Use of Force

CHAPTER 3

“Stay on him,” Harvath ordered, not sure what the hell they were up against, or whom he was even following at this point. “But don’t let him see you.”

“Roger that,” Staelin replied.

“Haney—” Harvath began, but he was interrupted.

“Overhead now.”

He pulled a small infrared beacon from his coat pocket and clipped it to his lapel as he kept moving. “Got me?”

“Stand by,” Haney answered, as he used the drone’s infrared camera to search for Harvath’s strobe. Finally, he came back over the radio and said, “I’ve got you.”

“There’s a robed figure up ahead of me,” Harvath stated. “Same bearing. Moving like he’s late for a job interview. See him?”

Haney paused before replying, “Negative. I don’t see anything.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, I don’t see him. The drone’s not picking him up.”

Suddenly another voice broke in. It was Morrison, the other Marine who was moving with Gage, the Green Beret. “I have eyes on.”

“What’s your position?” Harvath asked.

When Morrison gave his location, Haney said, “You’re not even close to Harvath or Staelin. You guys are chasing three different targets.”

Shit, thought Harvath. How many of these guys are there? “Everybody, strobes on,” he ordered.

A chorus of “Roger that” flooded the radio as the men activated their infrared devices, visible only to the infrared camera aboard the drone. “Strobes on.”

Based on the wire clippings and the presence of the bomb maker, something bad was in the works. But was it in the works for tonight? Or were they just getting the lay of the land, perhaps waiting for two nights from now, when there’d be the biggest concentration of Burners in one spot? There was no telling. All he knew was that at least one of them was armed. And if one was armed, the others probably were too.

Getting back on the radio, Harvath instructed Haney to fix the other two figures on the map. In his mind, he tried to picture the layout of Black Rock City. Where the hell were they headed? And even more important, did Rahim have even more operatives out there?

The most pressing question, though, was What had he interrupted? Were the men in the process of planting a bomb? Had they already planted a bomb? Or did they have something totally different in mind?

When Haney’s voice came over his earpiece moments later, he didn’t have good news. “I can’t see them.”

“Is it the weather?” Harvath asked, though his gut told him that wasn’t the answer.

“Negative. Whatever they’re wearing, it’s masking their heat signature.”

Damn it. More tradecraft. These guys knew how to avoid infrared surveillance. Harvath’s worst fears were being confirmed.

“Based on their direction of travel,” he asked, “what do you think their target is?”

Haney studied the festival map on the console in front of him. “It could be anything.”

“Think like them.”

“I am thinking like them,” Haney replied. “But every one of these theme camps reeks of symbolism.”

Staelin’s voice interrupted the transition. “Our guy just doubled back and took a hard left. Headed west now.”

Moments later, Morrison stated, “Our target just took a shortcut through two camps. Now headed east.”

Up ahead of Harvath, the hooded figure he was following paused and looked around, as if checking his position, and then began moving north. They were all changing direction.

“Where are they headed, Mike?” Harvath asked as he continued after his target. “Come on. Figure it out.”

“I’m telling you,” Haney replied. “It could be anything.”

Just then, Morrison interjected, “I know where my target is headed. We need to take him now.”

“Slow down,” cautioned Harvath. “Where’s he going?”

“Kidsville. The family camp.”

The urgency of the situation instantly took on new meaning. They had to act.

Passing through another camp, Harvath saw a roll of duct tape. Grabbing it from the tent pole where it hung, he picked up his pace and kept going.

“Is anyone close enough to see if they’re buttoned down?” he asked.

Suicide bombers were known for employing what was called a “dead man’s switch.” It was a button that when depressed armed their device. If a bomber was shot or somehow incapacitated, simply releasing the button would cause their device to detonate.

There was also the chance of a “chicken switch.” It was a fail-safe that attached the bomber’s vest to a cell phone. If the device failed to go off at the designated place and time, a handler could trigger it remotely.

The chance that either technology, and possibly both, was present made the situation much more dangerous.

“Negative,” Staelin replied. “I can’t see anything. Our target has his hands under his robe.”

“Same with ours,” said Morrison.

Except for the split second he had a weapon pointed at him, Harvath hadn’t seen the hands of the man he was chasing either.

Tackling multiple potential suicide bombers wasn’t part of this assignment. It was supposed to be surveillance of a terrorist planner, followed by a snatch and grab. Once they had him out of Black Rock City, they were to fly him to a prearranged location for interrogation. Any heavy lifting was Harvath’s responsibility. Everyone else was supposed to be support.

Harvath didn’t know much about the men he was working with, but what he did know was that they were men of honor. They did the right thing, no matter what.

“Gut check,” Harvath relayed over the radio. “If anyone wants out, now’s the time.”

“Negative,” came the replies.

Harvath laid out his plan. “Assume they’re carrying weapons. Assume they’re all wearing vests. And assume they’re buttoned down. If they come off that switch, it’s over. So when you go kinetic, you each take a hand and focus on it like a laser. Understood?”

“Roger that,” the men answered.

Haney knew Harvath was operating without a partner. That meant he was going to have an even harder job. He’d have to get his target’s hands under control by himself. “I can be to you in less than five minutes,” Haney offered.

Looking up ahead, Harvath figured out where his target was headed. It was the biggest of the luxury camps — the one die-hard Burners resented the most — called Crystal Sky.

It was packed with wealthy and powerful executives from Silicon Valley. A successful attack inside Crystal Sky would reverberate across the tech industry and feed headlines worldwide.

“Stay on the drone,” Harvath ordered. “And have Langley get word to law enforcement. If there are more of them out there, we’ve got to find them fast.”

Once Haney had confirmed, Harvath hailed Morrison and Staelin. “Your teams are clear to engage. Take them down.”

From the Crystal Sky stage, he could make out a speeded-up version of “Super Freak” by Rick James. The robed figure in front of him cut out into the crowded street and headed for the camp entrance. Two hundred yards more and he’d be inside.

Harvath had no choice. It was time to make his move.