though this was an “away” game, there was still the potential of his being recognized by other parents. If they saw him pull into the lot, only to turn around and leave with a stranger, it could set off alarm bells. At the very least, someone might say something to Mrs. Bremmer, and Harvath needed her to stay put.
Rhodes did raise one point that Harvath agreed with. From what they’d been able to learn from reading Molly’s Facebook posts, her father was chronically late to all of her matches. Rhodes used that as a selling point. There was probably a better than equal chance that Bremmer would be late. If so, the issue of other parents being in the parking area might not be a concern.
Having been a high school athlete himself, Harvath knew Bremmer wouldn’t be the only father likely to be late to the game. They couldn’t stage in the parking area and hope to take him down without notice. Too much could go wrong. The fact that Bremmer would probably be in a hurry to get to his daughter’s game, though, worked to their advantage.
If Bremmer was in a hurry, he’d probably take the most direct route from his office and he’d be focused more on getting to his destination than on what was going on around him.
In almost any other situation, pulling up next to him as he got out of his car, throwing a hood over his head, and dragging him off in the Suburban would have been fastest, cleanest, and most effective. Today, they were going to have to be a little less fast and a whole lot less clean, but as long they were effective, the ends would justify the means.
After scouting the area where the match would take place, they left Rhodes behind to set up her part of the operation. Casey and Harvath then thoroughly scouted two additional locations they’d need, before driving back out to the highway and the exit they were confident Bremmer would be taking.
No sooner had Harvath shut off the engine than Casey restarted the argument they had been having since she had first heard Bremmer’s name.
“It completely escapes me how you think we’re going to go along with this.”
“It’s the only way it works, Gretch,” Harvath replied.
“The hell it does.”
He understood why she was angry. If the situation were reversed, he might feel the same way. “About Rhodes…,” he said, changing the subject.
Casey knew what he was referring to. “She’ll do it,” she replied. “She won’t like it, but she’ll do it.”
“You’ve got to trust me on this.”
“Trusting you and liking what you’ve asked us to do, though, are two different things.”
“I know,” said Harvath and he meant it. He respected Casey. She was a highly accomplished and highly skilled operator. Whether in spite of those facts or because of them, he knew he was going to have to keep an eye on her. If she changed course on him, it wouldn’t be the first time an operator had decided their view of how to handle the situation was the best one. Harvath had done it more times than he could count.
He succeeded in changing the subject and they made small talk until one of the clean cell phones Casey had brought with her vibrated and several MMS messages came in with pictures attached. She scrolled through and then handed the phone to Harvath. Molly and her mother had arrived. Rhodes had taken pictures not only of them but also of their vehicle. Everything, so far, was on track. Checking his watch, he decided it was time to get ready.
Removing the wireless entry fob, Harvath left the key in the ignition, and he and Casey climbed out of the vehicle. After removing the license plate from the front bumper, they walked around to the back.
Triggering the hatch, he counted how long it took to open and then hopped up into the cargo area. Once he was in, Casey closed it and stood by as Harvath tested using the fob to open it from inside. Satisfied, he gave her the thumbs-up and she returned to the driver’s seat.
Because of their position, they were stuck with an obstructed view of the highway. There wouldn’t be much time between identifying Chuck Bremmer’s vehicle and having to pull out after him. Checking her appearance in the rearview mirror, Casey adjusted her shirt.
“I’m not going to have to remind you to smile and turn on the charm, am I?” he asked, from the back, where he was lying out of sight.
“If he’s like any other man I’ve ever met, it’s not my smile he’s going to be looking at.”
“Good point,” Harvath replied. “Don’t forget your speed, okay?”
“How did I ever survive without you?” she snarked. “I know how fast I have to be going to get the airbags to deploy. Don’t worry about it.”
“Sorry. Just give me a heads-up so I can brace for impact.”
“I’ll try to remember.”
Harvath shook his head and smiled. She didn’t like being told what to do and what to remember. He couldn’t blame her. He was the same way. He began to say something else, but she cut him off. “I can’t hear you,” she said, “I’m watching the road.”
Harvath smiled again and contented himself with waiting. Ten minutes later, Casey said, “Contact,” as she tossed her binoculars into the passenger seat, and started the engine.
He didn’t like being positioned in the cargo area. He would much rather have been behind the wheel, but it had been his idea, and it was the right way to carry out their plan. Nevertheless, he didn’t like the feeling that he wasn’t 100 percent in control. “Remember,” he cautioned, “watch your speed and let me know when to brace.”
“Want to take a stab at what’s worse than a backseat driver?”
“I get it. Just remember your precious cargo back here.”
“I know you can’t see,” she replied, “but I’m rolling my eyes up here.” Before Harvath could respond, she added, “He’s exiting now.”
“We’re sure it’s him?”
“Stand by.”
The seconds ticked past. When Bremmer’s vehicle hit the top of the exit ramp and turned right, Casey said, “We’ve got him. That’s him,” and pulled out onto the road.
It was a rural thoroughfare in suburban Virginia. Thick-trunked trees and grassy fields were interspersed with cookie-cutter housing developments. Based on how fast they were traveling, Harvath tried to picture where they were and how soon they’d arrive at their assault point. He was tempted to ask Casey, but she needed to focus on driving, so he kept the question to himself. The problem, though, was that she was continuing to accelerate, and even from where he lay, he could tell they were going well above the speed limit.
“What the hell is going on?” he finally asked.
“I guess Daddy doesn’t want to disappoint his little girl.”
“How fast are we going?”
“You don’t want to know,” Casey replied and then added, “The way he’s driving, I don’t know if he’s going to stop when he gets to the stop sign. Should I pit him?”
Pitting, slang for the Pittman Maneuver, referred to turning the front quarter of your vehicle into the rear quarter of the target vehicle in order to cause them to spin out. It was an effective move, but it could also be deadly if the target vehicle hit a tree, crossed into oncoming traffic, or went into a ditch and flipped. Harvath didn’t want to risk it. “No,” he said from the cargo area, “don’t pit him.”
“Then what do you want me to do? It doesn’t look like he’s slowing down.”
“He’ll stop.”
“I don’t think so. I can already make out the stop sign, and if I can see it, so can he.”
“How much distance do we have between us and him?”
“Maybe six car lengths,” said Casey.
“He’s not going to overtly risk a ticket. He’ll do a California stop. He’ll slow down and look left and right and then step on the gas again. You need to hit him before he accelerates.”
“I’ll try.”
Harvath pressed himself up against the third row of seats and got ready for impact. Casey gunned the heavy SUV, only to step on the brakes almost immediately as she tried to time her arrival at the intersection for just the right moment. With the speed at which Bremmer was moving, Harvath sensed the calculation was extremely difficult.
He felt the shudder of the antilock brakes kicking in as Casey made another massive correction in the vehicle’s speed. Five seconds later, she depressed the accelerator, ramped up speed, and shouted, “Brace!”
