Path of the Assassin (21 page)

Harvath awoke early the next morning and decided to go for a run along the lakefront. The weather was cool, with a bit of a chill in the air—unusual for Chicago in August. Most likely, there was a storm moving in. He ran as far as Belmont Harbor and after a few minutes of admiring the yachts and sailboats, turned south and ran back through Lincoln Park. At North Avenue, Harvath could see the restaurant where he and Meg would be having breakfast. Out of habit, he jogged slowly by the eatery, checking everything out, and then ran back to the Ambassador.

After a quick shower, he flipped on Fox News while getting dressed. The lead story was about a suicide bomber who had detonated himself inside a crowded Tel Aviv hotel and killed over twenty-two people, including an Israeli cabinet minister. The al-Aqsa Martyrs Brigades were once again taking credit for the bombing, stating that it was another retaliation for the Hand of God attacks. The violence was continuing to spiral out of control. Many countries were beginning to pull out all nonessential diplomatic personnel from Israel.

Three major U.S. attempts to get the peace process back on track had failed miserably. Harvath could tell the problems in the Middle East were wearing terribly on the president. Shuttle diplomacy wasn’t working either. No matter whom he sent to the region, no matter how many meetings they had, the situation only seemed to worsen. Many in Washington were beginning to believe that some sort of war was inevitable. Smack in the middle of the media maelstrom, though, was Ali Hasan, who continued to call for peace and an end to the violence.

So far, Hasan was still extending an olive branch, which boded well for the pending European peace summit, but Scot dreaded what might happen if events forced Hasan to drop the olive branch and pick up a rifle, and this only made his assignment more critical.

Harvath arrived at Mitchell’s a half hour early and chose a booth in the back corner. A stocky waitress ambled over and when Scot informed her he was waiting for someone to join him, she poured him a cup of mediocre coffee and left him alone. Harvath passed the time by reading a copy of the
Chicago Tribune
.

When Meg arrived, everyone turned toward the door to look at her. Harvath couldn’t tell if it was because she was so attractive or because of all the press she had been receiving from the hijacking. He figured it was probably a combination of both. Though it had only been a few days since he had last seen her, she was even more beautiful than he remembered.

It took Meg a few moments to work her way back to the booth, as she was stopped every three feet and asked for an autograph. When she finally made it to the table, Harvath greeted her with a warm smile. “It seems somebody is quite the celebrity.”

“It isn’t all it’s cracked up to be,” said Meg as she slid into the booth across from him. “I’ve got so many requests for interviews and talk show appearances I’m going to have to actually hire a publicist.”

“Do you know any good ones?”

“One or two,” said Meg, returning his smile as she picked up the menu and was silent.

Harvath could tell that Meg was waiting for him to speak. The niceties were behind them and it was time to get down to business. Scot looked around to make sure no one was eavesdropping before beginning. He remembered the president’s and Gary Lawlor’s instructions to be as candid as possible and said, “You know why I’m here, and all things considered, I appreciate you meeting with me.”

So this really was about what happened in Cairo, period. Meg was disappointed that she had allowed herself to reserve some glimmer of hope. It was against her better judgment, and now she inwardly chastised herself for it. “I’m happy to meet with you,” she said.

“I want you to know that the president himself asked me to come and see you—”

“To change my mind, right?”

“No. I told him that if you had already made up your mind, we should respect that. You’re a busy woman. You’ve got a company to run, commitments. I totally understand where you’re coming from, especially after everything you’ve been through.” He stopped and took a sip of his coffee before continuing. “I came because I want you to know why I’m involved with all of this…”

Harvath hesitated as he searched for the right words. He was about to walk onto the very thin ice of discussing top-secret information with someone who didn’t have proper clearance, but Lawlor and the president had both said they trusted him to say the right thing and so he offered, “Do you remember when the president was kidnapped last winter?”

“Of course. Who wouldn’t? It was everywhere,” replied Meg.

“Well, what wasn’t reported was that I was the leader of the presidential advance team on that trip. The president’s security, as well as that of everyone around him, was my responsibility. The day the kidnapping took place, I was skiing with the president’s daughter and just narrowly saved her life.”

“That was you?”

“Yes, that was me. Out of all the immediate protective detail agents, I was the only one lucky enough to survive.”

“That must have been an incredible thing to deal with.”

“It was and it still is. The men that died were my responsibility. Many of them were good friends of mine. I made them a promise that day that I wouldn’t let their deaths go unpunished.”

“And does the hijacking and the man who attacked me have something to do with the president’s kidnapping?”

“We believe Hashim Nidal is behind the killing of several American operatives involved in the search for the president, as well as several brutal terrorist attacks around the world which have resulted in hundreds more people being killed. He has to be stopped.”

“You mean by killing him?”

“If necessary, yes.”

“Scot, I’m going to ask you a stupid question.”

“Go ahead.”

“Have you ever killed someone?”

Harvath was silent.

“Of course you have. You’ve obviously been trained to do it. I haven’t, and I hate it. I hate that I took someone else’s life.”

“But you did it in self-defense.”

“That still doesn’t make it any easier.”

“Meg, you did what you
had
to do. It was your life or theirs. Don’t you see that?”

Meg turned her eyes away from Harvath and focused on her menu. “You talk like this is something people face on a daily basis.”

“In the world I live in, they do. Listen, there are people like me, or better yet, as much as I don’t care for him, Rick Morrell, who do face the decision to kill or be killed on a frighteningly regular basis. They do it so that the rest of the people in this country can live their lives without ever having to make that kind of decision. In a perfect world, you never would have been drawn into this. Your flight never would have been hijacked and you never would have been called on to make that terrible decision. You made a choice, though, the right choice, and because of it you and hundreds of other people are alive.”

“But it didn’t end there,” said Meg, looking up. “I can’t walk away from it. I can’t just put it behind me like I did the—” She broke off and was silent again.

“The last time?”

Meg locked eyes with Harvath. “What are you talking about?”

“I know, Meg.”

“Know what?”

“I know about the man who attacked you while you were jogging that night in Lincoln Park. I know you fought for your life and as a result, he lost his. I know you didn’t ask to be attacked, just like you didn’t ask to be on a plane that was hijacked. It was late, it was dark, and you must have been scared as hell. Your instincts took over, and because of you, other women were saved from being subjected to the same horror or even worse.”

Meg searched Scot’s eyes for an explanation of how he possessed knowledge of her most closely guarded secret. “I guess I shouldn’t be surprised, but who told you?”

“I can’t say,” he replied.

“Yes, you can. My own government trusts me enough to join the CIA, but not enough to tell me how they discovered something I thought had been buried long ago where no one would ever find it?”

“The government knows nothing about this, and as far as I’m concerned they never have to. It was self-defense.”

“You’re goddamn right it was,” said Meg, the anger evident in her voice. “Do you know what I have had to live with since that attack? Can you imagine the guilt? The fear? Feeling that I was responsible for everything that happened? The only consolation I had was that the man who had attacked me was gone and nobody would ever know what happened that night.”

“Nobody does know.”

“Hello? Are we having the same conversation here? You know.”

“Meg, your secret’s safe with me.”

“My secret is anything but safe. If you know, how many other people know?”

“I promise you. No one else will know. I will personally see to it that the source is plugged up for good, okay? You can trust me.”

“Trust you? I don’t even know you. I don’t know any of you. As a matter of fact, I have half a mind to press charges for going public about me and almost getting me killed at the hospital in Cairo.”

“Wait a second,” said Harvath, a hint of indignation creeping into his voice. “Don’t lump me in with Morrell and the rest of his team. I don’t blame you for being upset—”

“How sweet of you.”

Harvath ignored her sarcasm and continued. “I did not for one moment like how those guys handled things.”

“So why didn’t you do something about it?”

“First of all,” said Harvath leaning across the table, “this has been the CIA’s ball game from the start, and secondly, I did do something—twice!”

“Twice?”

“I can assure you that it’s not standard operating procedure to storm a plane alone, but while those guys were standing there trying to figure out what to do next, I took the initiative and breached that plane from the rear, on my own.”

“I had no idea—”

“I was also the one that rushed to the Anglo-American Hospital the minute I saw the CIA’s hastily conceived press conference. I didn’t like the fact that they were telegraphing your whereabouts to the surviving hijackers. I’m also the guy that told Morrell to jump in the lake when he wanted to question you right after the hijacking and I thought you needed medical attention. So, don’t put me in the same category as those clowns.”

Meg was quiet for a moment as she thought about what Harvath had said to her. “I’m sorry,” she replied. “You really don’t care for them, do you?”

“Not much, but they’re the ones in charge and I have to abide by the president’s wishes.”

“Does that mean they call the shots?”

“In a sense.”

“What’s
that
supposed to mean?”

“It means that the president has asked me to cooperate with them, but if I disagree, I’m doing what I think is best.”

“Why bother working with them at all?” asked Meg as the waitress arrived with their food.

Scot waited for the waitress to disappear again before continuing. “What I want is results. To get those results, I have to work with Morrell and his people. The CIA is the best-equipped agency to handle this operation. The man we’re looking for is very dangerous—”

“No kidding,” said Meg as she speared a piece of melon with her fork.

“That’s right
no kidding
. Meg, this guy has been able to unite numerous terrorist organizations around the world under one banner. Whatever his reach might have been originally, it’s been increased a hundredfold, and so has his capacity to hurt people. I won’t sit back and let another innocent life be lost. This guy has got to be stopped, and if it means I have to work with Rick Morrell and the CIA to do it, then I will.”

“Why do I have to become part of all of this?” asked Meg, though she knew the answer.

“You already are part of it. You’ve seen Hashim Nidal’s face.”

“And I gave the CIA a full description.”

“But that’s not enough. You’re the only person who can positively ID him, Meg.”

“Can’t you just send some people wherever you think he is, do what you have to do, and then let me identify him from photos once it’s all over?”

“I wish we could, but we can’t. For all we know, there might be a hundred or more people with Nidal when we track down his whereabouts. We can’t just fire missiles at them, wait until the smoke clears, and then whip out the camcorder. There could be nothing left of him to ID. What’s more, this is going to be a covert surgical-strike team that needs to get in and out fast. If there were any other way to do it, I wouldn’t be sitting here right now having breakfast with you.”

“Thanks a lot.”

Harvath hadn’t meant to hurt her feelings, but he needed to press on. “We need on-site confirmation of his identity before we take action, and you’re the only person that can do that for us. We have to be absolutely sure that we have got the right man. The CIA can’t do this without you.”

“The CIA almost got me killed. I feel like they used me for bait.”

“You’re right. They did.”

“So I’m nothing more than a means to an end as far as the CIA is concerned?”

“Basically.”

“That’s great. You really know how to inspire confidence in a girl.”

“Meg, what I’m trying to tell you is that you matter to me and you very much matter to the president. It’s not just the CIA that needs you; your country needs you. Right now you’re the only person who can help us nail Hashim Nidal. He’s already put the United States on his list. First he takes care of Israel, and then the terror begins here. It could happen right outside this restaurant, and it will happen if we don’t do something.”

“How do I know I’ll be safe?”

“Because you have one thing tipping the odds dramatically in your favor.”

“What’s that?”

“
Me
. If you agree to come on board, you and I will be joined at the hip. The president knows what an incredible sacrifice this is for you and he wants you to know that every effort is being made to protect you.”

“So, he’s sent his best man to do the job?”

Harvath flashed his most irresistible smile. “I guess you could say that.”

Meg tried to ignore it and changed the subject. “What am I supposed to do about my company? My clients?”