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M CLEAN , V IRGINIA

H arvath’s plan had, admittedly, been ad hoc from the jump. Taking a protectee and squirreling them away somewhere and keeping them safe was one thing. Taking a protectee and keeping them safe while attempting to lure in unknown bad actors was something completely different.

Having Haney and McGee get to the Ambassador’s house first was a key part of his plan. They had done their sweep of the grounds as well as the interior of the home flawlessly. Harvath’s job had been more complicated.

He not only needed to pop Rogers back onto the radar, he also needed to get him all the way home without anything happening to him.

As Rogers had driven and Harvath had remained hidden in the trunk, Nicholas had followed at a distance. He had not seen anyone tailing them. By the time he had peeled off, they were only minutes from the Ambassador’s driveway.

After being successfully smuggled into the house, Harvath started thinking through next steps.

Everything up to that point had gone according to plan.

Even if someone had been watching, it would have appeared that the Ambassador had arrived alone and was inside the home, albeit with the blinds and drapes drawn.

That was a key part of Harvath’s plan. Whoever was after Rogers, they needed to believe that he would be easy to get to, that they had the upper hand, which led to Harvath’s next issue.

If the Ambassador was right and the deaths of the secretary of state and the secretary of defense had not been caused by an accident or natural causes, then what did the killers have planned for him?

Rogers was a fit guy in his fifties, training to run the Marine Corps Marathon in the fall.

While it wouldn’t be out of the realm of possibilities that he too could have a heart attack, you could only have so many connected people die via the same means before people eventually got suspicious.

And that was what had been nibbling at the edges of Harvath’s mind.

Were the Iranians strategic enough to realize that while dramatic attacks like car bombs and snipers would make for incredible headlines, they would only drive the rest of their targets deep into hiding? They had to know that .

Unless they could hit their targets all at once, all at the same time, they would risk spooking everyone else on their list and sending them underground. It made much more sense to take them one at a time and in a way that wouldn’t raise suspicion among the others.

That was how Harvath would have done it, and he had to believe that the Iranians were that thoughtful, as well as that clever.

So what did that mean for Rogers? If the men chasing him through Rock Creek Park were indeed assassins, what was their plan? How would they have killed him and how would they have done it in such a way that it didn’t arouse the suspicions of anyone else on their hit list?

That was the ten-thousand-dollar question. If he knew that answer, it might help him anticipate what they might have planned next for the Ambassador. But as things now stood, he had nothing. He didn’t even know if they’d show up.

Then the camera feeds had gone down. It was only a blip.

They’d only gone dark for a fraction of a second, but Harvath didn’t believe in coincidences.

And while he wished he had more information, he was a big believer in the saying “You go to war with the army you have, not the army you wish you had.”

The one saving grace in the entire plan, besides having Haney and McGee with him, was that even though the Secret Service hadn’t been able to talk the Ambassador into paring back his trees, they had been able to talk him into upgrading his master bedroom closet into a safe room.

The walls and floors had been lined with ballistic fiberglass panels and the door swapped out for a high-security version with hardened locking bolts, a galvanized steel core, and a triple-reinforced metal frame. But as good as that was, it was by no means perfect.

The safe room didn’t have its own air filtration, which made it vulnerable to smoke and fire.

Without any panels on the ceiling, it was also exposed to attack from above.

Nevertheless, it was a hell of a lot better than just two-by-fours and a couple of layers of Sheetrock.

If they needed to stick Rogers in there while they took care of business, none of them would worry for his well-being.

That was the lay of the land and this was the army they were going to war with. Now all they had to do was to wait and see if enemy forces showed up.

Serving the bone-in, dry-aged New York strip steaks and sides the Ambassador had picked up from the Capital Grille, they plated their dinners and joined Haney in the den.

They made small talk as they ate and then joked about not being able to have dessert because Mike had finished off all the Ambassador’s ice cream.

At 8:30 p.m. the alarm on McGee’s watch went off. In seven minutes, the sun would set.

Like a scene out of the postapocalyptic movie I Am Legend , the team went about securing the house. There was no telling what was out in the woods, waiting for darkness to launch its attack.

Rogers set up two pots and began brewing some of the strongest coffee he had ever made. After scraping the plates into the garbage, he placed them in the dishwasher and leaned against the counter.

“You good?” Harvath asked from the kitchen table, where he was attaching his night-vision goggles to the mount on his tactical helmet.

“As good as I think I’m going to be.”

“It’s all going to be all right. Trust me.”

Rogers looked at him. “What if nothing happens?”

“You mean tonight?”

“I mean ever. What if I was wrong? What if there is no threat and I put you guys through all of this for nothing?”

“First of all,” Harvath replied, “after what you did, you’ve got a blank check with me, so don’t even worry about it. Haney and McGee feel the same. You’re one of us and we’re going to keep you safe.

“Secondly, there’s nothing that would make me happier than to come to the conclusion that there is no active threat against you. That would be the absolute best possible outcome.

“Either way, the train has already left the station, so you might as well sit back and relax. In fact, what’s your favorite adult beverage?”

The Ambassador didn’t even need to think about it. “Bourbon,” he responded.

“You have some in the house?”

“Lots of it.”

“A man after my own heart,” said Harvath. “What’s your best bottle?”

“That’s easy. I’ve got a Pappy Van Winkle. Fifteen years old.”

“Go pour yourself a couple fingers of that. It’ll help take the edge off.”

“You don’t mind that I have a drink?” Rogers asked.

“As long as it’s just one, you’ll be fine.”

“How about you?” the Ambassador offered. “Would you like one?”

Harvath smiled, but shook his head. “Unfortunately, I’m on duty. I will, though, absolutely take a rain check.”

“You can count on it. It’s the least I can do.”

Harvath watched as Rogers walked away toward the bar in his stylish den. He then returned to working on his helmet.

Once the goggles were attached, he went over his short-barreled Rattler for the umpteenth time and then did the same with his Glock. After that, he shrugged into his plate carrier and poured two big mugs of coffee.

Walking into the living room, he handed one of them to McGee and asked, “Everything all right?”

“Look at you,” the ex–CIA director said. “Should I have brought a vest?”

“I told you you could if you wanted to.”

“To be honest, I have so many boxes in my garage, I wouldn’t even know where to start looking for it.”

“You cleared out pretty fast,” said Harvath as he took a seat across from him. “I thought you’d stick around D.C. for a while, maybe do a stint on a board of directors or dip your toe into the consulting world.”

McGee smiled. “I don’t think the corporate world would be a good fit for me.”

“What about a think tank? Or academia? With your history, some university could offer a Robert McGee master’s degree in black ops, covert ass-kicking, and shooting bad guys in the face.

Those precious little college students would be lined up around the block and camping out for something like that. ”

“More like taking over the building and trying to firebomb my office,” the man said with a laugh. “I think I’m just going to enjoy retirement. What about you? You’ve been out about as long as I have. Do you miss anything?”

“Maybe a little,” Harvath replied, “but to be honest, I haven’t had the time. For the last six months, it feels like as soon as I was unpacked, it was time to pack again and S?lvi and I were on to the next spot.”

“Good for you. You deserve a little happiness. Especially after everything you went through.”

“Thank you,” Harvath said, taking a sip of his coffee.

“And by the way, you know that if I’d still been in charge, I never would have allowed what the Agency did to you.”

“I know.”

“What Andy Conroy did was flat-out inexcusable. Deputy director of operations or not, that was beyond bad.”

Harvath appreciated the man’s support and told him so, but because he wasn’t in the mood to rehash the whole thing, he changed the subject back to McGee and his retirement.

“That’s it then? You’ve moved to some little beach cottage where you paint all day?

At least tell me you’re working on your memoirs.

That’s something I could get behind. I’d pay good money to read a Bob McGee book.

Just based on the body count alone, you’d have to publish it in multiple volumes. ”

McGee smiled once again. “Nope. I’m not banging away on a typewriter. I do paint. I run on the beach. Do a little fishing. Some crabbing from time to time. That’s it. And I like it that way.”

“It sounds lonely.”

“It’s quiet . There’s a difference. After decades of living at eleven, it’s nice to dial things down to a three. It’s relaxing. At least it was until today.”

Now it was Harvath’s turn to smile. “Ambassador Rogers needed the best, that’s why I called you.”

“You called me because you’re running out of friends in this town. That’s what happens when you hang around too long.”

“I don’t know. I’m pretty sure I could have squeezed a couple more years out of it had I wanted to.”

“Life is all about timing,” McGee remarked, his voice tinged with quiet wisdom. “Especially in this line of work. Knowing when to step away… that’s what separates the wise from the reckless.”

“The quick and the dead,” Harvath mused.

“And yet here we are. No paycheck. No backup to speak of. Just us and the Ambo.”

“So what does that make us?”

The ex–CIA director didn’t even bat an eye. “Men willing to fight for what’s right, even when the system won’t. That makes us men of honor. Last of the American breed.”

McGee had always been a fascinating character and Harvath could have spent all night talking with him, but he needed to finish getting everything ready.

“Comms check in five,” he said, standing up.

“Copy that,” the man replied.

Picking up his mug and heading back toward the kitchen, it struck Harvath that McGee would be a great choice to run the Carlton Group.

But for that to happen, to convince him to give up his painting, his fishing, and his quiet runs on the beach, something would have to befall the country, the seriousness of which America had never seen.