Page 10 of Edge of Honor

The younger agent nodded and took a sip of her coffee.

Picking up the topmost folder on his desk, he slid it over to her. “We may have an answer.”

Fields opened it and began reading the contents. When her eyes widened, Carolan knew she had gotten to the bombshell.

“This came fromourRussian intelligence officer?” she asked. “The motherfucker who shot me when we tried to take him in? Josef Vissarionvich. Aka Joe Nistal?”

“The one and only.”

“The FBI has had him for seven months. How did this not surface until now?”

“Because that’s what the Russians do. They give you some decent stuff up front to establish their bona fides. You get some so-so stuff in the middle. And then the really good intel comes at the end. That’s what they use to hammer out the best possible deal.”

“Has any of it been verified?”

Carolan shook his head. “Not yet. That’s what you and I have been assigned to do.”

“I understand why you’re sick to your stomach. This is going to be radioactive.”

“Now you know why we’re hiding it from the White House.”

“Is that even legal?”

“For the moment,” Carolan replied. “But we’re in a pretty gray area.”

“I didn’t join the FBI for the gray areas,” said Fields.

“Me neither, but here we are.”

“Why us?”

Carolan took a sip of his coffee before responding. “Gallo says that we hit such a home run collaring Nistal, he couldn’t think of anybody better to give it to.”

“Bullshit. I can think of lots of people.”

Carolan shrugged. “And yet, like I said, here we are.”

They sat in silence for several moments until, finally, Fields asked, “So where do you want to start?”

“Seeing as how it’s day one of a new assignment, let’s keep it easy,” he said. “We’re going to get our hazmat suits on and jump right into the blast zone.”

CHAPTER 6

FAIRFAXCOUNTY, VIRGINIA

Just as the Norwegian security agents rushed into the kitchen, the Ambassador had ordered them to stand down. Harvath wasn’t the threat. Harvath had taken out the threat.

Hot on the security team’s heels was Sølvi, who made sure to loudly announce herself so as not to be accidentally fired upon. It took her a fraction of a second to assess the situation and she fell right in with Harvath administering lifesaving aid to the chef.

They were able to keep him alive until an ambulance arrived, stabilized him, and transported him to the Center for Trauma and Critical Care at George Washington University Hospital.

As the EMTs carried off the chef, Scot quickly brought Sølvi up to speed on what he needed her to do. “Don’t speak with D.C. police, the FBI, the U.S. Diplomatic Security Service, none of them,” he had said. “Speak only with the Ambassador. This is for your protection. Do you understand?”

Sølvi had nodded.

“Do you still have my pistol?”

“Of course I do,” she had replied, handing it over to him.