Chapter 64

CHAPTER 64

P ARIS

From the beginning, Powell had been the Achilles' heel in Harvath's plan. No matter how many ways he came at the problem, he couldn't find a better way to solve it. The station chief was necessary to flush Elovik out into the open, but he absolutely couldn't be trusted.

One wrong word, one wrong facial expression, and the CIA man could torpedo the entire operation. If tipped off that something was wrong, Elovik would rabbit. He wouldn't just walk, he'd run away—and it would be a very long time before they could get him to show his face outside the embassy again. That meant the meeting in the café was critical. But how could they guarantee that Powell would live up to his end of the bargain?

In a perfect world, Harvath would be sitting right next to him, sticking a gun in his ribs. This, however, wasn't that world. Elovik was expecting Powell to be alone.

The next-best scenario was to have someone at a nearby table, also with a gun, who could see and hear everything that was going on. But, as he was a known commodity to the Russians, Harvath automatically ruled himself out. Even if he could have come up with some sort of passable disguise, there simply wasn't enough time. That left either Staelin or Preisler.

Either man could have handled the job, but Preisler, who was of Danish descent and had spent loads of time visiting family in Europe whiling away hours in local cafés, was his first choice. And though Staelin, who came from solid Teutonic stock and would have easily blended in, was no stranger to European culture, his expertise would be make-or-break at the clinic.

Once all the roles were established, the ground rules were then explained to Powell. When everything was over, Harvath was going to let him walk. The contents of his safe, minus the Beretta, would be returned to him and he could keep any and all bank accounts he had established. It was agreed that in exchange for his life, he would drop off the grid and never be heard from again.

If he didn't comply with the terms of the agreement, Harvath would hunt him down and there wouldn't be any negotiating the next time. He would kill the station chief on the spot.

Harvath also made it clear that if the CIA man did anything to spook or warn Elovik, that if for any reason the Russian military attaché abandoned their meeting, it would be grounds for his immediate termination. To emphasize the point, Harvath told Powell to look down at his chest.

The station chief was sitting outside Café Apate, at the same table Harvath had been. Preisler, who was sitting nearby, had handed Powell his phone so that Harvath could provide the CIA man with a final recitation of the ground rules.

Upon being instructed to look at his chest, Powell glanced down and saw a tiny red dot hovering over his heart.

"Just know," said Harvath, who was now perched behind Haney's rifle in the fifth-floor window across the street, "that I'll be watching you too. Don't do anything stupid."

With that, Harvath turned off the laser and disconnected the call.

Taped next to the window was the range card Preisler had drawn up. In addition to the distance to the café table, it listed several others Harvath had thought might be useful once he was situated in the team's makeshift overwatch position. Having a general knowledge of how far away a target was made for better accuracy. Shooting in a civilian area was incredibly dangerous. If he had to take a shot, he wanted to make sure that as much guesswork as possible had been removed. The only blood he wanted to see spilled was Russian blood. And of course, Powell's, if the station chief stepped out of line.

With twenty minutes left until Elovik was expected to arrive, Harvath did a final walk-through with Staelin.

Between the two of them, and their knowledge of chemistry, they had been able to scrounge multiple ingredients inside the clinic and hastily prepare several improvised devices.

Considering what the Russians were likely to throw at them, anything that might slow down their assault and help even the odds was more than welcome. In this situation, neither the Marquess of Queensberry nor the Geneva Convention applied.

After conducting a check of their weapons, comms, and other essential equipment, there was nothing else to do except wait. The Russians were going to have to come to them.

Five minutes later, Harvath received a text from Preisler. A vehicle resembling the Russian embassy cars they'd encountered in the Bois de Boulogne had just made its second pass of the café. Inside were four men in suits.

Back behind Haney's rifle, Harvath had seen it too, though he hadn't been able to distinguish anything about its occupants.

Looks like our guys, Preisler texted. Possibly an advance team.

Roger that, Harvath replied. Stay frosty.

A couple of minutes later, one hour on the dot since Harvath had communicated with him, a different car came to a stop in front of the café and out of it climbed Elovik.

Activating his radio, Harvath announced to the rest of the team, "Game on."