Chapter 66

CHAPTER 66

If Harvath had been truly honest with himself, he had only partially relinquished control. Stepping into the sniper role and occupying an overwatch position allowed him to be two places at once.

He could be in the window, with a view across the street, enabling him to protect and assist Preisler, and he could also be available to back up Staelin, should anything go down. In essence, he had figured out how to have his cake and eat it too.

Harvath had only one rule of engagement. If the Russians went on the offensive, then any Russians in or around the operation could be considered rightful combatants and therefore fair game.

As his phone vibrated, he looked down at a text from Preisler. Elovik just transmitted your location. Look sharp.

Harvath texted back a thumbs-up and then radioed the rest of the team. If an attack was coming, it was coming soon.

As Harvath manned Haney's suppressed 417, Staelin was monitoring a bank of CCTV cameras at the front desk.

Four minutes after Preisler's last text, he texted again. Three vehicles just pulled up. South side of your building.

Acknowledging receipt, Harvath then hailed Staelin. "We've got company. South side. Three vehicles."

"Good copy," Staelin replied. "I see them. They're debussing now. Looks like twelve men in total."

"Twelve?" Harvath replied. "Who's back watching their embassy?"

"They're going to be down to cooks and computer specialists soon. Here we go. They're approaching the lobby door."

"Which I made sure was fully locked. If they breach that barrier, it's on. We go hot."

"Jesus," said Staelin, leaning in closer to watch his monitor. "One of these guys just pulled a sledgehammer out from under his jacket."

There was a pause as Staelin continued to watch the events on the ground level unfold. Then his voice crackled back across the radio, "Breach. Breach. Breach. They just made entry."

"Roger that. We're live."

"Confirmed," Staelin replied. "They're breaking into four-man teams. One is headed for the north stairwell. Another is crossing the lobby toward the south stairwell. And, if you can believe it, it looks like these idiots are going to send the last team up the elevator."

"It's the Russians," said Harvath. "I can believe anything. Just make sure there's something there to greet them."

"Roger that," the ex–Delta Force operative stated, getting up from the front desk. "I'm going to position one."

"Good copy," said Harvath as he texted Preisler. Contact. You're cleared hot. 10 seconds out.

When Preisler sent him the thumbs-up, Harvath began counting down from ten. Flipping the fire selector on the 417 from safe to single shot, he snugged the butt of the weapon up against his shoulder and consulted the range card taped next to the window.

As soon as he saw Preisler stand up and approach the table where Powell and Elovik were seated, he sighted in his target and took a deep breath.

Exhaling, he pressed the rifle's trigger. Good hit, he murmured to himself as it shattered the windshield of Elovik's vehicle, idling in the no-parking zone. He followed it up with five more, moving back and forth between the driver and passenger.

He then watched as Preisler, who already had the Russian military attaché on his feet with a pistol jammed tightly into his side, steered him out of the café and down the block.

True to their arrangement, Powell—who had laid money on the table to pay their tab—was walking right alongside. When they reached the embassy vehicle, the station chief popped the trunk and removed the briefcase with his payment; then the trio disappeared around the corner to where Harvath had parked the CIA man's Citroen.

As soon as they were no longer visible, Harvath closed the window, transitioned from Haney's 417 to Johnson's H he was going to be dead. He had only seconds to figure out what to do. Suddenly, he thought of the Brutalica.

Pulling out the knife again, he picked a lower section of wall behind the desk and cut into it. Once it had been properly scored, he kicked through the drywall, yanked the insulation, and repeated the process on the other side. He then slipped through the narrow opening into the empty office next door. The tables had been officially turned.

Gun up, ready to engage the enemy, he moved to the door. From the south stairwell, he could hear the sounds of Staelin's ongoing, intense firefight. He needed to get down there to back him up, but first things first.

The smoke had poured into this office, but less so, and it was already starting to vanish. Any moment the Russians were going to make their move. So was Harvath.

Risking a look into the hall, in between the weakening curtains of smoke, he could see two figures massed near the other door. The attackers were getting ready to make entry. As they did, Harvath began applying pressure to his trigger.

The moment they charged into the office, Harvath sprung into the hall and went straight after them.