Chapter 57
W ASHINGTON , D.C.
M uch like Hale, Jordan had also been an extremely difficult interrogation subject.
Worried about his age, health, and injuries from the gunfight, Harvath had been careful with how he had dosed him—starting low and gradually ratcheting it up.
Before the interrogation had even begun, the man had looked like a heart attack waiting to happen.
Thankfully, Harvath was able to eventually get what he needed out of him without Jordan flatlining.
Had the guy been younger or in better shape, Harvath was certain he could have moved much faster.
The length of the interrogation was strike one. Strike two was the fact that the storm prevented an FBI or Virginia State Police helicopter from picking them up and getting them rapidly back to D.C. Instead, Harvath, Gallo, Carolan, and Fields had been forced to drive.
As soon as Jordan had coughed up his information, they had hopped in Gallo’s Suburban and, with lights and sirens going full tilt, hightailed it all the way back to Washington.
Strike three was that the intelligence he had extracted from Jordan was incomplete.
There was an attack planned. The target was the NATO Summit.
Where at the summit and when, he didn’t know.
Everything had been compartmentalized and he’d only been given information on a need-to-know basis.
When asked who had given him his orders, he’d dropped a massive bombshell. It was a member of the FBI.
Harvath wasn’t familiar with the man, but the moment Agent Joe Carolan had heard the name, he knew exactly who it was. So did Fields.
Agent Matthew Kennedy had been with the Bureau for decades. But like turncoats inside the Secret Service and CIA, he had decided to betray his country.
Harvath didn’t need to know why. He just needed to stop him. Gallo had already assembled a small team of trusted agents from his division to find and detain Kennedy.
In the meantime, Harvath had reached out to S?lvi to warn her.
Because she was on duty, she wasn’t answering her phone, but she was able to check her texts.
The threat itself sounded like it could be explosives, but no explosive devices had been assembled at Jordan’s compound—only an odd kind of detonator, which somewhat explained all the wiring and electronic junk found in the basement of the bunkhouse.
His next communication was to Russ Gaines.
It was important that he know that there was a credible threat to the summit.
Harvath also needed to ask for a pretty serious favor.
He heard Russ put the phone down and issue a series of rapid orders to his assistant Kyle before getting back on the line and saying, “I’ll have everything waiting by the time you arrive. ”
Gallo and Carolan were also working their phones as Fields rocketed up the rain-slicked highway to Washington like a professional Formula 1 driver.
By the time they reached the Walter E. Washington Convention Center, the NATO Summit was in full swing. They had no idea what they were looking for, but they did know who.
Gallo was headed to the security command post to be their eye in the sky, while Carolan and Fields would comb the 2.
3-million-square-foot convention center looking for Kennedy, whose photo had already been texted to every police officer, Secret Service agent, and security guard in the vicinity of the summit.
Harvath’s job was equally broad. Whatever this Kennedy guy had planned, he had been reliant on a handful of Iron Tree men who happened to be labor union members approved to work at the convention center. Like Kennedy, if they were on-site, they could be anywhere.
As they pulled up to the loading dock, Harvath saw Russ Gaines already waiting for him. He introduced Gallo, Carolan, and Fields before agreeing to how often they would check in via text and watching them disappear inside.
Standing next to Russ were two of the Quick Reaction Force agents he had flown out to the scene of the motorcade attack with yesterday—an older operative named Fuller and a very switched-on man named Wallace.
They handed Harvath a radio with an earpiece, a Secret Service plate carrier like he had worn yesterday, and asked him if he needed a weapon. Harvath had his Glock, so he shook his head and thanked them.
Gaines then handed over a set of Secret Service credentials, including an all-access badge on a lanyard.
Harvath put on the plate carrier and hung the badge around his neck. Then, after setting up his radio and doing a quick comms check, they all headed into the convention center.
Like Gallo, Gaines made a beeline for the command center, which left Harvath with the QRF duo.
“Where do you want to go first?” Fuller asked.
In addition to Kennedy, Jordan had provided the names of the three men the rogue FBI agent was using to infiltrate the convention center.
Gallo had had their photos pulled from their ID badges and blasted out to all the security people, the same way he had done with Kennedy’s.
They were confident they had found their haystack; the only question was whether the needles were still there.
What worried Harvath was that it had taken two days to set up the NATO Summit.
Not only were there conferences, but there was also the exhibit hall where all the defense contractors had their booths.
If Kennedy’s ultimate goal was to plant bombs, it could have happened at any point over the last couple of days.
Looking for these guys here, this morning, could be a wild-goose chase.
Also, the Secret Service had one of the best bomb-detection divisions in the world.
They would have been sweeping their sniffer dogs throughout the convention center over the last forty-eight hours.
Those animals were amazing. If there was so much as a firecracker inside a garbage can, they would have found it.
Now that the summit had started, security screening had only gotten more difficult. It would be nearly impossible to sneak anything in at this point, which made Harvath think that whatever they planned to use for the attack had to already be here—the dogs just hadn’t gotten near it.
“Lower level,” he said to Fuller.
“What are we looking for?” asked Wallace.
“The companies that hire the union guys to install and dismantle their trade show booths have cages they keep their supplies and equipment in. It’s one of the only places you can leave things for extended periods and not draw attention.”
The two men nodded and followed Harvath to the service elevators.
As they rode down, he received a video call from Nicholas.
Activating it, he said, “Tell me you’ve got something good.”
“I don’t know how good it is,” the man replied, “but I may have something. The pictures you sent from Jordan’s compound, all those pieces of electronics.”
“That were being used to build the alleged detonators? What about them?”
“I think we ID’d one of the components. It’s like a very sclerotic AirTag.”
Harvath held his phone higher, as if that might help him better understand what his friend was saying. “I don’t get it.”
Nicholas pulled up a picture of it. “Secret Service is going to be sweeping for all sorts of electronic devices—both for eavesdropping on the summit, but also for bomb triggers. This device works on a frequency well below anything they’d pay attention to.
The only problem is, it’s so weak, you’d practically have to be standing right next to it to trigger it. ”
“That doesn’t make much sense. Unless you’re a suicide bomber, close proximity to your device is usually considered a negative.”
“Agreed,” his friend said. “Which brings me to those sharps you found.”
At the end of one of the workbenches, Harvath had discovered an empty chewing tobacco tin filled with the tips of large gauge hypodermic needles.
“What about them?”
“You’re the one that said it. Only a suicide bomber would want to be standing next to his bomb when he hit the detonator. Unless…”
“There was a lag before the bomb actually went off.”
“Exactly.”
“What are we talking about?” Harvath asked. “Are the sharps meant to puncture something? Is there some sort of a slow bleed that gives the bomber time to get away?”
Nicholas looked at him through the screen.
“DHS and Secret Service have dogs that can sniff out chemical weapons, but if those weapons are small, well contained, and coated with an outer layer of paint thinner or even jalapeno jelly, the dogs don’t hit on them.
They walk right by. Compared to the volume of explosive material you’d need for a substantial attack, chemical weapons require a lot less.
In essence, you can take a much smaller risk of being uncovered and, if successful, get a much bigger bang for your buck. ”
“How sure are you that we’re dealing with a chemical weapon?”
“I’ve got photos of a bunch of shredded wire, some needle tips, and a weak Bluetooth receiver. How sure would you be?”
Sure enough to know that this was above his pay grade. He needed to kick this up to Gaines and let him make the call.
If they kept going and succeeded in tracking Kennedy or any of the Iron Tree members down, they might be able to get to any potential devices before they were detonated.
On the other hand, if they attempted to evacuate the convention center, Kennedy and his men might clack off their devices, killing untold numbers as they fled.
Harvath was about to say something to Nicholas when the service elevator they were riding in slowed and then stopped at the mezzanine level.
As the doors opened, he saw four uniformed Secret Service officers looking back at him. There was something about them, however, that didn’t seem right.