State of the Union (38 page)

CORONADO, CALIFORNIA

TWO MONTHS LATER

T
hough it was two months overdue, it was finally the fitting memorial service Maureen Harvath had envisioned to mark the ten years since the passing of her husband, Michael.

The day had been long and emotional. After dropping Mrs. Harvath back at home, Scot, Meg, and Gary returned to the Hotel Del Coronado. While Gary had been given permission by his doctors to travel, he still wasn’t back to full speed and declined joining Scot and Meg for a drink in the bar.

Scot ordered a margarita for himself and a glass of wine for Meg, and when their drinks arrived, they took them outside. The sun was just beginning to set as they took off their shoes and walked down to the Hotel Del’s white sand beach.

As they strolled, Harvath reminisced about his grueling SEAL training, most of which had taken place not very far from where they were right now. Meg put her feet in the surf and got a laugh out of Scot when she commented on how cold the water was. Those had been some of the toughest days of his life, and he remembered at times envying the families and casual tourists strolling along the beach while he and his fellow classmates endured frigid swims, never-ending runs, and being forced to help hold a combat rubber raiding craft above his head until he thought for sure his arms were going to fall off. Looking back on it now he realized that while he was competing against his classmates and most definitely against the elements, more than anything else he had been competing against himself.

He had also come to another realization. Scot Harvath was comfortable with who he was and what he did for a living. Though his father might have had some influence on his becoming a SEAL, it was Scot who had mustered the strength, stamina, and integrity to stay one. Yes, he loved his father very much and he missed him too, but who his father had been had nothing to do with who he was now. The career changes from SEAL to Secret Service and now OIIA had nothing to do with trying to please his deceased father. It was about finding new challenges for himself and being there when his country needed him most. The fact that the highest point in his life had come when he had been saluted by General Venrick, Defense Secretary Hilliman, and President Rutledge two months prior in the White House Situation Room, told him everything he needed to know about himself.

Harvath didn’t require accolades or parties in his honor; that wasn’t why he did what he did. Scot Harvath did what he did out of honor. An honor instilled in him by his father, but an honor which he had come to know, understand and deserve as an adult. While he couldn’t go back and fix the way things had been between them when his father had died, he could appreciate the man for who he was. Scot also came to peace with the fact that he was proud of himself and what he had been able to accomplish and in life that was all that mattered.

As Meg walked beside him, she slipped a reassuring arm around his waist and leaned her head on his shoulder. They had done a lot of talking over the last two months and had both come to the conclusion that slowing down didn’t have to be a bad thing. Scot had the brand new OIIA to help organize, and Meg decided that it would be best for her to develop a client base in DC first, before possibly relocating her office there. For the time being they would coordinate their schedules so they could see each other whenever they could and decided that if things between them were really meant to be, then everything would work out—long-distance relationship and all.

Scot put his arm around Meg, and they watched as the sun slid beneath the horizon and was swallowed up by the deep Pacific Ocean. Neither of them was in a hurry to get back to the hotel. It was their last night together and in the morning they’d be taking two different planes to two different cities.

They dragged their feet in the sand, each silently asking time to slow down, but eventually arrived back where they started. Part of Harvath was tempted to hold onto Meg, keep walking and never look back, but when he saw Gary Lawlor standing on the steps of the Babcock & Story bar, his curiosity got the better of him and he steered Meg away from the beach and toward the hotel.

“I thought Gary turned in early,” said Meg upon seeing Lawlor perched at the top of the stairs.

“Me too,” replied Harvath.

“Maybe he’s changed his mind about having a drink with us.”

“Maybe,” said Scot, though by the look on Gary’s face, he doubted it.

As they approached, Gary put on a smile for Meg’s benefit and asked, “It looked like a beautiful sunset. Did you have a nice walk?”

“We did,” replied Meg, who then asked, “Did you change your mind about having a drink?”

Gary’s smile faded. “Actually, no. I need to talk to Scot.”

Harvath knew it. “What about?”

“I just received a call from DC. We’ve got a situation.”

“What kind of situation?”

“There was a shooting in Paris at the Montparnasse train station. You’ll be briefed en route with all the details. Your plane leaves at midnight.”

Harvath began to probe for more details but was interrupted by Meg as she slipped her arm through his and said to Gary, “I’ll have him packed and downstairs by 10:30.”

“The car’s going to be here for him at ten,” replied Lawlor. Catching the look on Meg’s face, he smiled and said, “but 10:30 will be just fine.”

As I have mentioned in previous acknowledgement sections of my novels, no author is an island unto himself. There is no way I could do what I do without the generous help of others, and I owe the following a deep debt:

First and foremost, I want to thank my beautiful wife,
Trish.
Not only did she support me all the way through the writing of this book, she also gave birth to our first child. Marrying her was the smartest thing I ever did. Honey, thank you for our beautiful baby and for your unwavering support of my career.

Chad Norberg:
Once again, your insight into geopolitics, wide sweeping knowledge of the way the real world works, and your grating sense of humor have all come together to help see me through another odyssey. Thanks for everything.

Chuck Fretwell:
His keen eye for detail and unfailing commitment to the right way of getting things done have proven a godsend to me on more than one occasion. Nothing gets by Chuck and I’m honored to have had so much of his help throughout the writing of this book, both within the Special Operations community and without. Many thanks.

Steven Hoffa:
Hoffa’s help on this book, especially in the area of tradecraft, went beyond measure, and he has my deepest gratitude. Steve, I mean it when I say that I couldn’t have done this without your incredibly generous assistance.

Mike Noell,
US Navy SEAL (retired): In addition to being an invaluable resource for me when it comes to SEAL culture, tactics, etc., I have a tremendous amount of respect for Mike, who has seen more than his fair share of action around the world and now helps to make sure that the good guys have every advantage.

William Kinane,
FBI (retired): Bill served with great distinction as legal attaché at the American embassy in Moscow, establishing the official liaison with the MBD (Ministry of Interior), the national police force of Russia, the FSB, the Prosecutor’s Office, and the Tax Police regarding Organized Crime, Terrorism, Movement of Nuclear Materials and Fraud-Corruption investigation. When it came to Russia, its culture, and the inner workings of its intelligence and military organizations, Bill’s help was invaluable.

Scott Hill, Ph.D.:
Scott, as always, I appreciate not only your friendship, but your willingness to brainstorm both character development and plot points with me. You are one of my key sharpshooters and your aim never faltered.

Gary Penrith,
FBI (retired): Once again, thanks for helping answer all of my questions and of course, thanks to you and Lynne for the ongoing learning process at our annual in Sun Valley.

Colonel Robert Birmingham,
US Army (retired): As former head of the army’s Comanche Helicopter Program, Bob helped out in several key areas and his assistance was very much appreciated.

Frank Gallagher,
FBI (retired): Several FBI elements, including the SIOC and related scenes at headquarters would not have come together in this book if it weren’t for Frank, who is still a gentleman of the highest order.

Gabriel DePlano,
Beretta USA: A great guy who was always there for me when I wanted to know more about Beretta products. Thanks not only for the technical assistance, but also for offering to read relevant sections of the book.

Patrick Doak & David Vennett:
My two Washington insiders who are both serving their country with distinction in two different areas of the government. I owe you both more than a couple of drinks the next time we get together.

Mike McCarey:
Ballistics, body armor, tactical gear, Mike’s knowledge of what the good guys carry and how they use it is bottomless. Thanks for all of your help and the in-depth education.

Richard Levy,
American Airlines: My very good friend whose knowledge of aviation and all things German was once again right on point. The next time I’m in Dallas,
I’m
picking up the tab.

Dan Brown & Kyle Mills:
I couldn’t be happier for your respective successes. Thanks for being there to talk about the process. Your wit and wisdom went further than you can imagine.

I would also like to thank:

“Crazy” Kenny Murray
for his help in the flashbang department.
John Chaffee, Ph.D.
for plugging me in with the portable nuke info.
Charlie Connolly
for his international economic info.
Richard R. Greene,
LD for his O.R. assistance.
Phil Redman
for his communications wisdom. Tom Gosse for the interment lesson, as well as
Bill Fecke
who went the extra mile for me at Congressional Cemetery.
Bob Boettcher
for his help with the Citation X. And finally,
Rudi Asseer
at Farallon for all the DPV help.

In addition to those mentioned above, there are a handful of very key people I couldn’t live without:

Emily Bestler,
Atria Books, who is my superb editor. It hardly seems fair to call what we do together work. Thanks for keeping me on the straight and narrow, and for becoming such a wonderful friend in the process.

Heide Lange,
Sanford J. Greenburger Associates, who is my agent extraordinaire. Thanks not only for feeding me dinner the night the lights went out in NYC, but for every other thing, both great and small, you do for me on a daily basis.

Judith Curr & Louise Burke,
Atria/Pocket Books, who are my publishers both in hardcover and paperback. In addition to having a fabulous agent and editor, as a writer you also need to have terrific publishers who believe in your work and want to do whatever it takes to help you succeed. I am fortunate enough to have that in both Judith and Louise.

Esther Sung and Sarah Branham,
who put in loads of work day in and day out, yet still found time to make some major contributions to the novel. As always, I am deeply appreciative.

Scott Schwimer,
who is equal parts brains and brawn. I sleep a lot sounder at night knowing he is on my side of the table. Thanks for being my guide through the maze of Hollywood.

The Atria/Pocket Sales Force
—Simply put, nobody does it better. Thank you for everything you have done and continue to do for me.

The Atria/Pocket Art Department
—Paolo, et al., thanks once again for the fabulous artwork.

The Atria/Pocket Books Publicity Department
—Radio, TV, print…you always have a million balls in the air and you handle every single one of them masterfully. Many, many thanks.

Finally, I couldn’t close without thanking you, the readers. In the end, all of the hard work is for you. Thank you for your continued support and all of the wonderful letters and emails.

Sincerely,

Brad Thor