Use of Force

CHAPTER 42

Leaving the bedroom, he stopped in the kitchen for a second cup of coffee. Unplugging his satellite phone from its charger, he carried it upstairs, along with his coffee, out onto the balcony.

It was at least fifteen degrees cooler at the coast than it had been inland. As he fired up the phone and waited for it to acquire a signal, he took a deep breath of the ocean air. It smelled and sounded exactly the same as it had yesterday. Despite everything that had happened, at least that hadn’t changed.

There might have been a lesson in there somewhere for him, but at this moment he didn’t have the mental bandwidth to grapple with it.

When the signal icon appeared on his phone, he relayed everything the smuggler had told him to Deborah Lovett, his CIA contact at the Embassy in Rome. She told him she’d get back to him as soon as she had something. After that, all he could do was wait.

He needed sleep, but with two cups of coffee in his system and so many things weighing on his mind, he was too wired. That wasn’t like him.

Normally, he could calm his thoughts enough to slip into an almost meditative state that allowed him to replenish his strength. Today, though, had been anything but normal. He was still keyed up, expecting a fight. Until the boats arrived, he wouldn’t be able to relax. Not even for a moment.

He felt fully responsible for his team, including their injuries. But, considering everything that had happened, it could have been much worse.

The bullet that hit Haney could have severed an artery or shattered his leg. It hadn’t. And while Gage would have his left arm in a sling for a while, his wound could have been a lot worse too. All things considered, they’d been pretty fortunate to all be getting out of this alive. It was a testament to both their courage and their skill. Sometimes, shit just happened.

Unable to unwind, he put his mind toward what to do with the smuggler and the satellite phone salesman. Neither had any further intelligence value.

He thought about killing them. Halim certainly deserved it. And in his mind, Harvath could make the argument that the phone salesman deserved it too. He certainly wasn’t going to cut them loose.

Listening to the sound of the ocean on the beach below, he let the pieces tumble in his mind.

As he did, an idea began to form. After making sure it was fully baked, he transmitted it back to Langley.

It was common knowledge that the locals, as well as the fledgling Libyan government, didn’t like the human traffickers. Plenty of their boats had sunk only a few miles out to sea. When that happened, bodies washed up on Libya’s beaches.

Harvath decided the best thing he could do was to leave their two captives right where they were — tied up in the safe house.

Once he and the team were safely away, the Libyan government could be tipped off. They could then “perp walk” the smuggler and his accomplice on TV. Rounding up one of the most-feared smugglers in the country would make them look strong and competent.

Freeing all the refugees locked up at his compound would further burnish their image as just and compassionate. And if they were smart, they’d vilify and undermine the power of the Libya Liberation Front by tying them to the monstrous smuggler.

By claiming that it was government forces that had clashed with the militia overnight and this morning while attempting to capture Halim, they’d look strong and brave.

It was a win, win, win that gave the new government everything tied up with a ribbon.

McGee liked the plan too, and felt a high degree of confidence that the Libyan government would go for it.

He also shared with Harvath that identifying the stolen Glocks from Camp 27 had turned out to be a big help in speeding up the earlier drone handoff.

This made the Defense Department, which was eager to settle that score, move faster. Also, once the Tunisians were informed of the evidence connecting the Libya Liberation Front and Ansar al-Sharia, they gladly took themselves out of the loop and allowed the attack to happen.

They were two small hash marks on a much larger balance sheet, but had just one of them been removed, there was no telling how things might have turned out.

• • •

When darkness fell and the High Speed Assault Craft with their knifelike hulls arrived off the coast, six SEAL Team members slipped over the sides and swam to shore.

Harvath was on the beach, waiting for them when they arrived and led them up to the safe house.

There, the SEALs passed out waterproof dry-bags for everyone to load up their gear, including the surveillance equipment Morrison had stripped from the van.

The SEALs then did a quick assessment and made plans for getting everyone out.

Harvath had his own ideas, but he kept them to himself. This was what these men were paid to do. If they wanted his opinion, they’d ask for it.

The biggest challenge was moving Haney, but the SEAL Team had come prepared.

HSACs, as long as they weren’t getting pounded by waves in a surf zone, could come in very close to shore. The CIA couldn’t have known when they chose the safe house, but the location had been perfect.

Using an inflatable stretcher that looked like some kind of tactical pool toy, they were able to carry Haney out of the house and down to the beach. Once everyone was assembled, they called in the boats.

Harvath and Staelin stayed behind with two of the SEALs to cover the rest of the team as they waded out chest-high in the water and climbed onto the boats.

When they were aboard, Harvath and Staelin followed. The two SEALs on the beach came next.

The newcomers were issued Mustang inflatable flotation devices and headsets, which were quickly put on and plugged in.

Blankets were offered, but none of Harvath’s steely-eyed killers would be caught dead wrapped in a blanket. They had come into Libya like warriors and that was exactly how they were going to leave.

With all present and accounted for, the boat crews pointed their HSACs toward open water and slammed the throttles forward.