Near Dark (Scot Harvath #20) - Brad Thor Page 0,65
the conference table and sat down.
His brain was doing that thing again. The mug felt warm in his hands. The coffee smelled delicious. He closed his eyes and breathed it in.
As he did, he wondered if he would ever conduct another operation after this. He had been content down in Key West. If you could call it that. Perhaps numb was a better word for it. He had surrendered himself to his fate. Whether it was the alcohol, or an assassin that took him out, it didn’t seem to make much difference. But that was before Carl Pedersen had been murdered—tortured and murdered, because of him. It was still so hard to come to grips with.
Whether or not he returned to some bar at the southernmost point of the United States to drown himself was yet to be seen. What mattered at the moment was making sure that Proctor and Jasinski were exactly the people he believed them to be. Until he had that question answered, nothing could move forward.
A chorus of clocks ticked away upon the wall, marking the passage of time from different zones around the world. Harvath kept his eyes closed and listened, as he continued to drink his coffee. No matter what he did or didn’t do, the world still kept turning.
There was a commotion from somewhere down the hall, a flurry of activity. “They’re here,” he said to himself, opening his eyes.
Standing up, he prepared to meet his guests. It was going to be an uncomfortable reunion.
David Proctor was the epitome of the Navy maxim “High speed, low drag.” He had left his protective detail outside. They didn’t even come in and do a sweep. He had no aides, no entourage. He came exactly as the President had asked, alone—except for Monika Jasinski. Colonel Mitchell showed them to the conference room.
They had not been told with whom they would be meeting. All they had been informed of was that it was in regard to their disruption of recent terror attacks against NATO diplomats.
The flashes of recognition on their faces were immediate. Harvath held out his hand and introduced himself before anyone could blow his cover. “Admiral Proctor, I’m Donovan Brenner. Thank you for agreeing to meet with me.”
Harvath shook his hand and then turned to Jasinski and repeated the introduction.
The Base Commander pointed out where everything was, and made sure his guests knew to pick up the conference room phone and to personally contact him if they needed anything. Once he had exited and had shut the door behind him, the questions started. Jasinski spoke first.
“Donovan Brenner? You’re not using that Stephen Hall, NATO alias anymore?”
“Not on this assignment. It all came together very fast. Everything had to be brand-new.”
“Assignment?” said Proctor, drawing out the word. “What’s with all the subterfuge? What’s going on, Scot?”
So far, the read he was getting on each of them was good. Proctor and Jasinski had been surprised to see him. The surprise had melted into happiness, but had quickly turned to concern. He had already made up his mind to pull no punches and to drop the news as soon as he was comfortable that he had registered their baselines.
“Carl Pedersen was murdered.”
“What?” responded Jasinski, shocked. “When?”
“A week ago. Maybe more. They found him at his weekend place outside Oslo.”
“Who killed him?” Proctor asked, better at keeping his composure, but still obviously taken aback.
“Why don’t you get some coffee and we’ll all sit down.”
Silence filled the room as they filled their mugs. Harvath hadn’t been wrong. This was an uncomfortable reunion.
Someone needed to tear the bandage off. Admiral Proctor decided to be that someone.
“Scot,” he said, “what you’ve been through is unspeakable. We just want you know that we are very sorry for your losses.”
Jasinski nodded. “If there’s anything we can do for you. All you have to do is say it.”
“Thank you,” Harvath responded.
He could feel the breath leaving his body, like water being sucked away from a beach before a tsunami. The anguish was building up inside him. He needed to shut it down.
“The best thing for me right now,” he added, “is not to talk about it—any of it.”
The Admiral was a compassionate man. “Understood,” he said. And that was that. It wasn’t spoken of again.
They gathered together at the head of the table, a sign of their friendliness for each other and solid relationship.
Once they were settled in and ready to restart the conversation, Harvath picked back up where he had left off.