“I told you she was smart,” said Harvath as he walked over to the table, picked up a bottle of aquavit, and grabbed one of the shot glasses for her.
“I’m not thirsty,” she insisted.
“Drink,” Pedersen urged. “You’ll feel better.”
“Excuse me, NIS, but you don’t have the slightest idea how I—”
Harvath handed her the glass, pulled the cork from the bottle, and filled it. “It wasn’t our fault,” he said. “The Norwegian police had already decided they were going to go in. They had all the cell members in one place. Our being here had no impact on their decision.”
Jasinski leaned against the wall, closed her eyes, and exhaled. “They got slaughtered. It was like a war zone. The Norwegians should have been warned.”
“We were,” Pedersen admitted.
She didn’t believe him. “By whom?”
“By me,” replied Harvath.
“You? I don’t understand. I was told we couldn’t discuss the other attacks. What’s going on?”
Setting the bottle back on the table, Harvath pulled out a chair and gestured for her to sit.
CHAPTER 7
* * *
There were a lot of things he wanted to tell her—such as who he really worked for, why he had been sent, and why he had chosen her for this assignment—but he couldn’t, not yet.
He had studied her file backward and forward. She had come highly recommended and he knew practically everything about her.
Monika Amelia Jasinski. Thirty-one years old. Five-foot-seven. Blonde hair, wide hazel, almost doelike eyes. Her father had been attached to the Polish Trade Commission in Chicago. After high school in Krakow, she had attended Poland’s National Defense University. From there, she entered the Polish Army where she distinguished herself in military intelligence with multiple tours in Iraq and Afghanistan.
When NATO stood up its new Joint Intelligence and Security Division at Supreme Headquarters Allied Powers Europe, or SHAPE, she was tapped for a key position as an investigator in its terrorism intelligence cell. She had more than proven herself worthy.
“What’s this all about?” she asked as Harvath topped off his glass, as well as Pedersen’s.
“You were right,” he replied.
“About what?”
“About all of it. Three attacks. Three dead diplomats. A sniper in Portugal, a car bomb in Spain, a shooter on a motorcycle in Greece. They’re all connected to a larger plot. And now we add Norway.”
Jasinski took a sip of the strong liquor. It was rewarding to hear someone reaffirm that she had correctly connected the dots. But by the same token, she still had no idea who Harvath was really working for.
They had met on a tarmac less than twelve hours ago. Allegedly, he had been sent by the NATO command based in the United States. The Supreme Allied Command Transformation, or SACT, was headquartered in Norfolk, Virginia. Its job was to come up with new, revolutionary concepts to keep NATO on the cutting edge.
As far as she was concerned, SACT was simply a glorified think tank. And sitting there in his jeans and T-shirt, Harvath didn’t strike her as the think tank type. He didn’t look like someone who sat behind a desk all day. He was too fit.
He looked like someone used to being challenged physically. There was a steeliness to him, a seriousness. He was someone who had seen bad things, and who had probably done his share of them as well.
He was also a bit too handsome. He had strong, masculine features, but she couldn’t get over the intensity of his deep blue eyes.
It was shallow of her, she knew, but this wasn’t the kind of man who toiled away at a place like SACT. She’d be willing to bet her career on it.
Also bothering her was that in the short time since they had met, not only had he smuggled a weapon into a foreign country, violated the chain of command, killed one of the operation’s targets, and stolen evidence, but he was holding out on her. There was something he wasn’t telling her. She was certain of it.
Her face must have given away her thoughts because Harvath looked at her and asked, “What’s wrong?”
She shook her head. “You’re not here because I was right in connecting the previous attacks to a larger picture.”
“I’m not?”
“No. You’re here because the United States now has skin in this game. Those other attacks weren’t personal. But once this terror group decided to blow up caves full of American military equipment, suddenly it’s game on and here you are.”
He liked her instincts. They were on the money. But there was still a lot she didn’t know. “Trust me,” he offered. “You and I are both on the same side.”
“Really? And what side is that?”
“We both want this group stopped.”
Pointing at the stack of cell phones, she stated, “I think you and I have very different ideas about how best to do that.”
“Right now? Maybe. But let me ask you something. Do you want to win?”
“What?”
“You heard me,” he said. “Do you want to win? It’s a simple question.”
What was with this guy? “Of course I do,” she replied. “I didn’t come here to lose.”
“Good. If we’re going to win, though, we have to get creative together.”
“We? I don’t even know who you work for, or why I got stuck with you.”
“I’m the guy who’s going to help you win.”
She looked at him. “Help me how? By stealing evidence? Killing suspects?”
“Monika, the enemy we’re facing doesn’t follow a rulebook. If we want to win, we have to do the same.”
“Something tells me the Norwegians might not see it your way.”
Harvath glanced at Pedersen. “Am I going to have any problems with Norway?”
Pedersen extended his hand and made the sign of the cross. “You’re absolved.”
Jasinski stared at both of them. “Somebody needs to explain to me what the hell is going on.”
“What’s going on is us getting one step ahead.”
“One step ahead of who? Everyone from that cabin is dead.”
Harvath set his glass down. “I’m not talking about them. I’m talking about the people behind them. The people who ultimately planned and coordinated the attacks that killed a NATO diplomat in Portugal, another in Spain, and a third in Greece.”
“Are you talking about some sort of leadership structure?”
Slowly, he nodded.
“Do you know who they are?” she asked. “Or even where they are?”
“We’re working on it.”
“So what’s the plan? Shoot and steal our way across Europe until we find them?”
“Would that be a problem?”
“What it would be,” she replied, “is illegal.”
“You let me worry about what’s illegal,” said Harvath.
She shook her head.
“What?”
“I don’t even know who you really work for,” she responded.
“I told you,” he began, repeating his cover story. “I’m a consultant—”