The Athena Project

CHAPTER 12

ADRIATIC SEA

Where are you going to interrogate Bianchi?” asked Julie Ericsson after they had gathered back up on the bridge.

Riley had remained below to keep an eye on and assess the prisoner. He was strapped to a backboard and had regained consciousness. He had suffered several broken ribs and probably a concussion from being tossed out his third-floor window into the canal. He was in pain, but he’d live.

“All I know is that I’m supposed to sail to a town on the other side of the Adriatic called Neum and I’ll get further instructions there,” replied Harvath as he set the yacht on a course of south-southeast.

Megan Rhodes, Gretchen Casey, and Alex Cooper were sitting there with bottles of water and plates of food. “What do you think is going to happen to him?” asked Cooper.

“I’ve got no idea,” he responded. “But I can guarantee you our little Q &A isn’t going to be pleasant.”

“Do we know who else was involved in the Rome attack?” asked Rhodes.

Harvath shook his head. “Bianchi may have provided the C4 for the bombing, but he didn’t order the attack. Somebody else did. That’s why I want to interrogate him myself. I think whatever those terrorist attacks were, they were only the beginning. That’s what we’ve been trying to figure out.”

“You and Riley?” asked Casey. “Together?”

“Yeah. The powers that be thought I’d draw less attention if we traveled as a couple.”

“Where were you before Venice?”

“Sorrento and Sicily.”

“Sounds romantic,” said Casey.

“Not really,” he said, changing the subject. “How’s Nikki?”

Nikki Rodriguez was an Athena Team member whose life Harvath had saved on a recent assignment.

“She’s doing much better,” Casey replied. “The doctors say she’ll be back at work sooner than they originally expected.”

Harvath smiled. Nikki was a remarkable operative. “Tell her I said hello,” he started to say, but he was interrupted by the ringing of his encrypted satellite phone. “That’s going to be Hutton,” he remarked as he tossed the phone to Casey.

Knowing that sat transmissions worked best via line of sight, she stepped from the bridge and outside onto the deck.

The night air was warm and humid, the seas calm. What little chop there was, the powerful yacht cut right through.

Lieutenant Colonel Rob Hutton’s voice was so clear, it sounded as if he were standing right next to her, rather than thousands of miles away back at Fort Bragg. “How’d it go?” he asked.

“We had to improvise a little bit,” replied Casey, “but it was a success. We got him.”

“We’re already hearing that there was a lot of shooting.”

“Not our fault.”

“How’s the team?” asked Hutton. “Everyone okay?”

“Everyone’s fine.”

There was a pause. “How about you?” he asked.

Casey looked up into the sky and wondered if one of the stars she saw was the satellite beaming Rob Hutton’s voice into her ear. “I’m fine, Rob.”

“You’re sure?”

There was no way he was in the Joint Special Operations Command center talking to her like that. He had to be standing outside somewhere, alone.

She closed her eyes and allowed herself to pretend for a moment that he was right there. She pictured his blond hair and blue eyes. His shoulders. His smile. Then she pictured his wedding ring and the moment was gone.

If Hutton couldn’t be strong enough for himself and his wife, she’d have to be strong enough for all of them.

It was over a year ago that it had happened, but it still felt so fresh, so recent. It had been only a kiss, but it was the most dangerous kiss of her career. They had allowed their attraction to each other to override everything else, and they had stepped over the line.

No sooner had the kiss begun than Gretchen had broken it off. She sensed afterward that, if she hadn’t, he would have. Hutton loved his wife and Casey knew that. She also knew that he loved her, too. Regardless of what her feelings for him might have been, though, she swore she’d never let it happen again. It was one of the hardest resolutions she’d ever made.

“I’m fine,” she replied. “Bianchi’s a bit beat up, though.”

“Who did it? Rhodes? Cooper? I’ll bet it was Ericsson again, wasn’t it? Damn it, Gretchen. You need to keep your operatives on a much tighter-”

“Rob,” Casey interrupted, “relax. Nobody physically beat him up.”

There was silence for a minute before Hutton said, “Oh. I’m sorry. It’s just that I thought-”

“I kicked him in the chest and knocked him out a third-story window.”

“You what?” he shouted. “Damn it, Gretchen. You could have killed him.”

“He’ll be fine.”

Hutton and Casey had been down this road before. “So once again the ends justify the means?” he asked rhetorically.

“Defenestration was the safest and most expedient option at the time. I exercised what I believed to be sound operational judgment.”

“Save it,” said Hutton. “You’re not on the record.”

Casey shook her head. She knew why he was upset. They weren’t fighting about who left the cap off the toothpaste. She colored outside the lines a lot. That’s what made her and the team successful. No, this wasn’t because of what she’d done to Bianchi or any of her unorthodox behavior on countless other operations. It was because as much as she wanted to, she refused to let Hutton get that close to her again.

“I haven’t looked in the bags below deck, but I assume everything we need to get home is in there,” she said, changing the subject. “Clothes, money, passports, the usual?”

Hutton wasn’t in the mood to fight her. It wouldn’t get him anywhere. “It’s all in there,” he said, his tone softening. “But we’re going to arrange to get more.”

Casey didn’t like the sound of that. “More for what?”

“I just heard from the Pentagon. There’s something they need you to do before you fly back.”