Chapter 13

CHAPTER 13

The details of the assault were brutal. The knowledge that Martin, a man Harvath had known, had been ripped in half by one of the explosions was gut-wrenching. Every part of the attack was terrible. It had been an absolute bloodbath.

Once they had each shared their version of events, Harvath had walked them back through, probing for even the smallest of details. Nothing in a situation like this was ever inconsequential. The smallest clue could have the biggest of impacts, but only if it was surfaced and brought to light.

Unfortunately, what S?lvi and Grechko remembered were the explosions, the fire, the smoke, and the gunshots. These were the strongest, most overwhelming elements of the nightmare they had just been through.

To her credit, S?lvi could also remember some of the details about the assaulters and their equipment. It was all top-of-the-line gear. The men themselves were disciplined and well trained. Rappelling in through broken windows suggested an advanced military or special police unit background. Not carrying phones or ID further suggested the attackers were professionals. In the end, these were not a handful of thugs rounded up at a local biker bar.

The exceedingly indiscriminate use of force, coupled with the audacity of an attack in broad daylight, also told him something. Subtlety was not their calling card. The entire operation had "Russia" written all over it. It had probably been planned and carried out by a team of Russian Special Forces Spetsnaz soldiers.

Regardless of who the assaulters were, there was no question in Harvath's mind as to what their objective had been— Grechko. But was their assignment to kill or to capture him? As far as Harvath was concerned, the answer was probably either.

Detonating high-grade explosives outside the curtained windows of the safehouse meant they could not know who would be killed or injured inside. The van waiting down in the parking garage, while providing exfiltration for the attackers, could have also been used to spirit Grechko away. If the assaulters could have taken him alive and interrogated him, it would have allowed Moscow to learn how much top-secret information he had already revealed to Norwegian Intelligence.

Which brought Harvath to the next piece of this entire debacle—how the hell had they found the safehouse?

It was a discussion he didn't want to have in front of Grechko. Grabbing a blanket, they left the Russian inside and walked out onto the deck, where Harvath poured them each a glass of wine.

"I have no idea how they found us," said S?lvi, after taking a long sip and closing her eyes for a moment. "The only answer is that we must have a leak somewhere."

"How many people knew about the safehouse?"

"To be honest, I don't know the exact number."

"Approximately," Harvath replied. "Five people? Fifteen? Twenty?"

"We rotated two security teams on and off, so that's twelve people right there. The safehouse is paid for out of a secret budget, which less than five people at Norwegian Intelligence have access to. Weapons and vehicles needed to be approved, but that doesn't involve the location of the safehouse."

"Anyone else?"

"I'm not the first person at NIS to have used that safehouse. Others knew about it, but its existence was classified."

"As was Grechko's defection," Harvath stated.

S?lvi nodded. "I used a special tactical team to handle it. From the moment he drove up to our border, we had eyes on him. We even had one of our people in the booth, assessing him. He was followed and surveilled all the way to the rendezvous. Not until we were completely sure that it wasn't some sort of Russian trick did we make contact."

"And then what?"

"Straight to the airfield and, after guaranteeing he was clean of any hidden electronic devices, we brought him back to Oslo via private jet."

"That's it?"

"That's it," she replied, taking another sip of wine, before asking, "How did you know we had him?"

"Holidae didn't say."

"Did you ask her?"

Harvath nodded. "All she said was that the intelligence was solid."

"It would appear that both the Russians and the Americans each have at least one spy inside the Norwegian Intelligence Service. That's not good."

"No, it's not. What do you want to do?"

"I want to do my job and complete Grechko's debrief."

"Here?" Harvath asked.

"Why not?"

"Because by now, the NIS already knows you and Grechko are missing. They are going to stop at nothing to find you. That means interviewing your friends and colleagues, several of whom spent time with us here over the summer. I give it twenty-four hours tops before someone is sent to check out the cottage."

"Damn it," S?lvi muttered in frustration.

Harvath tried to reassure her. "You've got a protocol, right? A PACE plan. Primary, alternate, contingency, emergency order of communications?"

She looked at him. "There is no protocol, no PACE plan when your agency has been compromised. I have no idea who I can trust."

"I hear you. But none of this is your fault, okay?"

"This was my assignment. I'm responsible. For everything. "

"Shit happens. Sometimes it can be really bad. Missions go sideways. You were a soldier. You know that. Even if you did fuck up somewhere, none of that matters now. You got Grechko out of there, you're both alive, and you've bought yourself a little breathing room. Those are wins. Big wins. Take them. Keep trusting your instincts. That's all that matters."

S?lvi didn't know how to respond. After another sip of wine, she glanced over her shoulder, back inside the cottage. Against the light from the fire, she could make out Grechko's silhouette.

"He's one of the highest-ranking defectors we've ever had. With what he knows, we'll be able to set parts of Russian intelligence back decades, if not longer. But that won't happen if I can't keep him alive. And right now, I don't know if I can do that in Norway. Not alone. Not by myself."

"Then it's a good thing you're not alone," said Harvath, swirling the wine in his glass and taking a drink.

Grechko was a massive get for the Norwegians and, by extension, for NATO and all its allied partners. He wasn't going to let S?lvi fail.

In fact, he had already begun formulating possible next steps in his mind. That was who he was. When he saw a problem, he charged right after it and fixed it. Or he smashed it into so many little pieces that it wasn't a problem anymore. But S?lvi's approach was different.

She was more measured, more of a tactician. If she had to, she could apply brute force to a problem. Before that, however, she methodically ran through each and every scenario—sifting, weighing, and then rejecting whatever didn't give her the highest possible chance for success. It was one of the biggest reasons he thought she would turn out to be a better spy than he was. She had figured out how to weaponize both her intelligence and her patience.

As they sat quietly together in the crisp evening air, the scent of wood smoke curled from the chimney and hovered over the deck. Harvath, ever the mariner, tilted his head back and tried to identify the first stars in the night sky. From somewhere off in the trees, a pair of tawny owls called back and forth to each other as they readied to hunt.

"I know what I want to do," S?lvi suddenly said, breaking the silence between them. "I want to make a deal."

"With whom?" he asked.

"Holidae Hayes."

The response took him by surprise. Of all the potential scenarios he had been running through his mind, that was definitely not one of them.

He looked at her. "Are you sure?"

"I'm positive," she replied, pulling the blanket off and standing up. "But first, I need a favor. I want you to speak with Grechko."

"Grechko? Why?"

"Because we'll need his buy-in. And for that to happen, he's going to have to trust you."