away from the water, deeper into the city. Not a good thing. Too many one-way streets, back alleys, and warehouses where the ISI could vanish. Yaqub would go to ground and the ISI would help keep him hidden. It would be a long time, if ever, before he returned to his compound in Waziristan. Harvath and his team were only going to get one last chance. He decided to throw everything they had at it.
Pronouncing the name of the street as best he could, Harvath radioed his Pakistani assets to tell them what he wanted them to do. What they carried in their backpacks was now critical to the survival of the United States.
Harvath pointed to the street coming up on their right and said, “This one. Here.”
“Hold on,” Chase replied.
The tires of the big SUV screeched in protest as it swung around the corner and Chase punched the accelerator once more.
They were on a parallel street to Yaqub’s motorcade, but they were still behind. Harvath could see traffic in front of them beginning to slow.
“Hold on,” Chase instructed again.
Jumping the SUV up onto the sidewalk, he honked his horn and yelled for people to get out of the way.
As Harvath squinted at his map, the voices of the Pakistanis could be heard over the radio.
“We’re here!” they replied in unison.
“Don’t do anything until you see their vehicles. Understood?” he ordered.
“Understood.”
Turning his attention to Chase, Harvath said, “Two blocks down we make a left turn and we go hard. Got it?”
“Got it,” Chase confirmed.
Two blocks later, Chase jerked the SUV back into the street, pulled a hard left turn, and sped toward their rendezvous with Yaqub’s motorcade. The key was to get there before the ISI agents could get out of their vehicles.
“They’re coming,” said one of the Pakistanis over the radio. “Very close. Almost here. Almost here,” he continued.
There was complete radio silence for several moments until one of the Pakistanis commanded his colleague, “Now! Now! Now!”
Harvath could envision what was happening. Both of the men would have taken off their backpacks. The first man would remove what looked like a large black wheel of Swiss cheese. Inspired by the Spider-Man character, the SQUID—or Safe Quick Undercarriage Immobilization Device—deployed sticky webs of netting from its holes that would entangle a vehicle’s axles and bring it to a complete and almost immediate stop. It was safer and far more effective than strip spikes and could stop anything from a Mini Cooper to a Chevy Suburban.
The second Pakistani was carrying two magnetized explosive devices developed by the Israelis to kill Iranian nuclear scientists. While the scientists sat in traffic, an operative on a motorcycle would pull up alongside, affix the bomb to their vehicle, and speed off just before it detonated.
According to the Carlton Group’s intelligence, Yaqub was accompanied in his vehicle by two of his fighters from Waziristan, plus an ISI driver. Two more ISI operatives followed in the second vehicle. As far as anyone knew, both vehicles were thin-skinned and not armored. Nevertheless, Harvath believed in the SEAL motto that two is one and one is none. He would rather do too much damage than not enough.
As Yaqub’s vehicle passed, the first Pakistani would activate the SQUID, bringing it to a halt. As the ISI chase car following behind slammed on its brakes, the second Pakistani would emerge from hiding and affix one bomb to the chase car’s undercarriage and another to the side. The Pakistanis would then retreat to cover and Pakistani number two would detonate the devices.
Chase, Harvath, and Sloane were less than thirty seconds away when they heard the first explosion, followed by the second.
Skidding into the intersection, they could see everything had worked. Netting was twisted around Yaqub’s axles and behind it, the chase car was on fire, the two ISI agents inside either dead or dying.
As Chase brought their SUV to a screeching halt, Harvath was like ice. He felt nothing for the ISI operatives or the fighters from Waziristan. They were giving aid and protection to a terrorist planning to help murder hundreds of millions of Americans. The men had made their bed, and now they could burn in it.
Harvath and Sloane jumped out of their SUV, MP7s up and at the ready, followed by Chase, who had reclaimed his Hoplite. Together, they rushed Yaqub’s car.
From the front passenger seat, one of Yaqub’s fighters produced a short-barreled shotgun. As soon as Harvath saw it come above the line of the dashboard, he yelled,