was also watching everything unfold through the Schmidt & Bender scope atop his .50 caliber Barrett M107A1. If they came under attack, he was their first line of defense. In fact, they were counting on Chase disrupting any potential attack before it happened. According to the drone footage, though, there was only one person at the ranch.
Harvath wasn’t willing to bet everything on a drone, but its camera and infrared imaging had been very clear. In any case, they would have their answer soon enough.
As the Gator drew closer, Sloane raised her arm and waved. Harvath stopped walking. This was as good a place as any to make their stand. Argos leaned against him, taking his weight off his sore paw.
“Good boy,” Harvath said, giving him a pat. “You’re almost done.”
If Ren Ho had been expecting trouble, he certainly didn’t act like it. The unassuming Chinese man was dressed in jeans, a denim shirt, and a pair of work boots. His Ruger Mini-14 Ranch Rifle wasn’t on the seat next to him, but rather in the Gator’s overhead rack.
As he neared the two hikers and their dog, he slowed to get a good look at them, before pulling alongside and bringing the side-by-side to a stop.
“You’re trespassing,” he said. There was no greeting, no preamble. “My signs are all clearly posted.”
“Our dog went after a moose,” Harvath replied. “It took us two hours to find him. We didn’t know where we were until we saw your signs.”
“Well, now you do,” he said curtly. “This isn’t a rest area.”
“Something’s wrong with our dog,” Sloane interjected. “We’re sorry to be on your property, but we need to get him to a vet. Can you help us, please?”
Climbing out of his Gator, Ho asked, “What’s wrong?”
Sloane smiled at him. “Thank you so much. It’s his right leg.”
“What kind of dog is he?”
“Russian sheepdog,” Harvath said, stepping away so the man didn’t feel too crowded or threatened.
“Is he friendly?” Ho inquired, bending down to examine Argos’s leg. “He’s not going to bite me, is he?”
“He’s a pussycat,” Sloane said, getting closer. “My boyfriend, on the other hand, is the one you need to worry about.”
Boyfriend was the go code she and Harvath had settled on. Noticing a pistol under Ho’s shirt, she had decided it was time to act.
Sloane brought her boot back and kicked Ho in his left side so hard she broke three of his ribs. As the man fell over, away from the dog, he gasped for breath and went for his gun. Harvath, though, was faster.
Whipping out his Taser, he made sure Ho was not in contact with Argos or Sloane and then let him ride the lightning. He pressed the trigger and the barbed probes deployed, hitting him in the chest, followed by a surge of electricity that interrupted his neuromuscular system.
As soon as he was down, Harvath tossed the Taser to Sloane and subdued Ho. He relieved the man of his 9mm Keltec PF9 pistol, FlexiCuffed his hands behind his back, and then patted him down.
Satisfied that he didn’t have any other weapons on him, Harvath placed a piece of duct tape over his mouth and a hood over his head. Then, breaking out his radio, he gave the rest of the team the code to move in.
“Swing Arm,” Harvath said over the radio. “Repeat. Swing Arm.”
CHAPTER 58
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* * *
With Ho trussed up in the bed of the Gator, Harvath and Sloane watched as the big Bell 412EP helicopter disgorged the HRT team. They cleared the ranch house first, then the barn, and then the rest of the support buildings. One of the buildings was a long metal structure stacked high with pallets of food, medicine, clothing, and assorted supplies. The head of the HRT team called it the mother of all doomsday caches.
Once everything had been deemed safe and HRT had given the all clear, a string of SUVs sped onto the ranch. First out was the NEST team, who conducted an extensive search of the property for any radiological or nuclear materials. As they did, Harvath went into the house and conducted his own search. He wanted to learn as much as he could, as quickly as he could, about the man he was about to interrogate.
The home’s décor was pretty much what Harvath assumed it would be—bland and middle-of-the-road. It was a mixture of Ho’s life in China and his life in Idaho. There was a calendar on the wall in the kitchen