techs and had him show Harvath what she was talking about. “Anyone who saw the van would assume your mother had a pipe burst or something and that it was being repaired. Coronado police have already checked with all of the Servpro franchises in the area, and none of them had any requests for service even remotely near your mother’s home.”

Harvath wasn’t surprised. “And the van?”

“It was rented from a fleet leasing company in Los Angeles. We’re checking into that now, but don’t expect to come up with much.”

Harvath didn’t either.

“As far as prints and fibers, the vehicle is cleaner than clean. The Coronado PD hasn’t found anything in her house either.”

“And I doubt they will,” replied Harvath.

“Why is that?” asked Gold.

“This guy’s a professional.”

The detective raised her eyebrows in response.

“I don’t know how much Ron told you, but a friend of mine was shot outside my home in D. C. a few days ago, and we believe it’s the same person who attacked my mother,” said Harvath.

“Yeah, Ron explained that much. He also told me not to ask what you did to piss somebody off so bad that he’d attacked people you know on both coasts.”

Harvath looked at her, but didn’t say anything.

“That’s okay,” replied Gold, acknowledging his silence. “I’ve been to Elk Mountain. I understand.”

She didn’t know the half of what went on there, but Harvath let it slide. Parker was every bit the patriot Finney was and would never spill items of national security just to create engaging pillow talk. Changing the subject, Harvath asked, “How’d you find the van?”

“Based on our witness’s description, we rolled back the footage from the cameras on the bridge. We saw the van going over and coming back from Coronado. Using our traffic cams, we were able to track the vehicle here.”