Spymaster

CHAPTER 48

As far as beach houses went, the tiny rental near the village of Nyhamn was not at all what Harvath had expected.

When the sun was up, it probably had a million-dollar view of the ocean. But in the dark, it resembled a double-wide trailer with a long, covered porch and a smattering of cheap outdoor furniture.

By the time Chief Inspector Nyström got to the rendezvous location, Haney had already done multiple drone passes over the target.

“What is the situation?” Nyström said as he climbed out of Johansson’s squad car, dressed in a patrolman’s uniform.

“All quiet,” Haney replied. “No movement inside.”

“Where are your people?”

Using a still from the drone, Harvath marked the locations on his tablet and then asked, “Were you able to get what I asked for?”

Nyström tilted his head toward the backseat of the cruiser.

Harvath opened the door and removed a duffle bag. Dropping it on the lid of the trunk, he unzipped it and inventoried the contents. There was a regulation police uniform, boots, duty belt, cap, and jacket. There was also body armor.

“Were you able to get the other item?”

He nodded and knocked on the side of the trunk.

Harvath cleared his gear off the lid and opened it. He ignored Johansson, who was still lying inside, and grabbed the plastic case.

The Chief Inspector still hadn’t decided what to do with Johansson. Fortunately, Johansson was off-duty when Harvath caught him. Neither he nor his patrol car, which was a take-home vehicle, would be missed until tomorrow night.

Closing the lid, Harvath put the case on the trunk and opened it up. Inside was a tear gas launcher with several canisters.

“I am hoping we don’t need that,” said Nyström.

“Me too,” replied Harvath. Latching the case, he handed it to Haney and told him, “Get this to Sloane and then hustle back.”

The Marine accepted the case and struck off into the pines on the side of the road, disappearing into a gathering mist.

“What do we know about the nearby houses?” the Chief Inspector asked.

Picking up his tablet from where he had laid it on the roof of the patrol vehicle, Harvath pulled up another photo. “There are four of them. As far as we can tell, they’re all empty. But, if we did have to go hot and a round over-penetrated and exited our target house, there’s a possibility it could enter any one of them.”

“Based on your conversation with Martin Ingesson, I overheard that you were a Navy SEAL?”

Harvath nodded.

“I assume you were taught to control your rounds?”

“It’s not my rounds I’m worried about,” he replied. “Dominik Gashi, or whatever his real name is, may have Sparrman’s Spetsnaz operatives in there. It doesn’t take much to get those boys into a gunfight. And when they’re triggered, they don’t give a damn where their rounds go.”

Nyström took one of his long, pregnant pauses as he tried to figure out the best course forward. “How do you know the other houses aren’t occupied?”

“No lights on inside, no cars outside. We looked through the windows using IR and thermal.”

“There’s no cars outside the target house either.”

“True, but that could be for several reasons. At the cabin Ingesson sent us to, we found an olive Mercedes SUV, under a tarp. If you reexamine Lars Lund’s vehicle back at the wrecking yard, you should see damage to the left rear quarter panel that contains traces of the same paint.”

“So you did notice something when you examined the car.”

“I notice lots of things,” said Harvath. “It’s part of my job. It wasn’t worth mentioning at the time. Now it is.”

“Fair enough. What other reasons might there not be any cars near the target house?”

“The house may have been a fallback location for Gashi and the Spetsnaz. If they’re hiding here, they wouldn’t want to give their presence away.

“I disabled their two vehicles in Visby. If they got them working again, maybe they drove here and hid them. They also could have Ubered to a location nearby and hiked the rest of the way in. Same with Gashi.”

It made sense to Nyström, and he nodded. “Before we do anything, I have to check the nearby houses.”

“I just told you they’re empty.”

The Chief Inspector held up his hand. “And I’m the one who might have to answer to a police review board at some point. Change clothes. While you do, I’ll check the houses for myself.”

Reluctantly, Harvath agreed. He waited for Haney to reappear and then sent the two men off together.

Opening the trunk of the car, he removed Johansson’s hood and peeled the duct tape from his mouth.

“Are you thirsty?” he asked.

The man nodded.

Nyström had some water bottles in a crate in the trunk. Grabbing the corrupt cop by his tunic, Harvath lifted him into a kneeling position. Then, opening one of the bottles, he tilted it so that he could drink. Once Johansson had had enough, Harvath screwed the cap back on the bottle and set it back down in the crate with the others.

“Thank you,” said Johansson. “May I urinate?”

There was a time in Harvath’s past where he probably would have vented his anger at the corrupt cop by slamming the lid down on the man’s head. Instead, he looked down at him and said, “Be my guest.”

As he began to object, Harvath tore off a new piece of duct tape, slapped it across his mouth, and put the hood back over his head.

Closing the lid, he picked up the duffle bag, dropped it on the trunk, and began to gear up.

By the time Nyström and Haney returned, Harvath looked like a model Swedish policeman.

The uniform fit so well, he could have been posing for officer of the month, or the much maligned, yet extremely popular Swedish policeman’s calendar.

“Put your coat on,” ordered Nyström. Then pointing at Harvath’s Rattler, added, “Sidearm only. In its holster. Nice and easy. We’re just two cops responding to a suspicious activity call.”

Harvath appreciated the man’s attention to detail, but he hadn’t intended to bring the Rattler. No need to tip Dominik Gashi that anything was out of the ordinary.

Haney did a final team radio check, and then flashed a thumbs-up. They were all ready to go.

Harvath looked at the Chief Inspector and said, “Just two cops, responding to a suspicious activity call. A casual knock and talk.”