Use of Force

CHAPTER 71

The last thing Harvath wanted to do was head out to a dance club, but it was Thursday night, the place was going to have a decent crowd, and they might get lucky. At the very least, they’d get a feel for how it was laid out and could begin to get their arms around how they were going to snatch La Formícula.

Harvath’s plan had been pretty straightforward. He kept within Argento’s “ground rules” as best he could, but there were certain things he simply couldn’t promise. Life, especially in their line of work, was full of surprises — many of them extremely dangerous.

As they ate dinner, Harvath sent two texts, stepped outside to field several phone calls, and compiled a list of things he needed Argento and his team to track down for him.

When they arrived back at the safe house, he headed to his room to grab a shower and close his eyes for an hour.

At the appointed time, both teams met in the living room and Harvath went over the plan, with Argento translating to make sure everyone was on the same page.

To a person, they all agreed that the biggest wild card was going to be Vottari’s protection detail. They weren’t professionals by any stretch. And because they weren’t professionals, their behavior was unpredictable. Anything could happen. That was where the greatest danger lay.

In essence, the men “protecting” Vottari were thugs. They came from his village, or another close by. They would be fiercely loyal to him. When it came time to throw down, these boys wouldn’t think twice.

That part didn’t bother Harvath. He had them outmanned. In fact, even without Argento and his team, Harvath’s men could handle La Formícula’s crew. They just needed to bring the right tools for the job.

Someone raised the issue of security at The Beach Club and what should happen if they decided to jump in. Harvath had already discussed that possibility with Argento, and he let him inform his men. If they had to play the Carabinieri card, that was going to be the moment to do it.

With all of their questions answered, they piled into their vehicles and headed out.

It had been decided that the teams would go in separately and not acknowledge each other inside the club. The Americans were first.

Having pulled a stack of cash from his messenger bag, Harvath was ready to play the big-spending American. If The Beach Club had a VIP section, which it very likely did, that was where Vottari would be and Harvath wanted to be in it.

Unlike the restaurant where they’d eaten dinner, The Beach Club was actually built on a part of the coast with a long sandy beach. From its website, it looked like something you might have seen in Miami in the 1950s — lots of outdoor tables, chaise lounges, cabanas, and even a pool.

The building itself had a retractable roof and a full glass wall that opened up onto the outside. There were three bars, a huge dance floor, and some nights there were even fireworks. It was one of the hottest clubs in Calabria.

When they walked up to the entrance, Harvath wasted no time. He greased both bouncers, each with a hundred-dollar bill. As soon as that happened, word spread like wildfire that there was a big spender in the house.

The Beach Club did indeed have a VIP section, and Harvath and his team were shown right to it.

After being handed a hundred-dollar bill, the man at the velvet rope leaned in and told Harvath that it was five hundred to get in, but that included a bottle of champagne. Harvath discreetly peeled off four more notes and placed them in the man’s hand.

With a smile, the man then undid the rope and allowed the team to enter. An attractive young waitress showed them to their own seating area with bright white couches like the ones in Vottari’s Facebook photos.

“Well done,” said Lovett as they all took a seat.

It was just after ten and the club had barely come alive, but you wouldn’t have known it from the music. It was loud and thumping — as if the place was at max capacity on a Friday night.

Harvath took out his phone and texted Argento to let him know that they had made it inside. He then took a quick video of what he could see from the VIP section and sent it to Nicholas. The more he knew about the place, the better he’d be at pulling off his assignment.

A few minutes later, their waitress returned with a tray full of glasses. Right behind her was a busboy carrying an ice bucket. In it was their VIP bottle of champagne that came with their five-hundred-dollar entrance fee.

She showed the label to Harvath. It was a brand he’d never heard of before. It probably wasn’t worth more than twenty dollars. With a big smile, he thanked her and tried to make small talk over the music as she opened it.

Her English was terrible, but that was a good thing. The less she knew about him and the people with him, the better. All he wanted was for her to remember that he was a great tipper, and to hope that he came back.

As soon as she had poured champagne for everyone, he handed her a hundred-dollar bill.

“Grazie,” she replied. Thank you. Then, holding up the bottle she had emptied by filling five glasses, she asked, “More?”

Harvath smiled. “Later.”

She smiled back, and then left to take care of another group of customers.

“To pretty women,” Barton said, raising his glass.

Raising his glass, Morrison added, “Present company included.”

“I guess I’ll have to drink to that,” Lovett replied, and raised her glass as well.

Harvath and Staelin picked up theirs and everyone clinked glasses. About fifteen minutes later, the Italian team arrived.

Sticking to the plan, Harvath ignored them. Staelin, though, subtly raised his champagne glass and, from the comfort of the VIP section, tilted it in their direction.

Argento’s lieutenant, with equal subtlety, placed his hand under his chin and flicked it at the American as he walked past. Harvath tried not to smile.

• • •

Over the next two hours, they roamed the club getting to know its ins and outs. They ordered drinks, took photos, and continued to tip heavily.

They checked out exits, got to know other members of the security team, and developed backup plans for their backup plans. When he felt they had seen enough, Harvath called it a night.

As they left, every staff person they had come in contact with encouraged them to come back again the following night. The head of the VIP room offered to reserve the same seating area for them and the bouncers out front told them not to even worry about the line, but to come directly up to the door and see them.

A little money had gone a long way.

With the skids greased, they returned to the safe house in Villa San Giovanni.

Harvath was ready to turn in, but he still had a couple of items to check off his to-do list.

Once he had written up a brief for McGee, returned several important emails, and uploaded the rest of the photos and video for Nicholas, he was ready to call it a night.

Getting undressed, he slid into bed and turned out the light.

Normally, even when he was on operations, he fell asleep pretty fast. Tonight wasn’t one of those nights. His brain kept jumping from one topic to another. What if the entire reason the CIA had sent him to investigate Mustapha Marzouk had been a waste? What if ISIS had already found a chemist to replace him? Would Rome be their target? And if it was, what kind of attack would they need a chemist for? What if they couldn’t get Vottari to The Beach Club? What if Vottari didn’t know anything?

When Harvath started questioning whether he should have moved to Boston to be with Lara, and whether now he should move back to D.C. to run a Special Operations Group for the Old Man, he knew he was overtired.

Slowing his breathing, he picked one thing to focus his mind on. He tried to make it the view from the house he was renting overlooking the Charles River in Boston. That image slowly morphed into one he knew much better and felt much more comfortable with — the dock at his old house and its view over the Potomac.

With that image in his mind, and memories of how many times he’d sat there with a six-pack, decompressing after coming home from assignments just like this, he finally fell asleep.