Chapter 40
Morrell crouched beside the door and gently worked the tension wrench back and forth inside the lock. Harvath stood several feet away, watching both directions. The last thing they needed was for Koebler to show up and take them by surprise.
Upstairs, they had left the bombmaker’s abode exactly as they had found it. The door had been relocked and the Coke can grenade trap had been reset. The cameras had been successfully spoofed and Koebler should have no idea that they’d been there.
Morrell gave his pick a final twist and the dead bolt lock fell into place with a solid thunk. “That should keep things interesting,” he said as he straightened and brushed the dust from his hands.
Harvath took one last look at the building. He was already assembling a surveillance roster in his head. Ashby and Palmer would take first watch, followed by Staelin and Haney. “Let’s get going.”
They had only taken a few steps down the block when a massive, concussive boom rolled through the city.
Both men stopped dead in their tracks. It was heavy—like distant thunder. Seconds later, the unmistakable shock wave arrived.
All around them, corrugated metal rattled. Every single window in the neighborhood clattered against its frames. Countless car alarms began blaring.
“What the hell was that?” Morrell asked.
Harvath didn’t answer. He knew what it was, just as well as Morrell did.
Suddenly, their radios crackled to life. “Did you guys hear that?” Mo asked.
“We did,” Morrell replied, as they started walking toward the van. “What’ve you got?”
“Hold on.”
Several moments passed as Mo scanned the police frequencies and ran them through a translation app on his laptop. Finally, his voice came back. “Large explosion reported. Central Bangkok.”
Harvath felt his stomach tighten.
Morrell looked at him. “You thinking what I’m thinking?”
Harvath nodded. “Koebler.”
KitKat’s voice cut in over their earpieces. “Emergency channels are all lighting up. Multiple units responding.”
Sirens began rising in the distance—first one, then another, then several more joining in.
“Royal Bangkok Sports Club,” said Mo.
“Jesus,” Morrell responded.
Harvath looked at him. “What?”
“It’s Bangkok’s swankiest country club. A real who’s who. Politicians, military brass, business leaders. It’d be like hitting the Congressional Country Club in D.C.”
Harvath didn’t need the comparison. He already understood. If Koebler had just detonated a bomb there, the choice of target had been deliberate.
“What kind of a blast are we talking about?” he asked over the radio.
“Still sorting it out,” Mo replied, the sound of his keyboard clacking in the background. “But initial reports are mentioning several vehicles on fire near the entrance.”
Harvath and Morrell exchanged a look.
Morrell said it first, “Car bomb.”
Harvath agreed. “Same playbook as Friday.”
“Police are saying there are multiple casualties,” KitKat added quietly.
More sirens could be heard now, screaming down the main road toward the city center. Harvath stared at the plume of black smoke rising above the skyline.
The Royal Bangkok Sports Club hadn’t been chosen by accident. It was a message.
Harvath thought about the bolt-hole upstairs. The food. The supplies. The hair dye. It hadn’t been stocked for comfort. It’d been stocked to allow him to stay off the radar.
Mo’s voice came back over the radio. “Police are locking down the entire district around the Royal Bangkok Sports Club.”
Harvath turned to Morrell. “You should call Davi back.”
“You sure?”
Harvath nodded. “We may have already sat on Koebler’s identity too long.”
The CIA operative pulled out his phone and hit redial. Davi answered on the first ring.
“Not a good time,” she said.
“Where are you?”
“En route,” she replied over the sound of sirens. “Royal Bangkok Sports Club. There’s been another bombing.”
“I know,” Morrell said. “We think we may have something.”
There was a fraction of a beat. “Then say it.”
“Not over the phone.”
Another pause. “I’m coming up to Rama IV,” she stated. “Where are you?”
“Khlong Toei. Near the port.”
“They’re locking the city back down. Get to the river. Catch the express boat to Sathorn Pier. I’ll meet you there.”
“And Richard,” she added, “whatever you’ve got, it had better be good.”
Morrell ended the call and slipped the phone back into his pocket. “We’ve got to move. We’ll get to Davi by boat.”
“Roger that,” Harvath replied.
They reached the van and quickly filled KitKat and Mo in. The two techs would stay put and keep their eyes on the building. If Koebler or anyone else showed up, they were to let Morrell know immediately.
Harvath told them he’d have Ashby and Palmer there as soon as possible to back them up.
Then he and Morrell headed for the pier.