| has already been put into action and there’s nothing you can do about that.” “The hell there isn’t,” replied Harvath. “Oh, really? What are you going to do?” “Whatever it takes to stop them.” “Good luck,” responded Alexandra, sliding her chair away from the table again. “Wait a second. You said you thought this was the worst thing Russia could ever undertake.” “And I meant it.” “So why aren’t you doing something?” “I am. On my own.” She wasn’t making any sense. “Then what did you mean by now that the plan has been put into action, there’s nothing we can do about it?” “I said there’s nothingyou can do about it.” “Okay, hold on a second. We keep losing focus here.” “I’m losing nothing, Agent Harvath, except my patience with having my time wasted.” “I understand,” replied Scot. “I can see, after what happened to your father, regardless of who was responsible for the leak, why you would be reluctant to tell me what you know.” “Can you?” “Yes, I can, but we need to work together on this.” “Why is that? Do you have some sort of information that may prove helpful to me?” “Maybe,” replied Harvath. “I think you’re lying. I don’t think you have anything at all to offer. If you did, you wouldn’t be here.” She was right. She had him. She was his only lead. He needed to get her to cooperate. “No matter what you think, you can’t do this alone. I can |
the bedrooms he assumed faced the front of the building and kicked it open. Three very attractive young women and one balding, overweight middle-aged man had shattered the window and were frantically trying to pry loose the decorative fleur-de-lis ironwork that stood between them and a one-story drop to freedom. “Stand back,” ordered Harvath as he laid Nixie on the bed and took aim at the grating. He fired five shots in quick succession, sending sparks and chunks of masonry in all directions. When Harvath lowered his pistol, the middle-aged client quickly moved back to the window and began shaking the ironwork for all he was worth. He was a man possessed, and when the grating failed to give way, he began crying, convinced he was going to die. Spent, the man fell to the floor and continued to sob. “Passen Sie auf!” yelled Herman as he set Kiefer down on the floor and after picking up an antique bureau, ran at the ironwork-covered window with all his might. There was the sound of splintering wood and groaning metal as the improvised battering ram struck its target head on and the fleur-de-lis grating tore from its moorings and fell with a crash onto the sidewalk below. Wheezing, Herman withdrew the dresser from the window and shoved it into the corner. Immediately, the sobbing man began scampering out the window. “Hey,” yelled Harvath. “Get back here.” Herman reached through the window, grabbed the man by his trousers and yanked him back |
