worked on together, and how much the Lithuanian government—in particular its State Security Department—knew about him.
Some of the discussion was uncomfortable, even painful—for both of them. It was clear that Landsbergis had not only appreciated Carl, but had also genuinely enjoyed working with him. Like Harvath, the VSD man felt guilty over having a role in the Norwegian intelligence operative’s death. Carl brought out the best in everyone he worked with and inspired deep loyalty. His loss, especially in the midst of the ongoing battle against a revanchist Russia, was going to be felt by everyone who had ever worked and fought alongside him.
The longer they drove and the further they talked, the greater Harvath’s confidence in Landsbergis grew. The man was not only intelligent, but humble. As information came in, he was able to quickly weigh, catalogue, and analyze it. When the time came to make an assessment, he did so dispassionately, without influence from his ego. He was guided by something much truer and much more valuable—his moral compass.
Bottom-line—Landsbergis was a guy who did the right thing. Which was why, when they arrived at the rendezvous point, two blocks from the target, Harvath handed him his Glock back.
“What’s this?” the Lithuanian asked.
“What’s it look like? Take it. Better to have it and not need it than to need it and not have it.”
Landsbergis nodded in agreement and accepted the pistol. But then his face became solemn. “I have to ask you something.”
Harvath had a feeling he knew where this was going, but he opened the barn door anyway. “Go ahead.”
“Back at my house, were you really prepared to torture me?”
Harvath didn’t flinch. “One hundred percent. And if the situation were reversed, Carl would have been too. As someone put it to me recently, the Russians are animals. Not the people, per se, but the people in power. And those who serve the people in power. You are on the front lines here. I’m sure you know that. And I’m sure that Carl told you that.”
“Repeatedly,” said the VSD man.
“You need to act like it. Every day. Every hour. Every moment. They’re coming for your country. They will get to pick the time and the place. The only thing you get to pick is how well prepared you’ll be. It sucks, and so is what we’re about to do, but it is what it is. Sometimes, the fight chooses us.”
Idling in the parking spot, he waited until Sølvi had pulled up, parked behind him, and joined them in the Land Cruiser.
The first thing she noticed was that Harvath had given Landsbergis his Glock back. “You two seem to be getting along well,” she commented.
“We’re all good here,” Harvath replied. “Now, let’s take a few minutes and discuss how this is going to go down.”
For the next ten minutes, he went over his plan, as well as the contingencies they’d need to execute if anything went wrong. As seasoned intelligence operatives, all three of them understood the risks.
When they were done with their discussion, Harvath put the Land Cruiser in gear and eased out into traffic. He wanted to do another drive-by of their objective.
The sun was setting and lights were already coming on inside. Pedestrians moved up and down the sidewalk. What they could see of the inner courtyard through the wrought iron gates was empty. If there were any vehicles present, they must have been down in the underground parking structure.
For all intents and purposes, it was quiet—which was exactly how Harvath had hoped to find it.
Turning right at the next intersection, he followed the street until he could make another right, and then found a parking space halfway up the block. Before they did anything else, he wanted to deploy the drone.
Getting out of the Land Cruiser he walked back to the rear of the SUV and popped the hatch. Checking the main battery sitting in the charger, he was disappointed. He had hoped it would charge faster. In the time since they had left the woods near Landsbergis’s house, only 12 percent of the power had been replenished. He was going to have to rely on the smaller battery.
Powering up the drone, he brought up its app on his phone and waited for the diagnostics to display. As soon as they did, he grew angry.
The smaller, backup battery only had 4 percent power. Whoever had used the drone last hadn’t fully recharged it before turning it back in.
Ultimately, it was his fault. As a SEAL, he