Foreign Agent

CHAPTER 55

While the operation of the Wasp wasn’t exactly idiot-proof, it had been designed to be as close to it as possible. It made no difference how powerful a weapon was if the operator couldn’t hit his target.

Under the stress of combat, there was a lot that could go wrong. Everything came down to training.

Two of the Hadids’ men had extensive experience firing RPGs. Those were the men Harvath chose for the Wasps.

Normally, a Wasp team was made up of two people — one to load and one to fire. They couldn’t afford to sacrifice that much manpower.

In addition to the two men who would be firing the Wasps, the Hadids’ best sniper would be their loader. After the missiles had been fired, he would take up position behind the single-shot, 50-caliber rifle. One of the Wasp operators would pick up a pair of binoculars and act as his spotter.

The remaining Wasp operator would leave the overwatch position and close on the saltbox, staying back just far enough so that he could ambush any reinforcements that might arrive faster than anticipated.

Harvath was a big believer in the old saying that anything that could go wrong would go wrong, so plan for it.

Proskurov and his security detail wouldn’t be calling the Syrians for help, they’d be calling their own people back at the Russian Embassy. That didn’t mean, though, that the Damascus police and the Syrian military weren’t going to come running as soon as explosions and gunshots were reported. It was going to be like kicking a hornet’s nest.

Now, fully assembled in the abandoned building, Harvath went over the plan, while Mathan translated into Arabic.

Each man was given a printout of Proskurov’s picture. “This is our target,” Harvath said. “He is no good to us dead. Rule number one — do not shoot him. Is that clear?”

All of the men nodded.

Harvath looked at Mathan and said, “Make each one of them say it out loud.”

Mathan did as Harvath instructed. He made each of the eight men they had assembled, plus his brother, pledge not to injure Proskurov.

“Rule number two,” Harvath continued as Mathan translated. “Do not shoot me.”

The men chuckled, but stopped as soon as they saw how serious he was. He didn’t care how long they had been fighting and what kind of combat they had seen. They were not professionals. He hadn’t come this far to be killed by “friendly” fire.

Harvath looked at Mathan, who then looked at each of the men and had them repeat rule number two. When that was done, he dove into the meat of his plan.

The saltbox had a rooftop entry similar to the building they were in now. Harvath expected the door to be bolted shut.

Back at the Hadids’, he had shown the brothers how to superheat candle wax, stir in buckshot, and reload several of their shotgun shells with the mixture to create breaching rounds. Done correctly, a door could be blown right out of its frame.

The plan was for six men to enter via the rooftop stairwell. Harvath and the Hadids would make up one team. Three more men, selected by Thoman, would make up the other.

Harvath and the Hadids were the lead assault force. The second team had only one job — to hold the stairwell and make sure Harvath and the Hadids didn’t get flanked.

The more Harvath thought about it, the more he believed the roof was Plan B for the Russians. If they couldn’t get safely out by the front gates, that was how they’d make their escape. So, as he and the Hadids moved toward the ground floor, he expected them to be coming up — especially considering how they were going to kick everything off.

The first thing they needed to do was deny them access to the armored vehicles. Those things were rolling safe rooms. They were extremely difficult to breach without harming the occupants. And, knowing the Russians, their cars came equipped with some very nasty countermeasures.

That was why Harvath had decided to destroy both vehicles with the Wasps. As soon as he heard the detonations, they would come out from behind cover, hit the door, and make their way down into the saltbox.

On the very off chance that Proskurov’s protective detail interpreted the destruction of their vehicles as the result of rebel mortar fire gone astray, Harvath had the Hadids’ remaining two men posted outside. Once the fireworks started, they had been told to shoot any Russians they saw, except for Proskurov.

With their SUVs destroyed and gunmen outside on the street, the Spetsnaz soldiers would hustle their protectee to the roof. They’d leave a couple of men to engage the shooters to help give the rest of the team a head start, but they would definitely be going to Plan B.

There was just one last thing Harvath needed. Pushing his earpiece in a little further, he asked, “Am I going to have what I need?”

“I think so,” Nicholas replied from back in northern Virginia.

“I think isn’t good enough. I need you to be one hundred percent.”

“I’m at ninety-nine point nine,” the little man said. “Give me a few more seconds.”

Even if Harvath was taking on just one Spetsnaz soldier, he’d still want every advantage he could muster. The only way he was going to win, taking on four of them, was to cheat. That was where Nicholas came in.

“We good?” Harvath asked, prodding him.

“One more second.”

Harvath could picture him in his SCIF back in the United States furiously moving his tiny fingers across his keyboard.

“Got it!” Nicholas finally responded.

“Got it you think? Or you’re sure you’ve got it?”

“Dinner on me if I’m wrong.”

“Easy bet for you,” Harvath replied. “If you’re wrong, I’m not going to be around to collect.”

“Then for your sake, I’d better be right.”

Harvath smiled and shook his head. Graveyard humor. The SEALs had been merciless with jokes. The more intense the situation, the more the jokes flew. It was the same thing with the Army and the Marines, even cops he knew. It was a coping mechanism, a relief valve.

Staring the possibility of death in the eye created more than a little stress. Humor helped get operators through.

With Nicholas online and all of the Hadids’ men fully briefed, they went over everything once more.

They were as ready as they were going to be. Looking at his watch, Harvath then turned to Thoman and Mathan and speaking in a heavy Russian accent said, “Let’s go burn neighbor’s barn.”