an answer. “I’m not sure,” she said. “Carl was protective. He had a thing about compartmentalization.”
Maybe, thought Harvath. But he had a growing feeling that it might have been something else.
Maybe their mentors knew their protégés all too well. Maybe they knew that once they had been introduced, they wouldn’t be able to pry them apart.
They chatted the rest of the way to Šiauliai, asking lots of questions, but being careful not to go too deep or too personal. Each wanted to know more about the other, but instinctively they knew there was pain on the other side and they moved cautiously.
At the air base, they unloaded their gear, grabbed something to eat, and stepped aboard their plane. This time, there weren’t any earplugs. The ride was loud and cold. Even Harvath, who was a pro at falling asleep anywhere, failed to get much shut-eye.
When the C-130 touched down at the NATO air base at Aviano in northern Italy, both Harvath and Sølvi were exhausted. A vehicle was waiting for them, and though they had been offered showers and a hot meal, Harvath wanted to get moving. Sølvi had agreed.
Hopping into their boxy brown Jeep Renegade, they had gotten on the road. It was a three-plus-hour drive to Lake Garda and Montecalvo the “information broker” Kovalyov had confessed to working with. Returning the favor from earlier, Harvath had taken the wheel.
There was no small talk, no witty back-and-forth during this drive. No sooner had they loaded the Jeep and discreetly rolled off the base than Sølvi was asleep in the passenger seat.
She had turned onto her right side, facing the window. He kept stealing glances at her, though knowing he needed to pay attention to his driving.
As his eyelids got heavier, he cracked his window and turned on the radio—not too loud, just loud enough that he could hear the music in order to help himself stay awake.
Nicholas had made a reservation for them at a hotel in Sirmione overlooking the lake. Judging by all of the cars, he hadn’t been kidding when he had said he had found them the last room in town. Tourist season was in full swing.
Lake Garda was the largest lake in Italy and Sirmione was a narrow promontory that jutted two miles out into the crystal-blue water from the lake’s southern shore. It was known for the thirteenth-century castle and winding cobblestone streets of its Old Town. It had been a refuge of tranquility for opera singer Maria Callas decades ago, before it had become such a mega destination.
As he eased to a stop in front of the hotel, Sølvi slowly opened her eyes and asked, “Are we here?”
“We’re here,” said Harvath.
She wanted to help him with his gear, but he told her not to worry. Checking in, he accompanied her to the room to make sure everything was okay, then came back downstairs, found a luggage cart, and, after parking, unloaded all his stuff, and headed back up to the room.
He had been gone only ten minutes, but she was already in bed, sound asleep. Grabbing the spare pillow and blanket from the closet, he made himself comfortable on the couch.
He texted Nicholas to give him a SITREP, then plugged his phone into its charger. Lying back on the pillow, he closed his eyes. Moments later, he was asleep as well.
CHAPTER 38
TUESDAY
Harvath awoke to the sound of the doorbell ringing. Sitting up, he looked at the time. It was after nine a.m.
Wearing a white bathrobe, her hair still wet from a shower, Sølvi had stepped out of the bathroom and had already answered the door.
A room service waiter in a white jacket and black tie was standing in the hall next to a cart adorned with silver cloches, baskets of bread and pastries, a carafe of ice water and one of juice, a large pot of coffee, glasses, cups, linens, and other assorted breakfast accoutrements.
The waiter thanked Sølvi for opening the door, and with a polite bow offered for her to go first, and stated that he would follow her into the living room.
Once inside, he asked where she wanted breakfast set up. “How about on the balcony?”
“Perfetto,” the waiter replied. Perfect.
While they prepped everything outside, Harvath slipped into the bathroom, splashed some water on his face, and brushed his teeth.
By the time he rejoined Sølvi, the waiter had already gone.
“Coffee?” she asked as he stepped onto the balcony and pulled out his chair.
“Yes, please.”
Sitting down, he put his napkin in his lap