Page 3 of Edge of Honor

Instead, he yelled at Sølvi to “Get down!” and, unbuckling his seat belt, threw himself on top of her, covering her body with his.

Less than a second later, the bombs exploded, lifting his nearly six-thousand-pound Tahoe clean off the ground.

CHAPTER 2

The synchronized blasts shattered the vehicle’s windows, showering the interior with broken glass. Scot prayed to God that Sølvi hadn’t been injured.

“Are you okay?” he yelled over the ringing in his ears, fumbling with her seat belt.

She was dazed and it took a moment for her to respond. “I’m all right,” she finally answered, flashing him the thumbs-up.

The unmistakable odor of lit gasoline and burning rubber filled the air. They needed to move. There could be another explosion coming.

“We’re going to exit out your door,” he instructed, as he unbuckled her and reached for the handle. “In three, two—”

He stopped just as he got to the number one and was about to open the door. The sharp cracks of gunfire, even with the ringing in his ears, were unmistakable.

“Stay down!” he shouted.

With bullets flying, they were sitting ducks inside a thin-skinned vehicle. Movement was life. They needed to get off the X.

Rolling off his armrest, he popped the center console lid, handed the SIG Sauer pistol and two extra mags beneath it to Sølvi, and then opened the console vault underneath that and pulled out his most readily accessible “truck gun.”

It was a compact, highly maneuverable personal defense weapon, or PDW for short, known as a Raider 365.

“When I saygo, I want you to get out and position yourself behind the engine block,” he said, springing the stock and making sure a round was chambered. “Understand?”

Sølvi nodded.

As she prepared to open her door and bail out, Harvath popped up in the driver’s seat and identified three more men in hooded sweatshirts, wearing face masks and sunglasses. They were armed with short-barreled, automatic weapons. But it wasn’t their rifles that sent a chill down his spine. It was their tactics.

While one of them fired into the crowd, the other two covered his flanks, engaging the surviving police officers. They fired in tight, controlled pairs—two shots in rapid succession—delivering their hits quickly and precisely. Whoever these men were, they were professionals.

Harvath seated the Raider’s stock against his shoulder and shouted “Go!” as he brought the weapon up and began firing.

With bodies dropping left and right, there was no time to develop a formal plan. As soon as he had a sight picture, he engaged the first target, pumping two rounds into his back, before moving quickly to the next shooter and repeating the process.

There was just one problem. Neither man went down.

Body armor, Harvath thought to himself. As soon as the thought entered his mind, he began adjusting his aim.

Center mass was the biggest and easiest part of the body to hit. The moment you panned down for shots in the leg or panned up for headshots, the degree of difficulty skyrocketed.

Not only were the shots he needed to make much harder, but he had also blown his element of surprise.

As the two men he had shot spun and began putting rounds on his Tahoe, he knew he was in big trouble.

“They’re wearing body armor!” he yelled to Sølvi. “I’m coming to you. Give me some cover fire.”

As she peeked above the hood of the SUV and began shooting at the attackers, Harvath scrambled out of the vehicle and joined her.

While their situation had improved by putting the heavy Chevy engine between them and their opponents, it hadn’t improved by much.

“Reloading!” Sølvi shouted as she crouched back down and inserted a fresh magazine into her pistol.

The Tahoe rocked back and forth as it was riddled with a withering barrage of bullets. From the sound of the gunfire, Harvath could tell the shooters were getting closer. They were crossing the street, walking their rounds in, determined to eliminate the threat. He signaled to Sølvi what he wanted her to do.

The two flankers may have been bold enough to traverse the street, but that didn’t cancel out any of the other facts on the ground. They still needed to keep their heads on swivels and deal with anyone else who popped up and began shooting at them.