Code of Conduct (14 page)

CHAPTER 25

A
sher knew his men better than Harvath, so once the plan was firmed up he decided who would take what role. With Jambo driving the van he had borrowed, Harvath and Asher would do the snatch. Mick would drive one of the Land Cruisers as a follow car, and Simon and Eddie would take sniper positions on two different rooftops. One of Jambo’s cousins would sit in LC2 with the engine running a block away, ready to pick up the Brute Squad once they had pulled back. If everything went well, the job would be over in fifteen minutes.

They all knew, though, that if something could go wrong, it would go wrong, so they developed a set of contingencies and after checking their weapons and equipment, sanitized the apartments. They wouldn’t be coming back. Mick would take the jammer with him in LC1 and run it off a converter. It was designed to be mobile, and Nicholas could still control it remotely from back in the United States.

Starting from several blocks over, they drove back and forth to the new safe house Jambo’s relatives had arranged. It was just outside of town and remote enough that no one would know they were there. They familiarized themselves with the roads—using a different route each time—until they felt they had everything as figured out as they could.

The key was to pull this off as quietly as possible. Hendrik’s men were going to turn Bunia upside down to find their boss. And if they had any pull whatsoever with MONUSCO, there would be thousands of soldiers helping them beat the bushes. Everything would come down to timing and staying as far beneath the radar as possible.

With one last radio check, Harvath and Ash climbed into the van, slid the door shut, and instructed Jambo to move out.

As they drove toward their target, Harvath kept in touch with Nicholas and Mick, while Ash fed him situation reports from Simon and Eddie who were watching the “white house” from their rooftop perches.

Once they arrived on their mark and had the van where they wanted it, Harvath stepped out and said to Nicholas, “Start throttling him down. Slowly.”

“Roger,” Nicholas replied.

Looking at Ash, he said, “Ready?”

The Brit nodded and he and Harvath took their places around the corner. Regardless of which door Hendrik exited, Nicholas could play Hot or Cold by increasing or decreasing the cell signal based on which direction the man moved. As long as he continued on the path they wanted, his signal would continue to get warmer. They didn’t need him to go far. When he turned the corner, Harvath and Ash would throw a bag over his head toss him in the van and speed away.

“I’ve got movement,” Eddie said over the radio. “West door, same as before.”

“Can you ID who it is?” Harvath asked.

“Negative. Stand by.”

Everyone held their breath. They tensed, coiled like springs ready to jump. Seconds passed.

“Got him,” Eddie finally said. “It’s definitely Hendrik.”

“Roger that,” replied Harvath. “Lead him to us.”

“Will do,” said Eddie as he then communicated over his cell phone with Nicholas, so he could manipulate the jammer accordingly.

Everything was going smoothly. Hendrik was nearing the corner when Simon’s voice came over the radio.

“You’ve got company,” he said. “A woman and two children just stepped out of a building half a block down. Headed in your direction.”

Jambo, who was monitoring the radio from inside the van, didn’t need to be told what to do. Harvath had placed his relatives at different positions nearby, and Jambo was already on his cell phone relaying instructions.

Moments later, Simon said, “You’re all clear.”

Harvath hoped that would be the extent of any interference.

Eddie began a countdown of how many feet Hendrik was from turning the corner. “Four feet out,” he radioed. “Three feet now. Two,” but then he suddenly stopped.

Once again, everyone held their breath.

“He’s holding one of the phones up.”

Come on
, Harvath said to himself.
You’re almost there. Just a couple more feet.

Back in the United States, Nicholas boosted the signal and then dropped it. It was the push Hendrik needed, and he stepped around the corner. As he did, Harvath and Asher were waiting.

Ash landed the first blow. It was a punch to the gut that caused Hendrik to double over. Harvath brought his fist down between the man’s shoulder blades, knocking the wind from his lungs and sending him the rest of the way to the ground.

As Ash placed the bag over his head, Harvath zip-tied his hands behind his back. By the time he looked up to see where the van was, Jambo had already pulled up and had the sliding door open.

Harvath and Ash picked Hendrik up by his arms and chucked him inside. Ash climbed in after him as Harvath picked up the two cell phones. Jambo was already pulling away as Harvath jumped in and slid the door closed.

He patted Hendrik down for weapons as Ash zip-tied his ankles. He found a Browning Hi-Power with two spare magazines as well as a folding knife in his pocket and a fixed blade in his boot. He carried cash as well as a blue United Nations Laissez-Passer also known as an UNLP. It acted like a travel document and was only supposed to be used for official United Nations travel.

Popping the covers off both of the phones, Harvath removed their batteries and put all of the pieces in his pocket. Hendrik was gasping, trying to get the air back into his lungs.

Neither Harvath nor Ash spoke. As he was a Special Forces operator, they were aware of the kind of SERE training Hendrik would have had. SERE stood for Survival, Evasion, Resistance, and Escape. Once his breath had fully returned, he was going to try to sort out what was going
on. His mind would be calculating the odds of all different kinds of situations. Whatever situation he was most afraid of would weigh on him the heaviest. That’s what Harvath wanted him focused on. The more unsettled and stressed out he was, the better. A man with Hendrik’s background wasn’t going to be easy to break.

They took a circuitous route, partly to make sure they weren’t being followed, and partly to disorient Hendrik as much as possible. The less he knew, the better.

When the van came to a stop at the safe house on the outskirts of Bunia, Hendrik’s body tensed. Harvath slid the door open and Asher nudged the South African to move forward. He refused. So pulling his arm back, Asher slammed his left elbow through the hood and into Hendrik’s mouth. A stream of blood and saliva ran over his chin, down his neck, and stained the front of his shirt.

Harvath stepped out of the van and dragged Hendrik with him. Laying the man facedown in the dirt, he used his knife to slice through the restraints binding his ankles. He and Ash then lifted him to his feet and guided him to a shed at the rear of the property.

It was a stifling, unventilated space that smelled like gasoline and animal dung. It was not intended to be pleasant.

A metal chair had been placed in the middle of the shed. Hendrik was walked over to it and made to sit down. Ash zip-tied his left leg to the left leg of the chair and did the same on the right side. He then re-zip-tied his arms to the arms of the chair.

If Hendrik had resisted, or tried to lash out in any way, Asher had been prepared to punch him in a very sensitive part of his anatomy. Hendrik, though, had not resisted. He had not even spoken.

While Ash kept an eye on their prisoner, Harvath walked back to the house. Everything he had asked for was there. Stacking as much of it as he could in a metal washtub, he walked back out to the shed.

Mick and the Brute Squad had arrived. With all of the vehicles now inside the gate, Jambo locked it and then helped his relatives cover the van with a tarp. Simon and Eddie took guard duty while Mick helped carry the rest of the supplies out to the shed. He had already been told not to speak.

In his mind, Harvath walked through how best to choreograph the next step. The operation had come together so fast, and with so little actionable intelligence, it was difficult to decide what the right move was.

By now, Hendrik’s men knew something had happened. They were well trained and would move quickly. They would start by canvassing the neighborhood. And while Harvath and his team had done all they could to minimize the potential risk of any witnesses, he had to assume that someone had seen something. Eventually Hendrik’s men were going to begin piecing things together. The weakest link in Harvath’s plan would then become the airport.

Once Hendrik’s men figured out that his abductors had been white, and thereby likely foreigners, they would be all over it. At the very least, they would post a man there. And depending on their pull with MONUSCO, they might be able to ramp up security screening or even shut it down.

Harvath didn’t want to find out. He needed to move fast, stay ahead of them. That was why Jan Hendrik would only get one opportunity to cooperate. If he refused, Harvath would have no choice but to crank things all the way up and rip off the knob.

CHAPTER 26

W
hen time was on your side, interrogations could take as long as you wanted. They could play out over hours, days, or even weeks. With long-term detainees, interrogations could stretch months or even years. It all depended on how quickly you needed the information and what lengths you were willing to go to get it.

When time was a key factor, Harvath’s definition of what was acceptable broadened dramatically. He nodded, and Asher flipped on the blinding halogen lights that had been set up on stands. Walking over to Hendrik, he pulled the bag from his head.

The man squinted and tried to get a good look at Harvath, but the lights were too bright. All he saw standing in front of him was a silhouette.

“Mr. Hendrik,” Harvath began. “I am well aware of your background and your training, so I won’t insult you by trying to build some sort of rapport. You have information I want, and I am in a hurry.

“If you cooperate, this’ll be over fast. If you don’t cooperate, this will still be over fast, but it’ll be much more painful for you. I’ll give you one chance to answer my questions. If you lie to me, or if I feel you are being evasive, all bets are off. Understand that I will go to any lengths necessary to extract from you the information I need. Is that clear?”

“Who are you?” Hendrik demanded.

Harvath gave the man an open-handed slap across the side of his face.

“That was for being evasive. You don’t ask the questions. I do.”

The South African spat a gob of blood onto the floor, squinted at him and replied, “You’re American.”

This time, Harvath hit him in the same spot, but with his fist. The blow was so hard, it rocked him to the point of almost tipping over in his chair.

“Fuck you,” said Hendrik once he had recovered.

Harvath was done playing games.

Striking him again, he demanded, “Why were you at the Matumaini Clinic?”

“Fuck you,” the man repeated.

Harvath put the bag back over his head and nodded to Ash and Mick. The two men circled around behind the South African’s chair, grabbed hold of it and tipped it backward. As soon as they did, Harvath began pouring water through the fabric over his face.

Hendrik’s body tensed, and he began to thrash wildly. Harvath stopped pouring the water and the Brits leaned him upright.

“Why were you at the Matumaini Clinic, Jan?”

Hendrik coughed and spat up water as he tried to catch his breath. Harvath gave him several more seconds and when he didn’t answer, he nodded for the Brits to tip him over again, and he once more began pouring the water.

Exhausting his first pitcher, Harvath reached for a second. Hendrik thrashed even harder than before.

The tactic was inelegant but simple. He took no pleasure in it. It was simply a tool in the toolbox. All Hendrik had to do was cooperate, and it would be over.

“Why were you at the Matumaini Clinic?” Harvath asked as he eased up on the water.

The South African sputtered and hacked from beneath his hood, trying to clear the water from his airway.

“Whoever pays you, Jan, isn’t paying you enough to go through this. Tell me why you were there, and I’ll make it stop.”

Hendrik managed a third, “Fuck you.”

It went on and on. The floor was puddled with water and Harvath’s shoes, as well as his trousers, were soaked. When pitcher number two was empty, he started in on number three.

The South African was one tough son of a bitch, but no one could
hold out indefinitely. Everyone broke under waterboarding. It was only a matter of time. Hendrik was about to reach his breaking point.

“
Humanitarian
,” he gurgled from beneath his drenched hood as he coughed and vomited up water.

Harvath motioned for the chair to be righted and waited for the man to catch his breath. Once he had, Harvath asked, “What did you say?”

Even when the hardest of men cracked, what they said had to be treated as suspect until independently confirmed. Sometimes things came pouring out in an obscure torrent. What they said could be true, could be the effect of psychological torment, or it could be complete and total bullshit.

Harvath motioned Ash and Mick back behind the lights. Once they were there, he pulled off Hendrik’s hood.

“Listen to me,” he said. “If you lie to me, you’re going back under the water. Do you understand?”

Hendrik shook his head from side to side, confused. Harvath slapped him and reached for another pitcher.

“It was a humanitarian operation,” he said feebly, trying to focus.

“A
humanitarian operation
?” Harvath said. “You wipe out a clinic and cremate an entire village and call that a humanitarian operation?”

“It needed to be contained. More would have died.”

“What needed to be contained?”

“The infection.”

“What infection?”

Hendrik didn’t reply and so Harvath slapped him again.

“One of the patients got out,” the South African stammered.

“From the Matumaini Clinic? What are you talking about?”

Hendrik failed to answer, so Harvath picked his hood back up and began to put it back over his head.

“Not Matumaini,” he said as the hood came down. “
Ngoa
.”

Harvath pulled it back up. “What’s Ngoa?”

“A village. There’s a WHO facility there. A lab.”

“A World Health Organization lab?”

The man nodded.

“What were they working on?”

“I don’t know,” Hendrik replied.

The answer came a little too quickly for Harvath’s liking. There was also the flash of a microexpression that told him the South African was lying.

Fixing his gaze on Hendrik, he said, “You’re lying to me. What happens when you lie?”

“I am not lying,” he pleaded as Harvath roughly pulled the hood down over his head and waved the Brits back over.

Harvath picked the pitcher back up as Ash and Mick tilted the chair backward.

“Hemorrhagic fever!” the man yelled. “They were experimenting with African Hemorrhagic Fever!”

“Like Ebola?”

“Worse.”

“How much worse?” Harvath demanded.

Hendrik refused to respond, so Harvath started pouring water again over his nose and mouth.

“They found a way to weaponize it!”

Harvath poured again. “Tell me how.”

“Airborne!” the South African confessed, shaking his head back and forth, trying to make the water stop. “They found a way to make it airborne!”