Foreign Influence (23 page)

“Any family?”

“The obit I’ve got here doesn’t recognize any.”

Harvath was about to ask Nicholas to see if he could uncover an address for Jagland’s home when suddenly he heard a woman’s voice.

“What are you doing in this office? Who are you?”

“Let me call you back,” said Harvath as he disconnected the call and stood up. Smiling he offered his hand. “I’m sorry. The door was open.”

“I asked you who you are,” the woman repeated. She spoke English, but with a Germanic accent of some sort. She was in her early thirties, about five-foot-four with brown hair and trendy glasses. She was dressed in jeans and a T-shirt.

“My name’s Jeff Hemmings. Who are you?”

“I’m Dr. Jagland’s teaching assistant. What are you doing in his office?”

“We had a meeting scheduled,” said Harvath.

The woman looked at him and her posture softened a bit. “You haven’t heard?”

“Heard what?”

“Dr. Jagland was killed in a car accident.”

“When?”

“The week before last.”

“I had no idea.”

“The funeral was yesterday,” she said. “I’m taking over until the university finds a replacement. Classes resume tomorrow.”

Harvath stepped out from behind the desk. “And you came in to prepare and here I am.”

“Yes. Here you are. What is it you were supposed to meet with Dr. Jagland about?”

“I work for American Express. Dr. Jagland approached us about a project he thought our fraud-monitoring department would be interested in. We were supposed to meet here and go for dinner. He told me to dress casual.”

The teaching assistant smiled. “You’re a liar.”

“Excuse me?”

“You’re after Michael, aren’t you?”

“Who’s Michael?” asked Harvath.

“Don’t worry, I won’t say anything. But I have to tell you that anyone who knows him won’t be surprised.”

“Why is that?” he said, curious as to where this was leading.

“He’s nothing more than an overeducated hacker.”

Bingo.

“He’s incredibly rude as well,” the woman continued, “and to tell you the truth, I don’t know what Dr. Jagland saw in him. Love is blind, I guess.”

“So they were—”

The teaching assistant nodded. “Disgusting, isn’t it? Dr. Jagland was easily at least thirty years older than him. Why he couldn’t find a boyfriend his own age is beyond me. So what did Michael do?”

“It’s delicate,” replied Harvath. “I’d rather not get into it.”

“He finally went too far. I’m not surprised. Are you going to arrest him?”

“Possibly. We have to find him first. Any idea where he might be?”

“He didn’t even come to the funeral.”

“That sounds strange.”

“It’s typical, selfish Michael. Afterward, we all went out for a couple of drinks and went by the house to give him a piece of our mind.”

“The house?” asked Harvath.

“Dr. Jagland’s house. He and Michael lived together. But Michael wasn’t there. It looked like he hadn’t been there for a little bit.”

“Any idea where he might be now?”

The teaching assistant thought for a moment and then said, “The chalet, I guess.”

“Do you have an address you can give me?”

The woman pulled out her iPhone and began going through her folders. “We celebrated Dr. Jagland’s birthday there over the winter. Here’s a picture of the place,” she said, holding up her phone so Harvath could see it. “Cute, isn’t it?”

“It is,” he agreed.

“Here’s a picture of Michael too.”

Harvath looked at him and he was exactly as Nicholas had so poorly described. “If I give you my e-mail, can you send those pictures to me?”

“As long as you promise you won’t tell Michael I gave them to you.”

“You don’t need to worry. Michael and I have a lot of other things we need to discuss.”

“Good,” said the assistant with a laugh. “I really hope he gets what’s coming to him.”

CHAPTER 31
 

Lars Jagland’s chalet was located in a small village in the mountains two hours outside of Geneva.

Harvath and Peio had picked up Nicholas, who insisted on bringing Argos and Draco along. It was turning into a circus, but Harvath grudgingly agreed.

The fact that Tsui had set Nicholas up to take the fall for the attack in Rome had bothered him from the beginning. It didn’t make sense. Why not let the terrorists take credit for the operation? It was obviously meant to be a distraction, but from what? Another attack? Was it meant to somehow help the terrorists pull off their Paris operation by siphoning away investigative resources? Or, was there another reason entirely?

Harvath suspected it might be a bit of both. The one thing he knew was that their best and only lead was Tony Tsui. He not only knew about the attack in Rome, he most likely knew about the attack in Paris and whatever else the terrorists had planned. As far as Harvath was concerned, he was the key to everything; most importantly, stopping any further attacks.

Based on satellite imagery Nicholas had downloaded, Harvath identified a secluded vantage point from which they could observe the chalet as they planned their next move.

While the teaching assistant blamed selfishness for the fact that Tsui,
Michael, or whatever his name was, missed Jagland’s funeral, Harvath had another theory. The man had gone to ground. The question, though, was
why
? Harvath thought he might have a good idea.

Somehow, somewhere, Tsui had screwed up and Jagland had found out about it. Maybe he had even threatened to expose Tsui. Whatever the case, Tsui was dangerous. He had already tried to have Nicholas killed, and now Jagland was dead. This was not someone that should be underestimated no matter how mild mannered he looked in the pictures the teaching assistant had forwarded. Tsui was a killer.

“There’s no way you’ll get close enough without him seeing you coming,” said Peio as he handed the binoculars back to Harvath. “We’ll have to wait until dark.”

“I don’t want to wait,” said Nicholas. “I want to go in now.”

“You don’t get a vote,” replied Harvath.

“The hell I don’t. Who’s financing this operation? Who found Tsui?”

“Nicholas,” scolded Peio.

“Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned and am going to sin a lot more before the night is through, so get used to it.”

“I want you to promise me something,” began the priest.

Nicholas held up his hand. “No. No promises.”

Peio looked at Harvath, but Harvath simply raised the binoculars to his eyes and went back to surveilling the chalet. The priest didn’t belong here. He knew better than most what was going to happen once they got hold of Tsui. If he cooperated, things would be relatively easy for him. But if he refused to cooperate, it would get ugly fast. Peio wasn’t toeing the edge of some imaginary line, he had crossed it. He had feet firmly planted in two different worlds and needed to decide which side he wanted to be on.

The men shared the food and water that the priest had purchased and waited for the sun to go down. They made very little small talk.

When it was dark, Harvath pulled the night vision monocular from his pack along with the other items he was going to need.

“Don’t shoot him until I get there unless you absolutely have to. I want him to see my face,” said Nicholas. He turned to look at Peio, but the priest turned away.

Harvath stepped quietly out of the van. It was an overcast, moonless night and it was unseasonably cold, just like it had been back in Spain.
So much for global warming
, he thought as he turned up the collar of his coat.

Using his night vision device to help guide him, he carefully moved from one outcropping of rock to another.

When he got to the weather-beaten cowshed about one hundred meters from the chalet, he stopped and caught his breath. This was the last piece of concealment available until he hit the house. As he traversed the remaining distance, he would be completely in the open.

He would have given his eye teeth for a sniper providing overwatch for him. There was a chance that this quarry had night vision as well and had observed Harvath’s entire approach. He could be inside at this very moment waiting for Harvath to step out into the open, waiting for him to get close enough to mow him down.

Harvath pushed the thought from his mind as he drew his Glock and prepared to run. Counting to three, he was about to charge the house when he heard the scatter of gravel behind him.

He spun just in time to see what looked like two enormous wolves barreling down on top of him. He leapt out of the way as Argos and Draco sped past. He recognized the lump clinging to the bizarre harness on Draco’s back. It was Nicholas; he had jumped the gun and was going to screw everything up.

With nothing he could do to stop him, short of shouting, which would tip Tsui off, Harvath had no choice but to take off after them.

Owning a Caucasian Ovcharka of his own, he knew how fast the breed was, but Nicholas’s dogs were amazing. He was still at least fifty yards behind them when the front door burst open and the shooting began.

CHAPTER 32
 

Tsui was an idiot. He opened the door and silhouetted himself against the light from inside. As Nicholas and his two dogs barreled down upon him, he raised his shotgun and fired.

The odd thing was, the gunfire didn’t come from Tsui. It came from somewhere to his right. There were sharp cracks as rounds splintered the doorframe around Tsui’s head. He ducked just as Argos leapt into the air.

The enormous animal landed right on top of the man and knocked him backward into the chalet. Right behind came Draco and Nicholas.

Harvath hit the side of the structure and pulled up short. He pulled out his night vision device and was just able to catch a flash of a person taking cover nearby. Tsui must have had a sentry of some sort. Whoever it was, he had done a very good job of remaining hidden while Harvath had been doing his surveillance of the chalet. He had never seen the man.

Harvath snuck around the back of the chalet and over some rocks behind it. He tried to make as little noise as possible. He used his night vision device to guide him.

Finally, he located the outline of the shooter, taking cover behind a large store of firewood. Creeping up behind him, Harvath leveled his Glock and said, “Don’t move,” and then repeated himself in French just in case.

Turning his head, the figure replied, “It’s me.”

Harvath recognized the voice immediately. It was Peio.

There was no time to say anything as a scream was raised inside the chalet. It was Tsui, and Harvath knew what was happening. Nicholas was exacting his revenge.

“The balls! The balls!” the Troll was yelling at Argos in Russian. “Bite his balls!”

Tsui was kicking wildly at the dog trying to get him off. His pants were shredded, and the man was bleeding badly.

“Nicholas,” Harvath yelled as he burst into the chalet. “Enough!”

On top of the kitchen table was a terrified Yorkshire terrier with a rhinestone collar and a ridiculous blue bow atop its head yipping wildly. Draco circled the table growling, holding the smaller animal at bay.

The Troll ignored Harvath and taunted his victim as Argos tore into him. “Look at my face, you motherfucker. Look! Look what you have done to me.”

Tsui was screaming for help, the tears streaming down his face as he continued kicking at the dog and thrashed to get away.

Harvath grabbed for Argos and the animal turned and tried to bite him, his snout covered in blood.

“Call him off or I’ll kill him,” Harvath ordered.

The dwarf didn’t comply, so Harvath lifted his pistol and put a round through the wall.

Reluctantly, Nicholas complied. He stepped away from Tsui and called his dogs to him. From the top of the table, the tiny Yorkie jumped down and ran to its injured master.

Peio stepped through the doorway. Harvath spun and leveled his pistol at the man’s head before recognizing it was him again. “Jesus, Padre.”

The priest let the remark slide. He tucked his pistol into his waistband and picked up Tsui’s shotgun from the floor. He checked the breech and then turned it around for Harvath to see. “Empty.”