Near Dark (Scot Harvath #20) - Brad Thor Page 0,70
and walked away, a cop or a parking enforcement officer would come by and notice the infraction. Not knowing what kind of sticklers they were for enforcement, at best he was looking at a ticket, at worst—getting towed. Either way, there would be a record of his vehicle being in the area.
Depending on how his meeting with the truck driver went, that might not be a problem. But his job was to prepare for the worst. And there was actually something worse than getting towed. If the cops forced their way into his vehicle and went through his gear, it would no longer be a parking enforcement issue. It would become much more serious.
His other option was to find a car that was unlocked and steal that person’s parking permit. That was asking for just as much trouble. There was no telling how many pairs of eyes were looking out from behind curtains and upstairs bedroom windows. It would only take one person to call the authorities and all the aforementioned problems would come crashing down on top of him.
Picking up his encrypted phone, he texted Nicholas a request. As he waited for the answer to come back, he pulled a piece of blank paper and a Sharpie from his laptop bag.
Two minutes later, he had his response. Zooming in on the picture Nicholas had sent, Harvath copied the sentences exactly as they had been written in Lithuanian. This vehicle belongs to a home healthcare nurse. I am visiting a patient. I will return shortly. Thank you for your understanding.
From the armrest, he retrieved the Sig Sauer P226 9mm pistol McGee had given him, as well as two of the additional magazines. Removing it from its Sticky holster, he did a press check to make sure a round was in the chamber. Then he returned it to its holster and placed it inside his waistband at the small of his back. The mags went into his pocket.
Placing the note on the dashboard, he knew it was contradictory to the image he was about to present the neighbors. Hopefully, he could get in and out before anyone noticed.
Leaning back, he grabbed his purchase from the farmer’s market and then unlocked the Land Cruiser’s door.
Stepping onto the street, he looked slowly around and didn’t see anyone. Because it was a weekday, most of the residents were likely at work.
Shutting the door, he armed the vehicle’s alarm system, and headed toward Lukša’s home. He didn’t like the fact that he was going to have to confront the man while his wife was there. He liked even less what he might have to do—to both of them.
Nevertheless, there was no way around it. The ball was in the truck driver’s court. How the game played out would be entirely dependent upon what happened the moment Harvath rang his bell.
CHAPTER 26
Taking his time, Harvath walked up the street toward the narrow, two-story home. It was a warm day and the windows facing the street were open. There was a light breeze and, when it picked up, striped yellow curtains could be seen billowing in and out.
As he got closer, he could hear a television on inside. It sounded like someone was watching sports. Based on the enthusiasm of the broadcaster, he assumed it was soccer.
Approaching the front door, he peeked in one of the windows and saw Lukša—one leg propped up, lying on the couch. He was indeed watching sports, but it wasn’t soccer. It was rugby.
He positioned himself so that the truck driver couldn’t see his face and then rang the bell. As he heard Mrs. Lukša come near, he held up the bouquet of flowers he had bought at the farmer’s market. Upon opening the door, it was the first thing she saw.
Harvath smiled as she said something to him in Lithuanian. He assumed she was asking who he was.
“I’m an old friend of your husband’s,” he replied, in English. Not knowing and, actually, not caring if he had gotten the question right. Already, he had placed his foot inside the door frame so she couldn’t close it.
The shift in his body frightened her and the color drained from her face. The truck driver yelled something from their living room. Mrs. Lukša’s words again were in Lithuanian, but this time Harvath understood one of them—“Amerikietis.” American.
In any other situation, Harvath might have been worried about his subject bolting out the back, but based on his injuries Mr. Lukša wasn’t running anywhere.