Chapter 71

CHAPTER 71

Holidae Hayes landed at Paris Le Bourget Airport in a slate-gray Bombardier Global 8000 business jet. In her hand was an American passport filled with stamps, under the assumed name Elovik had requested.

With everything to his satisfaction, the Russian had thanked her with a smile and boarded the plane. Harvath walked up the steps right behind him, barely acknowledging the Oslo station chief.

Langley wanted her to begin debriefing Elovik right away, but first she wanted to have a few words with Harvath. Directing the Russian military attaché to an enclosed, private area at the rear of the aircraft, she told him she'd be with him in a minute.

Despite the late hour, she looked all business. Her red hair was pulled back tight. She wore a dark pantsuit. To top it all off, she sported a pair of expensive heels.

"This is for you," she said, handing Harvath an envelope.

He had been pocketing the pain-relief packets in the forward galley. "What's this?"

"An official letter from the Treasury Department. They've released all holds on your Swiss account and have waived any taxes, penalties, or fees."

Folding the envelope in half, he slid it in the back pocket of his jeans.

"You're not going to read it?" she asked.

"Do I need to?"

"No, but I figured you'd want to make sure."

"I'm good," he said, excusing himself so he could slide past her and grab a bottle of water.

"Are we really going to end things this way?"

"What way?" he asked, fishing a bottle from the fridge.

"You're choosing to shoot the messenger."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"For fuck's sake, Harvath," she replied. "I had a job to do. I took no pleasure in it. I told you, I wanted to go with the carrot, not the stick."

Setting the water on the counter, he looked at her. "I get it. I just thought we were better friends than that."

"We are friends."

"I don't shiv my friends."

"Nobody shivved you. In fact, I made Langley scale way back. They wanted twenty-four-hour surveillance on you. Plus, a full listening and video package installed at S?lvi's apartment. Not only did I tell them to forget it, but I also told them that if they tried to force my hand, I'd resign."

When Harvath didn't respond, she continued. "I made it clear that they needed to trust you, like I do. In fact, I figured that if you're half the man I believe you are, the first thing you would have done was to fill S?lvi in."

Harvath tried to suppress a grin, but Hayes, who was a master at reading people, caught it. "You motherfucker," she said with a smile. "I knew it."

"At some point," Harvath replied, "and it doesn't have to be right now, I want to know whose idea it was to blackmail me."

Running her index finger down his water bottle in a move that was quasi-erotic and considerably off-putting, she replied, "Obviously, as a professional intelligence officer, that's not something I could ever do. Not even for a really good friend."

Harvath was about to respond until he watched her use the condensation from the bottle to write three letters on one of the shiny maple cabinets— DDO.

"So?" she asked. "Are we good?"

"Gooder than good," Harvath joked, pulling her in and giving her a hug.

"It's an hour and forty-five to Oslo," she said as they separated and began walking back to start Elovik's debrief. "Get some rest. You've still got a long night ahead of you."

Despite how angry he'd been, Harvath knew that focusing on Hayes was, as she had put it, shooting the messenger. Would he have handled things differently? Of course, but they were two different people with two different ways of doing what they thought was necessary. To tell the truth, she was one of the best, most solid people he had ever dealt with in the CIA. If the rumors were true, and the president was reelected, she'd probably make a fantastic ambassador. Part of him, however, hoped that she would stay exactly where she was.

Popping two packets of pain meds, he carried his bottle of water to the first chair he saw and, exhausted, dropped into it.

As the forward door closed, he could hear the engines spinning up. Pulling out his phone he texted Staelin for a SITREP.

It had been decided that Haney and Johnson should remain behind to convalesce. Once they were both ready to travel, a plane would be sent to bring them back to the United States. Until that time, Staelin and Preisler were in charge of their protection.

When Harvath's phone chimed with a response that everything was good, he gave permission to release Powell, tilted back his seat, and closed his eyes.

Hayes hadn't been kidding. He had an incredibly long night still in front of him. As he fell into what would be a very short sleep, the last thing his mind pinged off before going silent was that if his story was ever written, how might he be remembered?