“Pretty quiet,” he said as they neared the apartment complex.
“Too quiet,” replied Schiller, who covertly banged on the cabin bulkhead behind him to let his assaulters in back know that they were rolling up on the target.
Harvath scanned the windows and rooftops for any sign of a spotter, but saw nothing. Even so, he felt like there were a thousand sets of eyes on them. “Ten seconds,” he said.
Schiller knocked twice on the wall behind him.
When they arrived in front of the apartment complex, Harvath brought the truck to a stop, put it in park, and turned off the ignition. There was no service entrance. Everything went in and out of the building through the front door. It wasn’t lost on him how exposed they all were out there in the middle of the street. He wanted to get the assaulters into the building as quickly as possible. Then he’d be the only sitting duck out in the open.
He, Schiller, and one other assaulter climbed out of the cab and got to work. Harvath walked around to the back of the truck, extended the ramp, and rolled up the door. Schiller and his assaulter stepped into the lobby of the building. While Schiller pretended to be buzzing up to someone on the intercom system, his assaulter used a lock- pick gun to open the second set of doors. As soon as they were open, he pulled a rubber wedge from his pocket and propped it open.
Schiller followed him inside and called for the elevator. While he waited for it to come down, he pried the glass cover from the fireman’s key box, removed the key, and replaced the cover. When the elevator arrived, he stepped inside and inserted the key. It was now under their control.
The assaulters from the back of the truck had already debused and were stacking boxes on dollies when Schiller and the other man came out to assist them.
Once the dollies were all loaded up, the men disappeared inside with them. Harvath’s job now was to stay with the truck and be the team’s eyes out on the street. He pulled down the rear door, threw the lock, and then walked back up front and climbed into the cab.
Though he wasn’t a smoker, Harvath removed the pack of cigarettes he had purchased, lit one, and hung his arm out the window. It had always been fascinating to him how someone just sitting in a car doing nothing could be suspicious, but the minute you gave him a cigarette and he adopted a casual posture, somehow he became less so. He couldn’t explain why that was, but he’d seen it work enough times that it had become a tactic he liked to employ when he had to hide in plain sight.
The truck’s side mirrors had been angled outward before they departed the parking area to give them the best possible view of the street and the sidewalks on either side. He could even make out the car with the book on its dashboard several car lengths back. Noticing it, he used his free hand to pull the baseball cap he was wearing down a little tighter.
He pretended to fumble with the truck’s radio as he looked out the windshield and studied the windows of the buildings around him. He had yet to shake his feeling that somebody was watching, that something wasn’t right.
He also hated just sitting there. It had been the right decision, but it still didn’t mean he liked it. He wanted to be where the action was, not sitting in a van waiting for everything to go down. Ultimately, being where he was right now had been his call, and it had been the right call. Leadership was not only about taking charge, it was also about giving your team everything they needed to succeed, and then getting out of their way. It meant knowing when you should be the first person charging through a door and when you should stand down and let someone else do it.
Harvath had the makings of a good leader, and at some point, way in the distant future, that was going to be important, because he couldn’t dance on the pointy tip of the spear forever. Eventually, his reaction times were going to slow. When that happened, he was going to have to come to terms with the high-speed life he had lived since his late teens. Time catches up with everyone at some point. The secret lay in knowing when to dial back your lifestyle. Now, though, wasn’t the time. Harvath was in the best physical and mental condition of his life and there was no end of bad guys that needed to be dealt with.
As long as he stayed on the right side of his ops and the people he worked for, everything would be fine.
No sooner had that thought entered his mind than the radio in the bag next to him clicked. Schiller was indicating that he and his assault team were geared up and ready to breach the apartment.
Murphy clicked back the all-clear from behind the complex and after one last check of the street, Harvath reached his hand into the bag and clicked back his response. All clear. It was time to clean out the rats’ nest.
As Harvath’s hand felt for the butt of his MP7, he could completely visualize what was going on upstairs. With the all-clear having been signaled from outside, Schiller would motion up his breacher, have him pause, and then click his radio one last time before giving the man the command to swing the breaching ram and knock the safe- house door right off its hinges.
Flicking his cigarette into the street, Harvath drew his left hand inside the window and hovered it over the truck’s horn. He wanted to give Chase a heads-up, but he knew he couldn’t. He needed to appear just as shocked by the entry team as everyone else. If there was a signal before the attack, they could very well cue in on that after the fact. Harvath’s plan for leaving Chase under cover with them once they had been transported to a black site for interrogation could all come unraveled.
As Harvath waited on the street below for the assault team to enter the apartment, his heart began to beat faster and the hairs on the back of his neck suddenly stood on end as if the air was charged with electricity. It was a way his gut had of signaling him that something wasn’t right.
CHAPTER 24
Having seen the book on the dashboard of the car outside, Chase knew the assault team would hit the apartment before nightfall. There was no way of knowing if they had seen his signal. He hoped so, because he couldn’t do it a second time. There was a very bad vibe in the safe house. If he got caught opening the blinds or any of the windows again, he had no doubt there’d be hell to pay.
Sabah had returned, and he and Karami had shut themselves up in one of the rooms at the end of the hall. Chase wondered if there were any computers or weapons hidden away in that room. He also wondered where Sabah had gone in such a hurry and what he and Karami were now talking about.
Chase was certain that the Uppsala cell was in the final stages of something. What it was, he had no idea, but it sure felt as if they were about to go operational on something. Was the Uppsala cell Aazim’s dead man switch? Had he provided Karami with a target deck and a way to activate the network’s sleepers in the United States and elsewhere upon his death?
These were all questions Chase couldn’t wait to start asking. He also wanted to know why it had been so important for the Uppsala cell to bring Aazim’s nephew in. Was the uncle just that overprotective, or did Mansoor know something or have access to something of value? They’d be getting to the bottom of all of it soon enough.
In the meantime, Chase stayed with the cell’s cannon fodder and watched war porn. One of the jihadists got up at one point to get tea and actually brought back an extra glass for the newcomer. It was a good sign; a sign of respect. Quietly, Chase hoped that it meant that they had begun to accept him. Their willingness to believe he was one of them would affect how successful the interrogations would be once they had been deposited in whatever black site Harvath had arranged for them.
Chase knew exactly what was in store for him. Very likely, he was going to get Tasered when the assault team hit the safe house. He’d be FlexCuff’d and hooded. If he resisted, which he planned on doing quite vehemently, he’d get a tune-up, which meant he’d be slapped around.
After they were tossed in the truck with the other cell members and spirited back to the farm, Harvath would line them up in the barn and have their clothes cut away from their bodies with EMT shears. They’d then receive the same “packaging” all extraordinary rendition prisoners had been receiving since 9/11.
After being fitted with suppositories containing a psychotropic drug to make them more compliant and to disorient their comprehension of time and space, they’d be fitted with diapers for the long plane ride, dressed in matching coveralls, shackled, and with their heads still hooded with bags that allowed for no light to get in, they’d have sensory deprivation headsets fitted over their ears.
