can pull on it. Hard.”
Even in its alcohol-soaked state, Harvath’s brain began running through the possibilities, ruling in and out a myriad of different scenarios.
What quickly became clear was that as with any complicated equation, if you were missing data, it made it nearly impossible to solve the problem. Harvath knew Carl Pedersen, but he had no clue who Pedersen trusted and may have talked to. They had kept their relationship tightly compartmentalized—for the safety of them both.
With the dogs sleeping nearby, the porch fell quiet again. Harvath and Nicholas, captive to their own thoughts, smoked their cigars and sipped their drinks in silence.
After a few minutes had passed, Nicholas said, “There’s something else I need to tell you.”
“What is it?” Harvath asked, staring off into the darkness.
“When the murders happened and you disappeared, Bob McGee brought me a copy of the documents the Old Man had drawn up. They laid out how he wanted the company run after he was gone. It turns out that I was his third choice. And like a good prodigal son, I stepped up. I felt it was my duty, especially after everything that had happened.”
“And?”
“And now I’m stepping down.”
Harvath, somewhat shocked, turned to face him. “You’re what?”
“I have zero qualifications to run this organization; or any organization, to be honest. I appreciate the faith he showed in me, but this isn’t my métier. Where I excel is behind a keyboard, in the ether, moving highly sensitive pieces on a digital chessboard. That’s why you brought me in to begin with. You gave me a chance to be part of something bigger than just myself. And I’ll always be grateful.”
“So, you’re quitting?”
Nicholas shook his head. “You guys are my family. I’m not going anywhere except back to the job I was brought on board to do. I can’t track money, listen to the whispers of the Dark Web, and run down leads while I’m dealing with payroll questions, quarterly projections, and sales targets.”
Harvath waved his hand like he was brushing off a mosquito. “That’s not what you’re supposed to be focused on. That’s why we have a CEO and a CFO—to deal with all the C-Suite issues. You’re supposed be the heart and the brains of the outfit. That’s why the Old Man selected you.”
“That’s why the Old Man selected you,” Nicholas reminded his friend. “I’m not a leader. You are. I stepped up when there was a void, but I never intended for this to be permanent. Now that Nina and I have a baby coming, my capacity for added responsibility is going to diminish pretty quickly.”
This was the last thing Harvath needed. He had been done caring—about everything. He didn’t want to be responsible for Reed Carlton’s legacy, much less the direction of his namesake company.
It made him feel guilty. Not enough to jump in, grasp the mantle of leadership, and save all of it, but guilty nonetheless.
“If you step down, who’s going to take over?” he asked.
“Well,” Nicholas replied, “per the Old Man, the company can be put up for sale and the new owner can decide. Or, you and I can agree to bring somebody else in to do the job.”
“Right now? In the middle of everything that has happened? In the middle of everything that is happening?”
“I would argue we need somebody now, more than ever.”
Harvath had always carried a certain burden of guilt for not agreeing to replace the Old Man. But he had made it very clear that he wasn’t ready to leave the field. Now, with Nicholas saying he wanted to step down, he felt even worse.
“Where in the world are we going to find somebody? It’s not like we can just post this kind of a job on the internet.”
“I’ve already got somebody in mind, but let’s discuss this in the morning. You look exhausted.”
“I am.”
“Can you do seven a.m.? The Hickory Lodge?”
“I’ll be there,” Harvath replied, grinding his cigar into the ashtray and standing up.
Nicholas gestured toward the bottle. “It’s yours. If you want it.”
“No thanks,” he said as he left for his cabin. “I’m done.”
CHAPTER 10
SATURDAY
Not wanting to miss breakfast, Harvath had set the alarm on the nightstand and had left a wake-up call request with the stewards as a backup. There were only a few hours until then, but a few hours were better than none. Even so, his body didn’t want to comply. He wondered if maybe he should have accepted the bottle of bourbon from Nicholas after all.
He was used