Chapter 34

CHAPTER 34

S AINT -J EAN -C AP -F ERRAT

Harvath's plan was to have everyone in place before Eva and Inessa arrived at the restaurant. In his experience, people already seated in a venue attracted a lot less attention than people walking in.

Parked at the bar, he sipped a beer and enjoyed a plate of grilled octopus as he quietly monitored all phases of the operation via his phone.

Just north of Eze, in the harbor of Beaulieu-sur-Mer, Barton had picked up Preisler and the Ukrainian commandos, and had sailed up the coast for Monaco.

Back in Saint-Jean-Cap-Ferrat, Palmer and Ashby had hung around the port until they had seen Tsybulsky and his security detail board his yacht and depart.

Once the vessel had cleared the outer wall of the harbor, Ashby texted Harvath and then she and Palmer walked up to Muse, where they had been able to secure an indoor table. Leaning slightly to his left, Harvath could see them from where he was sitting.

Outside, several doors down from the restaurant, Staelin and Haney sat in the G-Wagon, keeping watch over the entrance. On the stool immediately next to Harvath was Grechko.

Despite the space being the perfect temperature, the Russian defector had a film of perspiration across his brow.

"Here," Harvath said as he handed him a cocktail napkin. "Wipe your forehead. You're sweating."

"Thank you," replied Grechko, taking the napkin. "I must look rather foolish to you. A man of my age, giving up everything for a younger woman who might not want anything to do with him."

"I suppose in a perfect world," Harvath stated as he took another sip of his beer, "when two people need to jump, they jump together. But life isn't always perfect, is it? Sometimes one of those people must have enough trust for both of them and jump first."

The Russian liked the sound of that and nodded in approval. "Well said. Thank you."

"You don't need to thank me. I'm just doing my job."

"You're actually showing human compassion," the Russian remarked. "Technically, you could sit there and not say a word to me and it wouldn't violate the spirit of our agreement."

Harvath chuckled. "I think you give me too much credit. Inessa's security team is going to be armed to the teeth. I don't want to be sitting next to the only guy in a climate-controlled bar who's sweating. Feel free to chalk it up to my healthy self-preservation instinct."

"Fair enough." Grechko smiled. "I know you're not very fond of Russians."

"I don't have a problem with Russians, per se. What I have a problem with is the Russian government and the people who work for it."

"As I no longer work for Moscow, where does that leave me?"

"I don't know yet. We'll have to see."

Raising his wineglass, Grechko clinked it against Harvath's beer. "Here's to seeing where things end up. For all of us."

Several moments passed.

"So," the Russian said, looking to make conversation. "You and S?lvi, eh? How'd that happen? Where'd you meet?"

"Listen," Harvath replied. "A couple of moments ago, when I was nice, and I gave you a little encouragement? Don't make me regret that. Okay?"

"Understood," the man responded, taking another sip of his wine. "She's a beautiful woman. Tough too. And smart as hell. I can see why you're attracted to her. It must be hard, though, living in America with her in Norway. I would think that—"

Harvath raised his hand, ever so slightly off the bar—just enough to get Grechko's attention—and said, "I now officially regret being nice to you."

The man smiled. "You both have a similar sense of humor."

"I'm not joking."

"Fine. What about the dwarf? Tell me about him."

"First," Harvath replied, as his eyes scanned the room, "we don't use that word with him. It's considered an insult in English. He prefers to be called a little person."

"But isn't that his code name? His nom de guerre?"

"Close. People referred to him as the ‘Troll.' Which, technically speaking, isn't much better."

"I apologize for the inaccuracy," said Grechko. "How do you refer to him?"

"He goes by the name Nicholas."

"Like the saint."

"Exactly."

"Interesting," the man replied. "The wonder worker."

Harvath hadn't heard that description before. "Wonder worker?"

"In the Russian Orthodox Church, Saint Nicholas is a sort of supersaint. He's known as a protector—especially of sailors, children, and the poor. He's also known for his generosity. He's renowned for secretly helping poor families by leaving out bags of gold. This is where the Santa Claus story comes from. Many Russian churches are named for him. He's considered a one-stop shop when the faithful need a saint to pray to. From safe travels to healing the sick, he's the guy."

"Interesting," Harvath stated.

"Why do you think your colleague chose this name?" Grechko asked.

Harvath knew why Nicholas had chosen the name, but he sure as hell wasn't going to tell some supposedly "former" Russian intelligence official. Besides, it wasn't his place to reveal it. That kind of personal information belonged to Nicholas. If he wanted to share it with this guy, that was up to him. And so Harvath simply shrugged in response.

"Perhaps it's because Saint Nicholas was such a strong defender of the faith."

"Sure," Harvath stated, laughing to himself. "Let's go with that. Nicholas, Defender of the Faith."

"Are you a churchgoer, Mr. Harvath? Do you believe in God?"

S?lvi had warned him that Grechko was always "on," a perpetual spymaster, constantly probing for information, looking for ways to stick his boot in the door and leverage himself inside people's minds.

"What I believe," said Harvath, "is that certain men leave the intelligence game, but the intelligence game never really leaves them. Know what I mean?"

"Touché," the Russian replied.

Another long pause ensued before Grechko asked, "You're positive that she'll be here tonight?"

Harvath nodded, taking a bite of his octopus.

"But how do you know? Did you talk to her?"

"A little bird told me," he responded.

As soon as he said the words, Muse's front door swung open and a hardened security team ushered in a glamorous, exceptionally attractive Russian woman.

As she passed, Eva Nekrasova pretended not to notice Harvath while also throwing him a discreet wink.