Chapter 48

CHAPTER 48

E ZE

W EDNESDAY

The fastest high-speed train from Nice to Paris made the journey in about five and a half hours. A private jet could do it in forty-four minutes. Harvath had chosen the jet.

After some additional back-and-forth with Grechko, he had gotten Holidae Hayes on a secure call and gave her the rundown of everything he wanted. This wasn't going to be a CIA op. It wasn't, technically, even going to be a Carlton Group operation. This was a personal undertaking, but he couldn't do it without the quiet help of both organizations.

Once Hayes had confirmed his list of requests, he disconnected the call, dragged himself up to his room, and fell into bed with S?lvi.

The next morning, after checking his emails, he came downstairs to find Nicholas and Preisler cooking breakfast. Someone must have made a run to the village because there were all sorts of fresh baked goods. With a notebook tucked under his arm and a pencil behind his ear, Harvath said good morning to everyone, grabbed a cup of coffee, and stepped out onto the terrace.

Haney and Staelin, their own coffee cups in hand, were sitting at the glass table and he joined them.

"You should have stuck around last night," said Staelin. "Once we got back, we opened several more bottles of champagne."

"I appreciate you guys driving the Ukrainians back to the airport," he replied. "Sorry I didn't stay up to celebrate."

"You missed out," Haney added. "Did you know there's a tabac down in the village that sells Cubans? Johnson bought two boxes."

"You deserve it. The op was very well done." Then, changing the subject, he asked, "What's the latest from Ashby and Palmer? How are things down in Saint-Jean-Cap-Ferrat?"

"They sat on Tsybulsky's estate until just before dawn. After the news broke about the boat being blown up, security was increased on the house, a couple more guys were added at the gate, but that was it."

"And this morning?"

"Gage and Morrison went down to relieve them. Doesn't look like anything has changed. According to Nicholas, the private jet back to Russia hasn't been canceled."

That didn't surprise Harvath. Tsybulsky's security guys were likely in serious disarray. With their client missing and presumed dead, next steps would be difficult to manage. Unless they had reliable law enforcement sources within Monaco, which they probably didn't, the only information flowing their direction was what they could pull from the internet. Hopefully, Inessa had done as Grechko had instructed and had dug in her heels and was refusing to even consider leaving France under the circumstances.

Pulling out his phone, Harvath sent Eva a text, asking her to update him with any information regarding Inessa. Then he turned his attention back to his teammates.

"As long as Inessa plays her cards right, she'll be fine."

Staelin took a sip of his coffee and asked, "What about S?lvi? Any clue when she and Grechko are going to be able to go back to Norway?"

Harvath shook his head. "NIS gave her an ultimatum. They want her back ASAP. She's not ready to do that, though. Not until they've nailed the mole inside her organization. For now, she's going to remain off the radar."

"That seems like a smart move," stated Haney. "Does that mean we're staying? Because I can think of worse places to have to be a babysitter."

"It's up to you," Harvath replied, flipping open his notebook and taking the pencil from behind his ear. "I've got one more job. The CIA's station chief up in Paris is offering me some of his guys, but I don't want his guys. I want my guys."

"What's the job?" asked Staelin.

"One of the Russians responsible for Lara's death managed to get away and—"

"I'm in," the man said, not even waiting for Harvath to finish his sentence.

"Me too," said Haney.

This was one of the biggest reasons why Harvath did what he did. The loyalty of his teammates meant the world to him. All they needed to know was that he was going after one of his wife's killers. That was it. They didn't need to know where, or how many of the enemy would be there when they arrived. Harvath was going and so would they.

Stepping out of the villa carrying plates of food, Preisler and Johnson walked over to the table and set them down.

"What are we talking about?" asked Preisler.

"Harvath's got a lead on an additional person involved in Lara's murder," said Haney.

Johnson looked at him. "When do we leave?"

"I'm with Johnson," Preisler stated. "I'll meet you all in the driveway. I just need to grab my gear."

"Thank you," Harvath said as a sea of painful, bittersweet, and vengeful emotions churned inside him. "For the record, that was the right answer."

His teammates smiled. A couple laughed. They knew him well. Without a sense of humor, they'd all be lost.

As they ate their breakfast, Harvath jotted down a few notes. Taking these four with him to Paris, he'd be leaving five more behind to help guard the villa—Gage, Barton, Morrison, Ashby, and Palmer. Nicholas and the dogs would also stay behind, as would S?lvi and Grechko.

He didn't like cutting the team in half. If anything happened to any one of them, he wouldn't forgive himself. And if anything happened to S?lvi, he knew that would be a pain he'd be unable to bear.

But while all that was true, he also knew that he couldn't allow anyone involved in Lara's murder to go unpunished. His joke about sending Johnson had been just that—a joke. There was only one person who could, and rightfully should, settle this score.

After finishing breakfast, he gathered his things together and went to say goodbye to S?lvi.

Grateful for all that had been done, Grechko had agreed to start their debrief early, which was why she had been out of bed before Harvath. He was loath to interrupt, but she had left him a note asking him to come find her before he left.

He knocked on the debriefing room door and waited in the basement hallway for her to step out.

"Hey," she said, closing the door behind her and wrapping her arms around him. "You were out cold when I woke up. How did you sleep?"

"I slept well, but not nearly long enough," he replied, giving her a kiss.

"Getting ready to leave?"

"The guys are packing up now. We're going to take two of the cars. Barton and Gage are driving and will bring them back."

"Who's going up to Paris with you?" she asked.

Harvath rattled off the names.

S?lvi smiled. "You're taking the A-team with you."

"All ten of us are the A-team and I'm leaving you with five. You're in good hands. Don't worry."

"Listen, I've been thinking about something."

There was something about her tone that suggested maybe he didn't want to hear this. "Do we need to talk about it now, or can it wait?"

"I want to cancel the wedding."

"What?"

"After this is all over, I want as little drama as possible. Let's just elope. Bali. Barbados. Buenos Aires. I don't care. You pick the spot. How does that sound?"

To be honest, it sounded fantastic, but it wasn't a decision he wanted to make under duress. "I am one hundred percent open to the idea," he replied. "Let's talk about it when I get back."

"You promise?"

"That I'm coming back," he teased, "or that we'll talk about it?"

"Both."

He gave her another kiss. "I promise."

They stood in the hallway for a few more moments, holding each other. Finally, they broke off their hug.

"Do what you need to do," she said. "I'll be waiting for you."

Giving her one last kiss, Harvath went back upstairs, picked up his bag, and rallied his teammates.

He wanted this operation done with as soon as possible. It was a chapter from his life that needed to be welded shut. Once it was, he would be able to move on.

As much as he wasn't looking forward to it, however, there was one consolation: he intended to fully vent his rage. He wasn't going to stop until he had purged every last ounce of anger from his body. Consider it highly kinetic therapy.

Harvath was going to make this as painful for the Russians as possible.