Page 27

C oming around the house from the north side, instead of backtracking through the woods behind the garage, meant that Harvath could gain a little extra time with the Dragonflies. There was a trade-off, however.

Instead of being able to sneak up behind the team hiding in the trees at the southeast corner of the house, he would now be on the opposite side of the open expanse of lawn.

It was an even worse position than he’d been in when having to cross the driveway.

Without some kind of off-the-charts diversion, it would be next to impossible to cover that much ground without being shot at. There had to be another way.

As he looked at his phone and saw that the remaining attackers were lining up and getting ready to move from the cover of the trees, he realized there was only one thing he could do—flank them.

Radioing his team as he changed magazines, he told Haney to get downstairs and join McGee. It looked like the attackers were going to come in through the living room. And when Harvath gave the command, he wanted Haney and McGee to absolutely unload on them.

With their confirmations that they understood what he wanted them to do, Harvath got himself in place.

Because the house was on a slight hill that sloped down to the water, the flagstone terrace outside the living room was built several feet above the ground. It provided Harvath just enough cover as he came around the corner.

Double-checking the Dragonflies, he kept one overhead and sent the other on a sweep of the property. The last thing he wanted to be surprised by was that a fresh crop of reinforcements had arrived and that the attackers had swelled their ranks.

So far, there were only the six remaining. What was odd, however, was that they had stopped moving.

With two of their colleagues down and not responding, were they scrapping their attack and formulating a new plan? It didn’t make any sense. What the hell were they waiting for?

As Harvath continued to watch the feed, he saw two of the attackers break off and move down along the south side of the house, taking up positions beneath a pair of large floor-to-ceiling windows.

Raising his team over the radio, he told them what he was seeing and the subtle change he wanted Haney to enact.

The men confirmed his instructions, but the moment they did, the feeds started getting snowy. The Dragonflies were losing power.

The last thing Harvath saw before the feeds completely cut out was the remaining four attackers beginning to make their way out of the trees.

“Get ready,” he radioed, turning off his phone and flipping up the mount. “Here they come.”

From the far end of the patio, he watched as the now group of four men stepped onto the grass in a V-formation, their own suppressed weapons up and ready, and headed quickly toward the flagstone steps.

Because all of the remaining blinds and shades were drawn, McGee and Haney couldn’t see what was happening outside. So, as the attackers moved, Harvath quietly called out their distance over the radio.

When the black-clad figures hit the steps, Harvath gave his team a ten-second warning.

Then, once the attackers came to a stop in front of the sliding glass doors of the living room, he radioed exactly where they were standing.

As the two men in the center faced the house, the man on either end turned and faced outward to guard against being flanked.

It happened so quickly, Harvath almost didn’t have time to drop down and get out of sight.

He had lost the ability to have direct eyes on, but it didn’t matter. Activating his radio, he was about to give the “Go” command when the attackers facing the house opened fire.

They raked their fully automatic rounds back and forth, shattering all the glass and filling the living room with lead.

Even though the shooting had already started, Harvath activated his radio and ordered Haney and McGee to “Hit it!” and return fire.

The plan to surprise the attackers by activating the outdoor floodlights while simultaneously shooting at them through the blinds and the glass from the darkened house was now moot.

Above the suppressed shots of the attackers, Harvath could hear both the booming of McGee’s .45-caliber 1911 as well as Haney’s shotgun as they fought back.

At the same time, Harvath popped up over the edge of the patio and let loose with a barrage of fully automatic fire.

He swept his weapon back and forth, hitting the attackers in their lower extremities.

The man closest to him he nailed right in the groin. And when that man fell to the ground, he finished him off with a burst through his night-vision goggles to the face.

One by one, Harvath and McGee took out the men on the patio as Haney’s shotgun only fell quiet when he was reloading.

Finally, Haney stopped shooting and his voice came over the radio. He didn’t know if the two attackers on his side of the house were dead, even though they were no longer returning fire.

Harvath instructed Haney to stay put and let McGee know that he would be traversing his line of fire. He didn’t want to be mistaking him for one of the attackers.

Once they had both responded, Harvath began moving.

The patio was covered with blood, bodies, and broken glass. As he passed, he signaled McGee to cover him.

Turning the corner, he moved along the side of the house where Haney had not only blown out the windows, but had also blown massive holes through the walls.

The two attackers on that side had been ripped apart by the blasts from his shotgun.

Ballistic helmets and hard plates in their vests had not been enough to save them.

Their faces were obliterated. It would take fingerprinting or DNA to identify them. Harvath doubted dental records would even be of any use. The bodies on the patio, however, were another story.

As Harvath circled back around, McGee had already used the toe of his boot to raise all of their night-vision goggles. He wasn’t bothering to check for vitals. It was obvious from the extent of their injuries that they were dead as well.

All of them, including the two dead men with the ladder, looked Caucasian to Harvath. American. Not a single one of them looked Iranian.

Pointing down at one of the attackers lying in a congealing pool of blood on the patio, McGee said, “I think I recognize this guy.”

“From where?”

“I think he was Agency. Maybe a contractor.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Harvath replied.

McGee shook his head and, taking out his phone, began taking pictures of all the corpses.

As he did, Harvath told him not to bother with the two around the corner and had Haney go get Rogers and bring him back downstairs.

When the Ambassador stepped through the broken glass of the living room and out onto the patio, Harvath asked him if he recognized any of the attackers.

He took his time, examining each one, but ended up shaking his head. “I haven’t seen any of these men before,” he responded. “Who the hell are they?”

“I’ve got no idea,” said Harvath as he patted them down. Not a single one of them was carrying any ID or a phone. It was another professional job.

Returning from examining the rest of the bodies, McGee held up his cell phone and showed Rogers pictures of the two men who had been attempting to scale the roof.

Harvath and McGee watched as the color drained from the man’s face.

“That’s them,” the Ambassador stated. “Those are the men who came after me yesterday in Rock Creek Park.”