Brad Thor - The First Commandment

“That’s why the president wanted me sidelined.”

Morrell put his hand on his friend’s shoulder. “He didn’t want you sidelined, he had no choice. You’ve put him in a very difficult position.”

“So what? He wouldn’t even fill me in on who he supposedly has hunting this guy down.”

“Would it have made a difference? Would the president’s personnel decisions have convinced you to sit by while this nut job was targeting your friends and family?”

Harvath didn’t know how to answer that question. Finally he said, “Probably not.”

“Scot, the president knows you were in Mexico when Palmera was killed.”

“How would he know that?”

“The CIA has CCTV footage of you at the airport in Querétaro. They traced the plane you used. They also know who the plane belongs to. That’s how we figured out you were on your way back from Amman.”

Harvath’s heart sank. If he was going down, he certainly didn’t want to drag people along with him, especially not decent, patriotic Americans like Tim Finney and Ron Parker. “The guys at Elk Mountain didn’t know anything about this.”

“You and I both know that’s bullshit,” replied Morrell. “They’re on the CCTV footage with you. The only thing working in your favor is that witnesses claim Palmera ran into the street and was hit by the cab. As far as they’re concerned, it was most likely a cartel thing. Whether the terrorists who helped arrange his release from Gitmo believe that is another story.”

“Where’s that leave us, then?”

“I need to know what happened in Amman. Why were you there? Who did you meet with?”

Harvath shook his head, no.

“Scot, listen to me. The Palmera thing can be made to look like he got mixed up with some bad people from his old life. It’s only one death, and while suspicious, it’s nothing definitive. Two deaths and we’re in big trouble and the shit is most definitely going to hit the fan.

“We have no idea how many school buses these people could potentially target. The only hope we have of avoiding more attacks is to manage this situation from out front. We can’t do that unless you give us what we need. What happened in Amman?”

“If the president had been up front about all of this from the start I could have-”

“Scot, what happened?”

“Abdel Salam Najib is dead. His handler too.”

“Shit,” cursed Morrell.

“What did you expect? What did anybody expect? The lives of the people I care about are at stake here. I couldn’t just sit back and do nothing.”

Rick Morrell stood up and headed for the door.

“Wait a second!” said Harvath. “That’s it? I thought you were going to help me.”

“I did help you,” said Morrell as he kept walking. “The president said dead or alive. You’re alive.”

Though he was still alive, Harvath realized he’d also been duped into revealing what had happened in Jordan. With two of the detainees dead, there was no way they were going to let him go now.

What he did next was rash, poorly thought out, and just plain stupid, but considering the circumstances he found himself in, it was probably the only move Harvath could make.

Morrell was almost at the door when Harvath slammed his sledgehammer of a fist into the base of the man’s skull.

Morrell’s knees buckled as he lost consciousness and Harvath eased him gently to the floor. He then glanced down at his watch.

Was Morrell telling the truth about the servers’ being offline for fifteen minutes? If he wasn’t, the other Omega Team members would be rushing to the room at this very moment. He counted to five. Nothing happened.

Morrell had at least been telling the truth about the cameras, which meant that Harvath now had less than two minutes to get out of the house unseen.

He grabbed his now ex-friend’s keys, unholstered his Taser, and rapped twice against the door.

Harvath heard the heavy footfalls of the guard on the other side followed by the sliding of the deadbolt as he unlocked the door. He raised the Taser and prepared to fire.

As the door swung open, the guard exposed himself and Harvath squeezed the trigger. The barbed probes embedded themselves in his chest and he was given the electric bull’s ride for five. He fell forward into the room, and after rolling him quickly onto his back, Harvath landed a series of brutal punches to the man’s face and head that rendered him unconscious.

He stripped the guard of his.45 caliber Glock, his keys, a walkie-talkie, and a Benchmade tactical folding knife.

Unlike the Taser Harvath had used in Mexico, this one had a spare cartridge in the grip, and Harvath quickly reloaded the weapon. While these men had been authorized to kill him, they were first and foremost Americans who were doing the job they’d been sent to do. Harvath didn’t want to kill any of them if he didn’t have to.

Harvath stepped cautiously into the hallway. He could hear voices coming from the main part of the cottage, which made his decision to go in the opposite direction even easier.

As he crept closer to the end of the hallway, he could hear a television set. It was accompanied by an irregular whirring sound and an occasional thwack. Harvath had no idea what he was hearing until he neared the room and heard a shout.

Peering around the doorway, his hopes for a clean getaway tanked. Two Omega Team members were playing foosball on one of the rattiest-looking tables Harvath had ever seen. Just past them was a doorway that led to the outside world and beyond it, freedom. The one problem was that Harvath had only a single shot remaining in the Taser.

He had to think of something fast. His time was almost up. Sneaking a quick peek around the corner again, he took in as much of the room as possible and seared the image into his brain.

Both of the men were armed, but Harvath had surprise on his side. He could buttonhook into the room with his Glock drawn and tell them to hit the floor, but there was no guarantee that they would comply. If they called his bluff, he’d be in a very difficult position. He had no desire to shoot them, not even to secure his freedom, but he’d do it if he had to. He could kneecap both of them, but the sound of gunfire would bring the other team members and then he’d really be in trouble. Having shot first, he would undoubtedly be targeted as an active threat that needed to be neutralized. Harvath could very well be signing his own death certificate.

The key was getting out with as little noise and drawing as little attention as possible.

Another shout erupted from the foosball game, and Harvath chanced a third look around the corner. Another goal had been scored, and the man who’d been scored upon was readying to serve the ball. The man opposite him had both his hands upon his metal rods ready for action. It was then that Harvath noticed that most of the handles on the ancient table were missing. The two Omega Team members were gripping bare metal.

Harvath waited for the ball to be served. When the man reached for his other bare rod, Harvath raised the Taser sideways, swung fully into the room and squeezed the trigger.

He embedded a probe into each of the men who had their meaty, sweaty hands on the metal poles and let the fifty thousand volts of electricity fly. It was a nasty and unexpected zap, which took the men completely by surprise. Harvath followed up by “drive stunning” the weapon into each of them, completing the circuit and incapacitating the last obstacle that stood in the way of his escape.

Harvath didn’t bother trying to knock the men out. He made a beeline for the door and let himself outside as quickly as possible.