Black List

CHAPTER 48

McGreevy pointed at one of the chairs in front of his desk and told Harvath to take a seat. “Your three minutes start now.”

Harvath decided to get right to the point. “Six days ago, Riley Turner was shot and killed in Paris.”

“Let’s assume for a moment that I even knew who this Riley Turner was and that I’d be interested in this information. Why would I believe you?”

“Because I was there,” said Harvath, taking note once again of another tell when the man mentioned Riley by name.

“Were you the one who shot her?”

“No, but I killed the men who did.”

“Men?” McGreevy repeated.

Harvath nodded. “Yes. There were four of them; a wet work team.”

“And not only can you identify a wet work team, but you managed somehow to kill all four of them?”

“Yes.”

“Your name isn’t Kevin Kirk, is it?”

“No, it’s not.”

“You’re not going to tell me who you are, are you?”

Harvath shook his head. “My call sign is Norseman. How about that?”

“I’ve never heard of you,” McGreevy countered.

Harvath had anticipated the man’s reaction and slid Mike Strieber’s cell phone from his pocket. The SIM card had been removed and its memory card replaced with the card Harvath had been carrying in Paris. Clicking on the photo of Riley, he handed the phone over to McGreevy.

“Jesus,” he said, all pretense of not knowing her now gone. “Who the hell did this?”

“That’s what I was hoping you could tell me,” Harvath replied as he placed his finger on the phone’s screen and swiped to the next photo. “I’ve got pictures of each of the shooters.”

He watched as McGreevy looked at each photo and then went back and looked at all of them again. If he recognized any of the men, he was very good at hiding it. Handing the phone back, he said, “Sorry. I can’t help you.”

“I think you can, and I need you to do me a favor.”

“You’ve got pretty big balls to come in here, show me pictures like that, and ask me for a favor.”

Harvath understood where the man was coming from. “I get it. You don’t know me. You did know Riley Turner, though.”

The man began to protest, but Harvath held up his hand to stop him. “For the record, you haven’t admitted anything. I’m coming to my own conclusions, which is something I need you to do as well.”

“Such as?”

“We’ve already passed the three-minute mark and I’m still here, so I’m guessing you’ve grasped that I’m the real deal. What you haven’t made up your mind about is if I’m one of the good guys or one of the bad guys.”

McGreevy smiled. “And I suppose you’re going to tell me you’re one of the good guys and that I should trust you.”

“No,” said Harvath, and then dropped the name of another Athena Team member: “Gretchen Casey will tell you.”

Instantly, the smile fell from the man’s face. “Who the fuck are you?” he demanded.

“You’ve already got my call sign. Call Casey. If you can’t reach her, try Julie Ericsson, Megan Rhodes, or Alex Cooper.”

McGreevy looked like someone had just walked up and hit him with a pipe. The man sitting across from him had just rattled off the names of four operators from one of the most clandestine programs in the history of the United States military. “I don’t know any of those people, and if I did, why would I tell you? You won’t even give me your real name.”

“For good reason,” Harvath replied. “Whoever is responsible for Riley Turner’s death is trying to kill me. And for all I know, Casey, Ericsson, Rhodes, and Cooper may also be on their list. That’s why I need to talk to them.”

The man leaned back in his chair and exhaled. Harvath could sense the wheels spinning in his mind. “I know what you’re thinking,” he said.

McGreevy cocked an eyebrow at him. “Oh, you do. What’s that?”

“I think you’re trying to make up your mind. I think professionally you’re obligated to pick up that phone and place a call to someone back at the Unit. I understand that. For all intents and purposes, you need to assume I’m a threat and that I am here with bad intentions. You don’t want to be the guy who sells anybody out. That’s not how it works. We all cover each other’s backs.”

“We?”

Harvath nodded. “I’ve been on multiple assignments with those women. They know me. They’ll vouch for me. You only need to contact one of them, describe me to her, give her my call sign, or put me on the phone, and everything will be good. To do that, though, means circumventing your chain of command and doing me, a complete stranger, a favor.”

“You’re right, it would be a big favor, and I don’t even do little favors for people I don’t know.”

“I think in my case you’re going to make an exception.”

“Why is that?”

Harvath kept a close eye on the man’s face as he prepared to drop a final name on him. Over the summer, six Athena Project members had been tasked to work with him in chasing down a deadly terror ring. As they narrowed in on a team of suicide bombers, one had detonated. Rubble was strewn everywhere and the building he’d been in front of began to collapse.

Harvath held up his hands and showed them to McGreevy. “I dug Nikki Rodriguez out of that building in Amsterdam with my own hands. And as I was pulling her out, she was pulling somebody else out, even though she had a piece of metal sticking through her chest that had collapsed her right lung.”

McGreevy pinched the bridge of his nose. “Where’d you go after that?”

“We followed the terror cell back here to the States.”

“Where specifically?”

“Chicago.”

“Why wouldn’t you want me to go to the top with this?” McGreevy asked. “If your story checks out, I’m sure they’ll put you in touch with whomever you want. Hell, they might even be able to help you, but I have to call this in.”

Harvath had him. He knew it. He just needed to pull him the rest of the way into his camp. All McGreevy needed was the right reason, which was what Harvath gave him, “What if making that call sets off a chain reaction that puts Casey, or all of them in even greater danger? Shouldn’t they be allowed to decide what the next step should be?”