Black List

CHAPTER 66

Mike Strieber was a godsend. Flying people back at night, he had taken the initiative to bring along the new rifle Rhodes was using, as well as night vision equipment for Harvath. It was part of the multiple Storm cases’ worth of gear Harvath, Casey, and Rhodes had loaded into the Suburban before leaving D.C. to meet up with Reed Carlton. Now, as Harvath made his way through the darkness of the wooded, northern edge of the ATS estate, he was very appreciative.

Schroeder had sketched out what he knew about the estate, but it was Vignon, the security chief, who really provided them with the best overall view. Of course, it was under extreme duress, but there was enough there to help in planning a halfway decent assault.

Most helpful were the anticipated personnel levels, what their backgrounds were, and how likely they were to engage an intruder they viewed as a threat. Vignon didn’t mince words, especially when it came to the last issue. The estate security agents were highly skilled and were authorized to kill any hostile intruders. As Harvath wasn’t pedaling up on a bike selling magazine subscriptions, he had no question which category he’d be placed in if they caught him. The key was not to get caught.

As he picked his way through the woods, Riley Turner popped into his mind. He couldn’t allow himself to think about her, not now. He needed to focus. Placing her back inside the iron box he kept in that far, dusty corner of his mind, he slammed the lid shut and locked it. There’d be time to come to terms with Riley’s death; now wasn’t it. Shifting his attention to what lay ahead of him, he went back over everything he had been told about the ATS compound.

According to Vignon, they didn’t use dogs on the estate. That was a big relief. But according to Schroeder, and this was seconded by Vignon, they did use multiple layers of highly sensitive intrusion detection systems. Luckily, Schroeder had helped install and centralize them. From his loft back in D.C., with Nicholas supervising his every move, Schroeder was able to create dead zones through which Harvath could slip and approach the main building. He also helped their radios pierce the signals blackout that normally blanketed the estate.

When Harvath came across the first guard patrol, right about the distance Vignon had assured him they would be, he quietly alerted Rhodes to their position. “Overwatch. This is Norseman. Do you copy? Over.”

“This is Overwatch,” she replied. “I copy you, Norseman. Over.”

“I’ve got two guards on foot just east of my position. Can you see them? Over.”

“Negative, Norseman. Stand by.”

Seconds passed before Rhodes came back over Harvath’s earpiece and said. “Norseman, this is Overwatch. I have them now. Over.”

Mike Strieber had brought along one of his high-end M4-style rifles, which had been zeroed in with a powerful night vision scope. It wasn’t lost on Harvath that he was launching an operation very similar to the one ATS had launched against him in Texas. Reflecting on this, he had warned Rhodes to be careful not to get ambushed.

While Rhodes covered Harvath’s approach from the rear of the property, Casey was coming at the property from the front. Her job was to be there and create a diversion if necessary to draw attention away from any escape Harvath might need to make.

It was a good night for an assault; cold with thick cloud cover. The wind rattled the branches of the trees and sent patches of leaves skittering across the ground. It was the kind of night where senses got dulled standing a security post. The more the wind blew, the more apt you were to attribute things to it. A lot of second-guessing happened on nights like this, and Harvath was counting on that.

Staying in the trees, he moved southeast. The idea was to limit his time in open terrain as much as possible. The problem was that sweeping expanses of manicured lawns predominantly surrounded the main house. It was only by coming up on it at an angle, where the support buildings were, that an intruder had any chance of cover. ATS knew this too, though, and had focused heavily on defending this approach. For Harvath, it wasn’t the technology being employed that was a problem, it was the amount of personnel.

One of the advantages he had on his side was surprise. Another was that none of the men standing guard tonight had expected to do so. Middleton’s decision to rush them to the estate had been very last-minute. As a result, most of them were probably tired and more than a little bit punchy. That didn’t mean, though, that they weren’t a threat. Harvath could last longer than most without sleeping. And while he didn’t like it, it didn’t lessen how deadly he was. In fact, it might actually heighten it, as lack of sleep often put him in a bad mood.

What also put him in a bad mood were terrorists, and that was exactly how he saw Middleton and everyone else associated with ATS. Spouses and family members aside, there were no innocents on this property tonight. That thought was at the forefront of his mind as he came to the edge of the trees, one hundred yards from the beginning of the support buildings.

From where he crouched, he could see another patrol of two men. Hailing Rhodes again, he said, “Overwatch. This is Norseman. Do you copy? Over.”

“Norseman, this is Overwatch. I copy. Over.”

“I have another patrol. Two guards on my side of the long utility shed. Do you have eyes on? Over.”

“Roger that, Norseman. Overwatch has eyes on. Two guards, north side of the utility shed. Over.”

“Do you see anything else? Over.”

“Negative, Norseman. There was movement near the stables, possibly another patrol, but it has moved on. You’re good to go. Over.”

“Roger that,” replied Harvath. “Stand by.”

He was carrying a suppressed, hyperaccurate short-barreled OBR rifle chambered in 5.56. Mounted to the top was an EOTech XPS3 holographic weapon sight and behind it a PVS-14 night vision monocular. With it, Harvath had been scanning the darkness for threats, and that was how he had picked up the first two patrols. Steadying his breathing, he peered through the optics once more, scanned the area, and then said over his radio, “Overwatch, this is Norseman. You are clear to fire at utility shed guards. Over.”

“Roger that, Norseman. Overwatch is cleared hot. Engaging guards on north side of utility shed in three… two… one…”

Harvath watched as the first sentry was shot in the head, followed immediately by the second. Before either of the bodies had hit the ground, he had already taken off running.

It was one of the fastest one-hundred-yard dashes he had ever run. Skidding to a stop in the loose gravel and dirt behind the utility shed, he almost lost his balance.

After sweeping the area for threats, he dragged the first sentry and then the second closer to the shed where their bodies would be harder to spot in the shadow of the building.

He was now in an area where it would be difficult for Rhodes to cover him. There were too many buildings and miscellaneous pieces of equipment he would be using for cover that would impede her view. Only in the final sprint to the house would she be able to see him again. “Overwatch to Norseman. Good luck. Overwatch out.”

Harvath took a deep breath, let it out, and then listened. The wind was really blowing and he thanked God again that they weren’t using dogs. They would have smelled him coming from a mile away, especially now that he had begun sweating.

Keeping his back against the wall of the utility shed, he slid down to the far corner. Readying his weapon, he counted to three and poked around the corner ready to fire. There was no one there. Quietly, he made his way up the small hill, using the shed to hide him from view of the main house. So far, so good.

At the end of the shed, there was an open area about forty yards long before the next building. Parked two-thirds of the way between was one of the estate’s utility vehicles. After using the night vision device to scan for threats, Harvath took off for it.

Coming to another abrupt stop, he crouched behind the engine block and listened. There was nothing he could discern, other than the wind.

Peeking around the front of the vehicle, he scanned for threats with his weapon site and, seeing nothing, stood up and took off running once more.

The next building was the stables. This was where Rhodes had said she had seen movement. Moving around the back of the structure, Harvath hugged the outer stable wall.

Halfway up, his foot caught on the edge of something and he almost tripped, but was able to recover his balance. No sooner had he done so than two armed men appeared. They were talking to each other and were obviously taken by surprise. Before they could get their weapons up and fully on target, Harvath depressed his trigger dropping the first man and then shifted to the second and did the same.

“Guards down,” he whispered over his radio as he crept toward the riding arena. Beyond the arena was a long row of garages and after that, the final sprint to the house.

Harvath moved past the riding arena and made it behind the garages without any further incident. He now only had one last open area to cover, which they had code-named “the bridge,” to get to the main house.

“Norseman to Overwatch. Do you copy? Over?”

“Roger that, Norseman. I copy. Over.”

“Ready to cross the bridge. How does everything look? Over.”

“A team just moved through. You should hit it before they come back. Over.”

“Roger that,” replied Harvath. “Stand by.” He swept the area with his weapon, took three deep breaths, and then said, “Now!”

Springing from behind the garages, he ran for the back of the house. It was another hundred-yard dash, and then some. He ran with all the speed he could summon.

He was less than halfway there when he caught movement out of the corner of his left eye. There were two more sentries, and there was no way he’d be able to spin and engage them in time.