“You never know,” the Russian said with a conspiratorial wink. “Misha has two packs with him. Do not worry.”
“Thank you,” Sparrman said, clapping his hand on the soldier’s shoulder and then returning to Sloane.
“Ready?” he asked her, smiling, as he held up the cigarettes.
Glancing past him, she saw Jasinski at the bar. Their eyes briefly met, but in that split second, the Polish intelligence officer nodded. Game on.
CHAPTER 41
* * *
Sweden had some of the most restrictive smoking laws in the EU. Not only was it illegal to smoke in bars and restaurants, you also couldn’t smoke immediately outside them. Smokers in the Scandinavian country ranked just below lepers.
Not that Sloane minded. She had never been a smoker in her life. Seeing Sparrman’s nicotine-stained fingers had been a gift. Pay attention to everything—another of Harvath’s rules of tradecraft.
She had worried that only the promise of a blowjob could have dislodged Sparrman from the premises. Fortunately enough, there was a craving stronger than sex, stronger even than cocaine. Smoking was one of the hardest habits to kick. And once a smoker, always a smoker. It only took the right combination of circumstances to relapse.
In this case all it took was booze, a little T&A, and probably the stress of Lars Lund’s surveillance and subsequent murder. That is, if Harvath was correct, and it hadn’t been an accident. Like her boss, Sloane had been taught not to believe in coincidences either.
As she and Sparrman left the restaurant and crossed the patio, she only had one lingering concern. How would Jasinski get out?
They hadn’t had enough time to cover every eventuality. She had to trust that she’d come up with something.
Right now, Sloane needed to focus on getting Sparrman into the minivan and getting the hell out of town without his Spetsnaz pals noticing. It was a very dangerous proposition and probably much easier said than done.
The moment they hit the pavement, the Swede’s hands were all over her. It started with one on her hip. When she didn’t object, it quickly moved to her ass.
Though this was part of the job, she made a mental note to make sure to squeeze some sort of pain and suffering out of Harvath for it.
Smiling, she gently brushed his hand aside and began moving away from the entrance, toward the minivan that she knew would be idling at the end of the block.
Sparrman cooperated for a moment. Then he stopped and pressed her up against the wall, kissing her neck.
Gathering up the front of his shirt in her fist, she brought him close enough to deliver a vicious head butt, but instead, gave him a peck on the cheek.
“Slowly,” she cooed. “What’s your rush? Let’s go have our cigarette first.”
Smiling brightly once more, she gestured for them and Sparrman handed the pack over.
As if she’d stolen the ball and was heading for the goal, she squealed and ran as best she could, in heels, down the sidewalk.
Enjoying the game, Sparrman followed, growling and closing in on her with each step.
At the end of the block, she ducked around the corner, out of his sight. Sparrman wasn’t deterred.
As she disappeared, he chased right after her, chanting, “Here, kitty, kitty, kitty.”
Coming around the corner, his chants instantly stopped.
“Hi there,” said Harvath, as the Swede came to a screeching halt right in front of him. Haney had brought back Chase and Staelin, who were standing next to Scot. Sloane was behind them.
“What the hell is this?” Sparrman demanded. “Who are you?”
“The tooth fairy,” Harvath replied.
Stepping forward, Chase deployed his Taser and let the Swede ride the lightning. Instantly the man’s muscles seized and he fell to the ground. Harvath then gave the Go command and everyone sprang into action.
While Haney backed the minivan up to their position, Staelin Flex-Cuffed Sparrman, put a piece of duct tape over his mouth, and pulled a hood down over his head.
They had debated disabling the Spetsnaz vehicles, possibly by slashing their tires, but decided instead to make it look as if Sparrman had simply left with a woman he had met in the bar. If they went to the police, that was all they would be able to report.
Patting him down, Sloane found his car keys and headed off to where she had watched him park.
Harvath helped Staelin get Sparrman into the minivan and then told him and Haney to get back to the rental house. He and Chase would keep the Camry and join them as soon as they could. First, they had to make sure that Jasinski got out of O’Learys.
As Haney and Staelin took off with their prisoner, Harvath pulled out his phone and texted a prearranged one-word code to Jasinski: Bootsy.
• • •
Back inside O’Learys, Jasinski looked down at her phone, which was sitting atop the bar. Harvath’s text had just come in. It was time to execute her exit plan.
She had begun looking for ways out the moment she had walked in. It was one of the reasons she had gone to the ladies’ room. Its windows, though, opened onto a small courtyard, framed by the medieval city wall. Without climbing equipment there was no way she was going to be able to get up and over it. It was too tall.
If they’d had time to prepare, perhaps she could have hidden a length of rope and a pair of athletic shoes, but they’d had to do this on the fly. As she had been trained in the Army, she needed to adapt and overcome. Think, she had told herself. What other ways are there out of here?
Nikolai was interested in his soccer game, but he was also interested in her. If she got up from her stool, he would want to know where she was going. And despite appearing a bit brutish, he didn’t come off as unintelligent.
The Russian was paying attention to his surroundings—watching who came and went. Jasinski had a pretty good feeling he had been keeping a mental clock on how long Sparrman had been gone as well. If he saw her walk out the front door, he was going to be very suspicious. He might even follow her. That couldn’t be allowed to happen.
The kitchen was her best shot. From what she could tell, it had a back door of some sort that opened onto a gangway that, she hoped, led to the street. The only problem was that the kitchen could be seen from where they were sitting at the bar. If Nikolai, or any of his comrades, saw her walk in there, they’d immediately suspect something was off.
The key was to do it without their seeing anything. She needed a quick diversion. It only had to last long enough to get her into and through the kitchen. On her last trip to the ladies’ room, she had seen just the thing.
Swallowing what was left of her beer, she playfully teased Nikolai with the empty bottle. “Buy me another?” she asked, pretending to be a little more buzzed than she was.
In the Russian’s estimation, the beers were very expensive. Too expensive. Nevertheless, if he ended up getting laid, the investment would be worth it. The woman was attractive and had put her hand on his arm several times, which was a good sign. She also didn’t talk too much. She seemed content to let him watch the game and talk with his buddies. She was almost too good to be true. Signaling the barman, he gestured to bring the woman another round. If he didn’t end up sleeping with her, he could always insist Sparrman pay him back.
“Will you excuse me, please?” Jasinski said, as she slid off her stool.