Brad Thor - The First Commandment

He wanted to check on his mother and Tracy, but it was too risky. If the CIA was looking for him, they’d be watching for calls that came in to either of the hospitals. Instead, he dialed the outside access number for his BlackBerry’s voicemail system to check for messages.

There were several from Gary Lawlor. Having just spoken with him, Harvath deleted them. The only other message was from Ron Parker. He was urging Harvath to call as soon as possible and left a different number than usual to contact him.

Harvath punched the digits into the phone and waited. The quality of the ringing changed halfway through and it sounded as if the call was being routed. Harvath started to grow uneasy. If the CIA had used Tim Finney’s pilots as well as Rick Morrell against him who might be next?

Realizing that any CIA interference would be virtually undetectable, he decided against hanging up. A moment later, Parker answered.

“Are you someplace safe?” he said.

“Safe enough for now,” replied Harvath. “Is this line secure?”

“Our mutual fly-fishing friend set it up. As long as we stay away from specifics, I think we’ll be okay.”

Harvath knew immediately what Parker was talking about. Tom Morgan had set up the communication link and the need to stay away from specifics was because as good as Morgan was, the CIA and NSA were better. If they wanted Harvath bad enough, which apparently they did, the CIA and NSA could have programmed the Echelon eavesdropping system to monitor all calls for certain keywords relating to Harvath and what he was embroiled in.

Therefore, Harvath needed to choose his words very carefully. “Did you know about the change of plans on my trip home?”

“Not until after you had already deplaned. If we had known, we would have told you.”

Harvath knew Parker well enough to know that he was telling him the truth. “How’d they find out?”

“They learned about our little trip south of the border. But not until you were already on your way back from overseas. How’d everything work out?”

“It was quite enlightening. Apparently our little buddy has not been completely forthcoming.”

“About what?” asked Parker.

“His list was light by one name.”

“Do you think it was a mistake?”

Harvath laughed. “Not a chance. He knew what he was doing. We just need to find out why.”

There was a long pause before Parker responded. “We need to talk.”

Those four words had never meant anything good when uttered to him by a woman, and Harvath felt even less confident about their being anything but a prelude to bad news right now. “What’s up?” he asked.

“All of our contracts have been canceled,” said Parker.

“ Canceled? What are you talking about?”

“We received calls from our special clients back east and they all invoked the same cancellation clause. No discussion, no explanation.”

Harvath didn’t know what to say. The contracts for Site Six and the Sargasso Program were their bread and butter. They represented a tremendous amount of money. “I guess that’s the big boys’ subtle way of telling you that I’m persona non grata.”

“Actually,” replied Parker. “It wasn’t so subtle. One of the larger dogs in the five-sided kennel called to let us know that all of the contracts could be immediately reinstated.”

“If you only agreed to sever all ties with me.”

“Pretty much.”

Harvath didn’t like having put his friends in this position. They’d already done more than enough for him. With the Pentagon offering them a way out, Harvath decided he’d make it easy on them. “Thank your boss for everything and tell him to consider all contact between us severed.”

“You can thank him yourself. He told them all to go to hell.”

That was very much like Finney. With all the betrayals Harvath had suffered lately, it was nice to know he still had some real, true friends, which was all the more reason not to let Finney devastate the business he’d worked so hard to build and so loved operating. “He’s a charmer. He’ll bring them around.”

“What about you?”

“I’m going to finish what these people started,” said Harvath.

“They can cancel our contracts, but they can’t stop us from helping you.”

“Yes, they can. The contracts are only the tip of the iceberg. The pressure only gets more intense as your heads get pushed beneath the water. You guys don’t want that. You’ve already helped me a ton and I’m grateful for it.”

Parker didn’t like being cut out of the loop any more than Harvath. “So we won’t actively do anything else unless you ask us. The babysitters will remain in place, though, and that’s not an item open for discussion.”

Harvath smiled. “I appreciate that.” It was good to know that Tracy and his mother would continue to be looked after.

“If you change your mind about additional help,” continued Parker, “you’ve got my number. In the meantime, I’ve got a couple of housekeeping items for you. They’re not much, but they should help sharpen your focus a bit. I’ll drop them off shortly.”

“Thanks,” replied Harvath, who knew that Parker was referring to the internet-based electronic dead drop they had developed in case they needed to communicate while Harvath was away from Elk Mountain. Considering recent developments, he was glad they’d established it.

“Anything else we can do?” asked Parker.

“There is one thing,” replied Harvath.

“Name it.”

“I need you guys to help me arrange a tee time.”

BETHESDA, MARYLAND

The Congressional Country Club was one of the most exclusive country clubs in the nation. Opened in 1924, its Blue and Gold courses had been later redesigned by Rees Jones, with the Blue course repeatedly named one of the country’s hundred best.

The course was a challenging tableau of rolling green hills and tall trees. It embodied the best characteristics of the world’s finest courses and was the only thing demanding enough to take James Vaile’s mind off the crap that went along with his job as director of the Central Intelligence Agency.

He had a standing Sunday tee time, which he kept even more religiously than Sunday services at Holy Trinity in Georgetown. It was like therapy, and he truly believed it was one of the few things that kept him both sane and civilized in an undoubtedly insane and uncivilized world.

The Congressional Country Club was the playground of Washington ’s elected aristocracy, and Vaile found it invigorating to be treading the same links that William Howard Taft, Woodrow Wilson, Warren G. Harding, Calvin Coolidge, Herbert Hoover, and Dwight D. Eisenhower had.

The eighteenth hole of the Blue course was normally Vaile’s favorite. The view from the tee alone was incredible, as it looked toward the rear of one of the most majestic and imposing clubhouses in the world.

The drive itself took all the concentration Vaile could muster. From the elevated box, it was 190 yards over water. If you were lucky, your ball landed on the peninsulalike green and rolled to the edge of the cup, or better yet straight in.

Today, lady luck was not smiling on the DCI. Still upset over the ass-chewing he’d received from the president and having serious doubts about whether his people would be able to recapture Harvath, Vaile airmailed his first shot well over the green. He still couldn’t believe that Rutledge thought he might have had a hand in the deaths of the Maryland ME and his investigator girlfriend. Though the accident was certainly convenient, neither Vaile nor any of his agents had anything to do with it. The idiot had just blown through a red light.