Ryan flipped through some notes before replying. “The French and the Brits also have files on Hanjour. We’re going through those now, but there do seem to be two interesting items that could be useful.”
Once she explained to Harvath what they were, he told her what he needed and then asked, “How soon can you get me to Dubai?”
CHAPTER 12
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UNITED ARAB EMIRATES
Forty-five minutes later, Harvath was standing topside on the Florida along with a squad of SEALs and a hooded and bound Ahmad Yaqub.
It took over fifteen minutes to get everyone winched up to the U.S. Navy Seahawk helicopter hovering above the submarine. Once everyone was aboard, the helo banked and took off for the USS Abraham Lincoln.
The Nimitz-class aircraft carrier was the flagship of Carrier Strike Group Nine and home to the United States Navy’s Carrier Air Wing Two. In addition to its Growler, Hawkeye, and Greyhound fixed-wing aircraft, Air Wing Two boasted four strike fighter squadrons. Strike Fighter Squadron 2, aka the “Bounty Hunters,” flew the F/A-18F Super Hornet.
The almost $70 million aircraft had a range of more than twelve hundred nautical miles, a top speed of 1,190 miles per hour, and—best of all for Harvath—a second seat.
By the time the Seahawk touched down on the deck of the Abraham Lincoln and the SEALs unloaded their prisoner, Harvath’s flying taxi was already fueled, hot, and ready to take off.
In all of his time with the Navy, Harvath had never flown in a Super Hornet. He was given a rapid briefing, during which the ejection seat was explained and he was told not to touch it. After he changed into an anti-G flight suit and put his helmet on, he climbed into the aircraft and was strapped in.
The pilot made a joke about there not being a beverage service because of the short duration of the flight, then after communication with the air boss, the yellow-shirted catapult officer gave a series of signals and the pilot throttled his engines to military power. Twenty seconds later, the steam catapult fired, shooting the plane down the deck of the Abraham Lincoln and out over the Persian Gulf.
While a special request could have been made to allow the Super Hornet to land at Dubai International Airport, Harvath wanted to keep his arrival in the UAE quiet. The United States 380th Air Expeditionary Wing was already stationed at Al-Dhafra air base outside Abu Dhabi, and that’s where he was flown.
When the pilot landed at Al-Dhafra and slid the Super Hornet’s canopy back, the cockpit was instantly enveloped in desert heat. Waiting on the tarmac was one of Ryan’s people from Dubai, a sharp-as-nails case officer named Anne Reilly-Levy. She was an attractive blonde in her forties with a distinct Texas drawl. “Welcome to the United Arab Emirates,” she said, extending her hand.
Harvath shook hands and followed her to a waiting SUV. Levy had left it idling with its air-conditioning on full blast. “It’s so damn hot,” she said as they climbed in, “I saw two trees fighting over a dog.”
Her comment made him smile. “What part of Texas are you from?”
“Dallas.”
“So you’re used to the heat.”
She shook her head. “You never get used to this kind of heat.”
Harvath agreed. “But at least they make up for it with the culture, right?”
Levy chuckled. “Yeah, in spades.” She pointed to a large shopping bag on the backseat as she put the truck in gear. “There are shoes and a couple changes of clothes in there. If they don’t fit or you need something else, let me know.”
Harvath glanced at the bag and thanked her. “How long have you been here?” he asked.
“In the UAE? Almost a year now. Before that I was in Iraq. And before Iraq, Saudi and Yemen.”
“Somebody back at Langley must hate your guts.”
She smiled. “My father was in the oil business. I spent most of my childhood in the Middle East. I’m good with languages. Arabic in particular.”
“You’re lucky the CIA got you and not the Navy. With language skills like those, they would have sent you to South America.”
“They’re that screwed up?”
“I’ve seen some dumb stuff.”
Levy turned onto a service road and increased her speed.
“If you’re not a fan of the culture,” Harvath asked, “what are you doing here?”
“This is where the fight is. Yemen, Saudi, Jordan, Syria, Iraq, every Muslim country is rotting with jihadists. This isn’t a vacation, this is work, and I go where they send