Near Dark (Scot Harvath #20) - Brad Thor Page 0,60
was going to do what he wanted to do. If Lawlor knew nothing about him, he knew that much, which was why—in the end—he had agreed to set him loose.
Harvath thrived on adversity. The worse his circumstances, the deeper he drew from himself and the greater his performance. He would turn everything that had happened into fuel, boosting his chances for success. Lawlor was certain of it.
In any other organization, a man that damaged would have been sent home, checked into a hospital, or nailed to a desk. But not at The Carlton Group. Their entire raison d’être was risk-taking. Calculated risk-taking, but risk-taking nonetheless.
Putting Harvath in the field was like dropping a malfunctioning nuclear weapon over an enemy city—depending on how the stars were aligned, it could all go stunningly right or spectacularly wrong. And until you had your answer, the wait would be excruciating.
Harvath’s plan involved leap-frogging his way into Europe and killing three birds with one stone. A Black Hawk would return him to Andrews where he’d hop a private jet from the U.S. Air Force fleet. The jet would fly him to Chièvres Air Base in Belgium—a short drive from NATO’s Supreme Headquarters Allied Powers Europe.
There’d he’d meet privately with Admiral David Proctor as well as Monika Jasinski—just to reassure himself, as well as everyone back at The Carlton Group, that neither of them had sold out Carl Pedersen.
Then, he’d climb aboard an 86th Airlift Wing flight for Šiauliai International Airport in Lithuania and NATO’s Baltic Air Policing mission—pick up a car, and make the two-and-a-half-hour drive into Vilnius to accost Landsbergis.
He’d be traveling under an assumed name with fake documents. By using NATO-supported air bases, he would avoid normal ports of entry with their CCTV cameras and biometric scanners. The only people in Europe who would know that he was there would be Proctor and Jasinski, and for them, not until he showed up. It was a risk Harvath, Lawlor, and Nicholas were all willing to take.
In addition, there was also a backup plan he wanted to run—an insurance policy of sorts. If someone was willing to murder Carl to get to him, they’d likely be willing to go after other people close to Harvath. He wanted to make sure certain people were protected.
Once everything was settled, Lance Corporal Garcia picked him up and drove him down to the helipad to meet his ride.
The Black Hawk made the trip from Camp David in just over a half hour. By the time Harvath touched down at Andrews, everything he had asked for was waiting for him. All of it, including the fake documents, were handed over to him in person by CIA Director Bob McGee.
A modified Gulfstream 550 jet—owned and operated by the U.S. Air Force and referred to as a C-37B—was fueled and standing by to make the trip to Belgium. On board were the pilot, copilot, crew chief, and a flight attendant.
The C-37B’s primary function was to provide worldwide airlift for senior American leadership and dignitaries. It was an all-weather, long-range aircraft capable of high-speed, nonstop flights. Its elegant interior was designed with comfort in mind and its crew was extensively trained in catering to VIP passengers.
After spending forty-five minutes in the hangar reviewing everything and getting a briefing from McGee, Harvath had boarded the aircraft, kicked off his shoes, and asked for a drink.
The flight attendant brought him a bourbon, handed over a printed menu card, and asked what his preferences were and when he would like his meals to be served. When she spoke, she addressed Scot as “Mr. Brenner.” “Donovan Reed Brenner” was the name that had been created for him on his fake documents. McGee had chosen it himself.
Donovan was a nod to Wild Bill Donovan, founder of the CIA’s precursor, the OSS. Brenner was a reference to the Brenner assignment—the most daring spy mission undertaken in World War II. McGee knew that the book by the same name was one of Harvath’s favorites. And also because he was one of Harvath’s favorite people, the name Reed had been chosen as a homage to the Old Man.
None of the names served any strategic purpose, they were merely symbolic, but as Harvath had learned while fighting for his life in the subzero wilderness of Russia, the smallest of things could often supply the most inspiration.
Considering some of the lousy names he had been given to work with over the years, he appreciated McGee putting so much thought into it.