Brad Thor - The First Commandment

Getting out of Mexico had been Harvath’s greatest concern. But once they were safely away, he traded one concern for another. After Finney’s jet had reached its cruising altitude and passed into U. S. airspace, a phone call came through.

Harvath and Parker listened as Finney chatted with Tom Morgan. He ended the call by telling his intel chief to send everything the Sargasso people had.

Finney then looked over at Harvath and said, “Scot, I’ve got some bad news.”

Harvath’s heart seized in his chest. Was it his mother? Tracy? He didn’t need to ask as Finney picked up a remote, activated the flat-panel monitor at the rear of the cabin, and tuned to one of the cable news programs.

Helicopter footage showed a raging fire with countless emergency vehicles gathered around one of the main buildings of the Utah Olympic Park that Harvath knew all too well. “What’s going on?” he asked.

“Someone placed several pipe bombs packed with ball bearings throughout the U. S. Freestyle Ski Team training area. At least two went off in the locker room while the team was there.”

“Jesus,” replied Parker. “Do they have casualty estimates yet?”

“Morgan’s emailing them now,” said Finney. “But it’s not good. So far they haven’t found any survivors.”

Harvath turned away from the television. He couldn’t watch any more. “What about the coaches?” he asked.

“Morgan’s sending everything he has,” responded Finney as he powered up his laptop and avoided Harvath’s gaze.

Harvath reached out and pulled the laptop away from Finney. “There’s a reason Morgan contacted you with this. What about the coaches?”

“You think this is connected?” asked Parker.

Harvath kept his eyes glued to Finney as he said, “The seventh plague of Egypt was hail mixed with fire.”

Parker was at a loss for what to say.

“Two of the coaches were my teammates,” said Harvath. “They were like family to me. I don’t want to wait for Morgan’s email. I want you to tell me what he said.”

Finney held Harvath’s gaze and replied, “Brian Peterson and Kelly Cook were pronounced dead at the scene along with nine other U. S. Ski Team members.”

Harvath felt as if he had been hit in the chest with a lead pipe. Part of him wanted to scream out Why ? But he knew why. It was about him.

The more pressing question was, when was it going to stop? That, too, had an equally simple answer-when he put a bullet between the eyes of whoever was responsible for all of this.

He regretted losing Palmera. The idiot had run right out into the street and had gotten himself killed.

Not that it made much difference. They could have been there all night. If and when Palmera had cracked, his information wouldn’t have been worth anything, because he obviously wasn’t the man they were after. Someone else on that list was, and Harvath was determined to track him down before he could strike again. But time was obviously running out.

SARGASSO INTELLIGENCE PROGRAM

ELK MOUNTAIN RESORT

MONTROSE, COLORADO

Tom Morgan finished his presentation by playing the CCTV footage from the San Diego Marriott and the Utah Olympic Sports Park in a split screen on a monitor at the front of the Sargasso conference room. “Though we don’t have a shot of his face, the cops found a note with the same message as the other two crime scenes- That which has been taken in blood, can only be answered in blood. Everything here tells me we’re dealing with the same guy.”

Harvath agreed. “Let’s get that footage to both hospitals. Even though we don’t have his face, I’d feel better about my mother and Tracy knowing their security people were keeping an eye peeled for this guy.”

“We’re going to send some of our guys out too,” replied Finney.

“What do you mean?” asked Harvath.

“We’ve handpicked two teams to cover your mom and Tracy,” answered Parker.

Harvath looked at him. “That would cost a fortune. I can’t ask you guys to do that.”

“It’s already done,” replied Finney with a smile. “The sooner you catch the asshole who’s responsible for all of this, the sooner I can bring my guys back and put them on a gig that actually pays.”

“I owe you,” said Harvath.

“Yeah, you do, but we’ll take that up later. For right now, we need to figure out what our next move is going to be.”

It was a word Harvath didn’t want to hear, much less acknowledge. This was not our move, as Finney had put it. It was his move-Harvath’s. He loved Finney and Parker like brothers, but he preferred working alone. He could move faster and there was less to worry about. While Finney and Parker had been a big help to him in Mexico, he couldn’t put them at risk anymore.

He was already struggling under a mountain of guilt. He needed to start compartmentalizing his life-firewalling off everyone he could from danger, and that included Tim Finney and Ron Parker.

Turning to Tom Morgan, Harvath asked, “What do we know about the three remaining names on the list?”

Morgan handed folders to everyone and then opened a file on his computer. The CCTV footage on the monitor disappeared and was replaced with three head-and-shoulder silhouettes, with names and nationalities underneath. “Not much. Scattered intelligence references. A smattering of aliases. Little to no known contacts. What I could find is in the folder. I’m afraid it looks like we’re going to be at the mercy of the Troll for running these three down.”

“Have you put them through our domestic databases?” asked Harvath as he studied the screen and set his folder on the table.

“Yes,” replied Morgan, “but I can’t find any visas, visa applications, airline tickets, or anything else that suggests any of them have recently entered the United States.”

Harvath wasn’t surprised. “This guy isn’t going to leave a trail.”

Morgan nodded.

“Then do you think Mexico was a red herring?” asked Finney.

“I think we wanted Mexico to equal two plus two,” said Harvath, “but it wasn’t that easy.”

“So is the Troll playing us?”

Harvath shook his head. “I think we jumped the gun. We have no idea which way our guy went after he left the San Diego Harbor. He might even have stayed within the U. S. But in our minds, Mexico made the most sense, and when the Troll handed us Palmera, we jumped.”

“So?”

“So maybe we shouldn’t jump anymore.”

“You went with your gut,” clarified Parker. “You didn’t jump. Instinct is part of good investigative technique.”

“Yeah? So is evidence,” replied Harvath.

“Well, this guy doesn’t leave a lot of evidence behind.”

“Let’s face it,” said Finney, “we’re not being left with anything.”

Harvath studied the countries of origin of the remaining three men on their list: Syria, Morocco, and Australia. According to the Troll, one of those men was responsible for three horrific attacks, and there was every reason to believe there’d be more. Since whoever was preying upon the people close to Harvath was tying the attacks to the ten plagues of Egypt, Harvath wondered if maybe the answer lay within the plagues themselves.

Then again, maybe it didn’t. Maybe it all had something to do with Egypt as a country. Still, there was no making sense out of any of it. And what terrified him was that there were six plagues left. Would this nut job combine them as he had with his mother? Or would they each be loosed individually? And behind all of it, what did the president have to do with releasing the four from Gitmo in the first place? Surely a release of this magnitude couldn’t have happened without his knowledge.