Code of Conduct

CHAPTER 47

Harvath’s trepidation grew with Nicholas’s first SITREP.

Based on the drone’s IR camera, Damien had drastically reduced his security footprint. The night of the dinner party, the drone had picked up at least twelve figures standing guard around the property. Now, all it was seeing was five. Maybe they had put on extra guards during the dinner. Either way, Harvath didn’t like it. It seemed too light. There had to be more of them somewhere.

Rolling up the dirt road, they stopped only long enough to let Palmer bail out with his gear and head into the trees. There was a piece of high ground with an excellent view of the main house and surrounding buildings. If he could make it there, he’d be in a position to offer the team good protection.

The black SUV kept moving until it got to the top of the road and stopped once again. This was as far as it could take them. Harvath, Ashby, and Mordechai would go the rest of the way on foot.

Once out of the vehicle, Harvath radioed Nicholas for an additional SITREP. Nothing had changed. Stepping into the tree line, they moved toward the edge of the property and waited for Palmer to get into place. He had the harder trek because it required him to cross a wide expanse of terrain with no cover. If he got caught out in the open, he would be cut down.

Nicholas, though, was doing everything he could to make sure that didn’t happen. The drone had become a game changer for all their operations. As it flew quietly overhead, you would have had to have known it was on station and be actively looking for it to have had any chance of ever finding it.

Once Palmer was tucked in behind Harvath’s LaRue PredatOBR rifle with its HISS-XLR extended long-range thermal weapon sight and Surefire SOCOM suppressor, he radioed his status to the team. The operation was ready to go to the next phase.

Using hand signals, Harvath directed Ashby and Mordechai to follow him. They wore night vision goggles and carried suppressed H&K submachine guns — Harvath and Ashby the MP7A2, Mordechai the MP5SD.

They stayed in the trees, treading lightly upon the blanket of twigs, branches, and fallen leaves. Harvath moved slowly, purposefully. Part of it was his training; part of it was that he still had visions of the trip wire and crude rebel antipersonnel device he had almost triggered in Congo. He kept his eyes open and his senses alert.

When they arrived parallel to the farm buildings, they stopped and Harvath quietly radioed for another report. Nicholas replied that there was some sort of activity now at the rear of the main house. Two armed men appeared to be loading a truck. The ground in between, though, was all clear.

Once again, Harvath signaled his team to move forward.

It had been decided to cut onto the property at this point, in order to avoid the livestock pens. They didn’t want to spook any of the animals and raise the alarm. Stepping out of the trees, they crossed the open ground quickly and pressed themselves up against the metal skin of an outbuilding. Two hundred yards away, they could see the manor house. None of its lights were on. The guesthouse just beyond it was also dark.

Harvath chose their next position of concealment and signaled for Ashby to head for it while he covered her. Then he sent Mordechai. When Ashby signaled that she was ready to cover him, he followed.

Structure by structure, they moved ever closer to the house until they could hear the sounds of men loading the truck in back.

According to Nicholas, two more armed men had just joined the party. They were loading supplies into the truck, utilizing a service entrance through the hillside beneath the house.

Thirty yards away was a stack of discarded pallets. They were halfway behind the house and would not only provide concealment, but looked like they would provide an excellent line of sight as well.

Harvath’s only problem was that if bullets started flying, it would be like hiding behind a wall of toothpicks. Unfortunately, they didn’t have any choice. After scanning the area, Harvath sent Ashby running toward it.

As soon as she was there, she took a moment to look around and then waved Mordechai over. Once he was in place, it was Harvath’s turn.

Joining them behind the pallets, Harvath dropped to the prone position and tried to peer through the jumble of slats to see what was happening at the truck. All he could see were tires, a bit of the undercarriage, and light spilling from the entrance. As he prepared to roll over onto his left side and peek around the pile, they heard a woman’s scream from somewhere inside the tunnel.

Mordechai tried to leap to his feet, but Ashby was faster. Grabbing hold of him, she yanked him back down.

“Let go of me,” he whispered. “We have to move, now.”

Placing her index finger against her lips, she warned him to be quiet.

Harvath waited until Mordechai had calmed down, and then rolled out from behind the pallets onto his left side.

Boxes had been stacked five high and three deep near the entrance. What was in them, though, he had no idea.

He was preparing to roll out a little bit more when he heard a voice from behind.

“Stop!” the man shouted.

Harvath looked over his shoulder just in time to see the man — one of Damien’s security detail — take a round through his head courtesy of Chase Palmer.

There was a spray of blood, bone, and brain matter. It was one hell of a way to start a gunfight.

The man’s shout immediately drew the attention of his colleagues back by the truck, who swung their weapons around on their slings and brought them up to fire. Harvath and Ashby, though, were faster.

Their shots happened in unison. There was a quick pop, followed by an even faster pop, pop. One shot to the head, two to the chest, and each man fell to the ground.

“Move, move, move,” Harvath ordered as he jumped to his feet and the team advanced on the truck.

When another one of the security agents stuck his head out of the entrance, they showered him with rounds.

As soon as they got to the truck, Harvath and Ashby took cover, but Mordechai kept going. Harvath yelled for him to stop, but he didn’t listen.

Charging the service entrance, he stepped off his line of attack, just in time to miss a hail of bullets that came whizzing past. When the same shooter as before peeked back out, Mordechai was ready for him and took him down with shots through his mouth and left eye. What he wasn’t ready for was the man’s colleague.

Mordechai was moving too fast. He couldn’t keep his balance and bring his weapon to bear. He tried to pivot, but as he did, he stumbled and went down hard. It was all the advantage the shooter needed.

Sweeping his weapon down toward the fallen Israeli, the security operative began to apply pressure to his trigger. As he did, his head and chest exploded when Harvath stepped out from behind the truck and double-tapped him.

Ashby raced forward to guard the entrance as Harvath helped Mordechai off the ground.

“Are you okay? Can you fight?”

The Israeli nodded and got to his feet.

“Don’t do that again,” Harvath admonished. “Stick with the plan.”

Before Mordechai could respond, they heard Nicholas’s voice over the radio. “You’re about to have company. The guards from the front gate are headed your way, fast. They’re in an open-air side-by-side.”

Harvath wasn’t surprised. They had heard the gunfire or someone had called down for reinforcements.

Hailing Palmer, he asked, “Do you see them yet?”

“No, not yet. Stand by.”

Seconds later, Palmer said, “I’ve got them.”

“Take the shot.”

Exhaling, he pressed his trigger and then acquiring his second target placed his TReMoR reticle on Number Two’s head and pressed the trigger again.

As he watched the side-by-side careen off the drive and slam into a tree, he said over the radio, “All clear. You’re good to go.”

“Let’s move,” said Harvath.

The tunnel had a vaulted ceiling and was paved with bricks in a herringbone pattern. Along the walls were sconces that resembled lanterns and which dimly lit the passage via natural gas.

Up ahead was a hand truck that had been abandoned, ostensibly by one of the two dead men at the entrance who had rushed to the fight. On it were three cases of military meals-ready-to-eat, atop two cases of French wine. Either Damien’s people were cleaning him out, or packing him up. Regardless, someone had decided to bug out.

Harvath hated tunnels. They were death traps for a whole host of reasons, not the least of which was the lack of cover and the fact that they funneled bullets right at you. He moved Ashby and Mordechai forward as quickly as he could.

At the end of the passageway was a staircase with a door on either side. The door on the right had a heavy lock on it, but had been left ajar. Harvath signaled for Ashby to join him and for Mordechai to move to the side and watch their backs in case anyone came down the passage.

Pressed up against the brick wall, Harvath counted down from three and then used the toe of his boot to nudge the door the rest of the way open. With their weapons up and ready, they button-hooked into the room.

It was a long storeroom, stacked floor to ceiling with shelving. In addition to cases of wine and MREs, there were enormous cans of vegetables, fruit, soup, and stew. There was coffee, cleaning products, toilet paper, and soap. Batteries, lightbulbs, flashlights, and glow sticks took up shelf after shelf, while vitamins, medical supplies, sleeping bags, and bottled water took up still more. It was like walking into a wholesale warehouse club.

Carefully, they moved up and down the narrow aisles and then explored two walk-in freezers. There was a ton of food, but no people. Wherever the scream had come from, it hadn’t been here.

Harvath was about to radio Mordechai that they were coming out, when he heard what sounded like a door being kicked in, followed by the sound of gunfire.

Shit, the Israeli had hit the other room by himself!

Retreating from the storeroom, Harvath and Ashby raced to join Mordechai, who had gone through the other door so hard, he had knocked it halfway off its hinges.

The sound of gunfire reverberating through the brick passageway was deafening.

When he leaned against the wall, only a sliver of the other room was visible through the doorway, but it was enough. Harvath could see that Mordechai had been shot and was pinned down behind a workbench of some sort.

The shots kept coming, one after another. Whoever it was, they weren’t going to stop until they killed him.

Reaching for the grab tab on his vest, he pulled out a flashbang and held it so Ashby could see it and know what he was about to do. As soon as she nodded, he pulled the pin and tossed it into the room.

There was a brilliant white flash and a concussive boom!

Harvath and Ashby swept into the room. The instant he saw the shooter, he fired.

Two rounds hit center mass right around the man’s sternum. Two additional rounds penetrated just beneath the man’s nose and another at the bridge of his nose between his eyes. His weapon clattered to the floor along with his lifeless body.

Harvath and Ashby ignored Mordechai and kept moving through the room looking for threats.

It was a mechanical room with an old-fashioned boiler and plenty of pipes and other pieces of equipment to hide behind. Near the furnace, they found Helena.

She was naked and had been badly beaten. She was lying atop an old mattress, with both eyes swollen shut, and handcuffed to the wall. There was a soldering iron nearby and her body showed a myriad of burn marks.

After clearing the rest of the room, Ashby rushed to assist Helena while Harvath moved to help Mordechai.

“How bad?” he asked, as he moved him into a sitting position.

“Did you find Helena?”

“We found her. She’s alive. Sloane’s with her.”

“I need to see her,” the Israeli replied.

“In a minute. How bad are you hit?”

“I can’t move my left arm.”

Harvath radioed for Chase as he tore Mordechai’s shirt open and examined his wounds. He had taken two rounds to his shoulder, one of them shattering his clavicle.

Opening a dressing, he laid it against his shoulder and placed Bentzi’s right hand against it to help apply pressure. The man winced from the pain.

“You took two rounds,” said Harvath. “Your collarbone is broken. I know it hurts, but we need to stop the bleeding.”

When Chase appeared in the doorway, Harvath told him to swap his LaRue for Mordechai’s smaller MP5. They needed to clear the rest of the house. If Damien was here, Harvath would find him.

After double-checking that Bentzi’s Glock had a round in the chamber, Harvath set the pistol in the man’s lap.

“If anyone other than us comes through that door,” he said, “shoot them.”

With that, he and Palmer headed for the stairs.