Full Black

CHAPTER 56

As Harvath raced toward the Tom Bradley Terminal, Nicholas informed him that the fight was over. The LAPD and DHS operators had been able to neutralize the other VBIEDs. All of the terrorists were dead. All, that is, except for Tariq Sarhan, who was still unconscious in the Escalade’s backseat.

The word had also already gone out to airports across the country to expect similar attacks. Two had already been uncovered and prevented. Nicholas had been right when he had stated that the attacks they had stopped only months before were just the precursor to a tidal wave set to crash down on the United States. Every time they faced down an attack, more popped up. Where would it end?

Harvath returned to the parking structure and located his rental car. After wrapping Sarhan’s knee in a hillbilly bandage, he dumped him in the trunk. As he got into his car, he told Nicholas to make sure to erase any of the airport’s CCTV footage of him.

As he drove out of the airport, a tidal wave of emergency vehicles rushed past him going in the opposite direction. They served as a reminder of the need to arrange for transport for himself and Sarhan. He asked Nicholas to get Carlton on the line. When he came on, Harvath said, “How soon until we can get a Sentinel jet out here to pick us up?”

“I’ll look into it now,” replied the Old Man. “How bad is his condition?”

“He tried to suck on a cigarette lighter and also managed to Tase himself before shooting himself in the knee, but he’ll live.”

“Understood. We’ll figure out how close the nearest aircraft is and then we’ll decide on an airport. LAX has been shut down and probably won’t reopen for a few days.”

“We’re also going to need someone to sanitize the house I was using,” said Harvath. “I left all the surveillance gear in there.”

“We’ll have someone handle it.”

“You should have a team go through Sarhan’s house as well.”

“We’ll get on that, too,” replied Carlton, who then shifted gears. “In the meantime, I’m assuming you took an unattributable phone with you?”

“Of course I did. Why?”

“You’ve had two urgent calls from a man named Hank McBride.”

Harvath recognized the name immediately. Hank had been one of his father’s SEAL team buddies who used to come by the house and check on things when Harvath was a kid and his father was deployed. He was still very close with Harvath’s mom and his call could only mean one thing. “Did he say what it was about?”

“Negative. He just left a number and asked you to call him as soon as possible.”

Harvath took the number, told Carlton he would call him back, and made for the entrance to the 405 freeway headed south. His mother still lived on Coronado Island across the bay from San Diego.

Speeding through an intersection and a light that had already turned red, Harvath narrowly missed being hit by two cars as he dialed Hank McBride’s number.

“This is Hank,” the old SEAL said as he answered the call.

“Hank, it’s Scot,” Harvath replied. “What’s going on with my mom?”

“Your mom’s fine, relax.”

“What happened?”

“Nothing, I didn’t call about your mom. I need a favor.”

Harvath backed off his speed. “Mom’s okay?”

“She’s fine,” insisted McBride. “I saw her a couple of days ago when I was down her way. Actually, she looks great.”

Thank God, he thought as his heart rate began to lower. “Hank, I’m in the middle of an assignment right now. I’m going to have to call you back.”

“When?”

“I don’t know,” said Harvath. “I’ll get back to you.”

The old SEAL wasn’t going to take no for an answer. “Scot, I wouldn’t have tracked you down and left two messages at your office if it wasn’t important.”

Already navigating the freeway on ramp, Harvath decided to give him until the next exit to explain what he wanted. “What do you need, Hank?”

“It’s not for me. It’s for a friend of mine.”

Having worked for a prior president, Harvath was used to people reaching out to him for help with things in D.C. “I can save you some time. I’ve got no pull with the current administration.”

“That’s not what this is about.”

“I don’t want to be rude, Hank, but you need to get to the point. I’m really busy right now.”

Hank didn’t waste any more time. “Do you know who Larry Salomon is?”

“The movie producer? Of course I do.”

“Someone sent a Spetsnaz team to whack him.”

“When?” replied Harvath.

“The night before last,” said Hank. “It was all over the news. At least it was until those fuckers blew up all of those theaters. My God, what are they going to do next?”

“Turn on your TV. They just hit LAX.”

“They what?”

“That’s part of why I’m so busy right now, Hank. So is Salomon dead?”

The old SEAL, who hesitated as he tried to flip his TV on in the background, finally said, “The technical adviser on all his films is a former Unit guy named Luke Ralston. He’s a pal of mine and he was with Salomon when he came home and found those guys. The two of them killed the entire Spetsnaz team.”

“Salomon and the guy from the Unit?”

“Yeah, it’s a long story.”

“Which they probably ought to be telling the police.”

“That’s just it,” said Hank. “They can’t. At least not yet. But here’s the good part. Ralston knows who helped coordinate the hit.”

“And he’s not talking to the police?” replied Harvath. “Hank, let me give you a piece of advice. Steer clear of this entire thing. If they can’t take this to the cops, there’s something very wrong.”

“That’s why I’m trying to help them, Junior.”

Harvath hadn’t had McBride call him Junior since he was a kid and had gotten in trouble for fighting back when he was in school. The tone no longer intimidated him, but it did catch his attention.

“So what is it you want from me?” asked Harvath.

“All my contacts, and all Luke’s, for that matter, are pretty much in the Special Operations community. We don’t know many secret squirrel types, at least none that we trust. You, on the other hand, are very well plugged in.”

“I know some people in Russian intelligence, if that would help, but it’s going to have to wait until-”

“No,” interrupted McBride. “We already crossed that bridge. The man who brought the talent into L.A. for the hit was a former FSB operative based here. The man who ordered the hit, though, was British intelligence.”

“British intelligence?”

“MI5, to be exact.”

Hank had to have gotten his facts wrong. “Why would somebody from Britain’s domestic intelligence service want to splash a Hollywood movie producer?”

“That’s what we need to figure out. Do you have any contacts you could reach out to?”

Harvath did. In fact he’d just helped MI5 and Scotland Yard take down a large terror cell in London and prevent a massive attack. “I’ve got a guy I can ask. What’s the name of this MI5 operative you think was behind the attack?”

When McBride said the name Harvath couldn’t believe his ears.

There was such a long pause, the old SEAL thought they might have gotten cut off. “Are you still there?”

“I’m still here,” replied Harvath.

“Can you help with this Robert Ashford character or what?”

“This is a very serious accusation. You’re going to need proof. Lots of it.”

“We’ve got proof,” said Hank. “You sound different all of a sudden. Why?”

Harvath ignored the question. “I want to see the proof you have.”

“You’re welcome to it. But it’s not something I can just put in the mail.”

“You don’t need to. I’ll come to you.”

“You’re here?” said McBride. “California?”

“I’m on the 405 right now. I don’t have my regular cell with me, so give me your address again.”

Hank did, and after Harvath told him to sit tight, not to move, and not to talk to anyone else, he ended the call and picked up his speed once more.

He thought about calling the Old Man. Carlton, after all, was the one who had introduced him to Ashford. But as quickly as the idea had materialized in Harvath’s mind, he dismissed it.

Robert Ashford had been read into their operational plans in Yemen. The Old Man had done it as a courtesy. Aazim Aleem was a British citizen and Ashford had been especially helpful to the Carlton Group in London.

Harvath was beginning to wonder, though, if Ashford could have been the reason the Yemen op had gone sideways. And until he had a firm handle on what the hell was going on, he wasn’t going to be making any phone calls.