Brad Thor - The First Commandment

As Harvath approached the wall of open windows that led out over the water, the Troll stopped dead in his tracks. “What are you doing?”

“I’m getting us the hell out of here. Get moving.”

The Troll twisted free of his grasp and retreated backward into the house.

“You’re going to get us killed. What the hell is wrong with you?”

The Troll glanced at the fire engulfing the kitchen, its flames now high enough to lick at the roof. As he turned back to Harvath he said, “I can’t swim.”

Harvath was about to tell him he had no choice, when all the lights in the house went out. He knew that whoever had started the job with that helicopter was about to storm the house to make sure it was finished.

Hoping the sound of the idling helicopter would cover their entry into the water, Harvath wrapped his arm around the dwarf’s waist and jumped.

They swam for as long as Harvath could beneath the water before coming up for air. The Troll was terrified and sucked in rapid gasps of air when they broke the surface. Harvath spun him onto his back to help keep his head above water and dragged him in a swimmer’s carry through the bay.

They swam parallel to the shore as the Troll kept an iron two-handed grip on his waterproof laptop. He was incredibly strong for his size. Had he put up any more of a struggle, Harvath very likely would have had to head butt the man to keep him from drowning them both.

Once they were a safe distance from the house, Harvath changed direction and brought them in to shore. As his feet touched the beach the Troll fell over onto his hands and knees and began retching up the cups of seawater he had swallowed during their short swim.

Harvath ignored him. Removing his dry bag, he pulled out his night vision goggles and powered them up.

As he finished heaving, the Troll wiped his mouth on his soaked shirtsleeve and said, “Where are you going?”

Harvath double-checked his pistol and said, “Back to the house.”

“But I’ve got a speedboat at the dock on the end of the island.”

“And they’ve got a helicopter. Helicopter beats boat every time.”

The Troll knew he was right. “So what do we do?” he asked.

Ever since they had escaped from the house, Harvath’s mind had been preoccupied with who was behind the attack. Were they here for him or had they come for the Troll?

It seemed highly unlikely that Morrell and his Omega Team had tracked him all the way to Brazil. But even if they had, this kind of assault was complete overkill, even by Morrell’s standards.

The more Harvath thought about it, the more he realized that whoever these people were, they had most likely come for the Troll. The little man’s list of enemies was long and distinguished. There were any number of governments that would have gladly seen him killed, including America ’s. And on top of that, the dwarf had worked both for and against some the world’s most powerful people and organizations.

The only thing Harvath could count on was that underestimating the attacker would be done at his own peril. “We need to split them up so we can thin them out,” he said.

“Split them up how?” asked the Troll.

“Where are the keys to the boat?”

“In a cup holder next to the front passenger seat.”

Harvath quickly explained what he wanted him to do. When the Troll nodded, Harvath turned and headed back toward the house.

As he moved, he prayed to God his plan would work.

Harvath ran up the beach to the point where the Troll’s house jutted out over the water. It was much closer than Harvath wanted to come, but he had very little choice.

Sliding into the water, he glanced at his Kobold and made a note of how much time he had left.

Pulling the cups of his night vision goggles over his eyes, Harvath swam until he was right beneath the glass floor of the living room. He could hear a chorus of orders being shouted by men’s voices up above, but none of them were in English. Every word was in Arabic.

Whoever these men were, they were not here for Harvath. They were here for the Troll. Unfortunately for them, today was going to prove to be a very unlucky day.

Positioning himself with a clear line of fire through several of the broken panes of glass above, Harvath raised his Beretta and waited. When one of the men came into view, it took all of his training not to pull the trigger. Once a second man joined his comrade, Harvath squeezed off two rounds in rapid succession and dropped them both.

He didn’t wait to see what the reaction would be. Diving beneath the water’s surface, Harvath swam twice as far as he had with the Troll and didn’t come up for air until his lungs were seared by a burning thirst for oxygen.

Slowly bringing his head above the waterline, Harvath reappeared a safe distance away and took in deep breaths of air. He watched as the burning house was illuminated by even brighter flashes of gunfire delivered by the two dead men’s colleagues through the glass floor at an opponent who had already fled.

Harvath swam for the beach on the far side of the house. Hitting the sand, he wrung the water out of his clothes and made his way toward the main building. The Blackhawk Warrior Wear boots he was wearing had been designed by a former Navy SEAL and were almost completely dry within the first several yards. It was a good thing, as he was going to have to move quickly and the last thing he needed was to be dragging two water-logged cinder blocks around his feet.

Traversing the beach, Harvath made it to the narrow strip of vegetation near the entryway to the house. Lying on his stomach, he used his elbows to pull himself forward. The first thing he noticed when he got within range of the house were the dogs.

They had taken shelter in a culvert beneath a nearby raised out-building. Judging from the signs of forced entry, the interior most likely contained the generator used to power the main house.

As Harvath crept forward, he heard the dogs begin to growl. He knew they were in no shape to attack, but the sound was enough to raise the hairs on the back of his neck.

He judged the distance from the main house, which was going to burn the rest of the way to the ground in less than an hour, and decided the dogs would be safe. A large water storage tank with a hose stood nearby.

Leaving the cover of the vegetation, Harvath shot out and quickly unwound the hose. He turned the spigot ever so slightly and then placed the hose near the dogs so they could have access to additional fresh water.

He thought briefly about restarting the generator as a distraction, but all that would have done was call attention to his position. Any psychological advantage would have been very short-lived, and there was not much time left.

Harvath swung around, flanking the house, and got himself into position halfway to the helipad.

He looked down at his watch and observed the final seconds tick away.

Once they did, there was a roar from the other end of the island as the Troll fired up the speedboat and cast away from the dock

Immediately, Harvath saw two men race out of the burning house. They pounded down the footpath, and when they hit the blind curve two meters from his position, he took a breath and pulled the trigger of his weapon twice in rapid succession.

Two cracks erupted from his Beretta and the men were felled, each by a perfect head shot.

Harvath scrambled from his hiding spot and pulled their bodies off the trail into the underbrush. They were carrying 9mm silenced Ukrainian Goblin submachine guns.

Harvath pulled a Goblin from one of the dead men, along with two spare magazines, and rushed toward the house. He had no idea whether the others could have heard his shots over the roar of the fire, but when the helicopter failed to lift off, the remaining men on the ground were going to get suspicious.