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T he review at the Willis estate had been done last fall, soon after Scot had returned from spending most of the summer in Norway with S?lvi.

It had been sandwiched between a quick but very dangerous assignment in China and a string of brutal, back-to-back operations that had taken him to Tajikistan, Afghanistan, India, and the war-torn front lines of Ukraine.

Nicholas and Gary Lawlor, who had been running day-to-day operations at the Carlton Group, had been punishing him.

They had wanted him in the office full-time, so they had handed him the lucrative, low-stress Willis security review as an example of the easy life he could be enjoying if he would simply hang up his cleats and weld himself to a desk. The plan backfired.

After getting caught up in one of S?lvi’s operations and the subsequent blackmail attempt by the CIA, he had made up his mind to walk away from the Carlton Group. Although truly walking away was proving to be quite difficult.

While he and McGee waited to hear back from McGee’s CIA source and to see what Nicholas could do with the files on the first batch of attackers, they discussed the best way to confront Hale.

Because the Willis family had been a client, they debated bringing Mr. Willis into their confidence.

But as easy at that might seem, it was loaded with pitfalls, not the least of which being that it was unprofessional and could seriously damage the Carlton Group’s reputation.

There was no way Lawlor—who was currently on vacation in Europe—would ever allow it, especially not without concrete evidence that Hale was dirty.

There was also the risk that Willis himself couldn’t be trusted; that he might tip their hand to Hale and that the ex-operative might have a very nasty surprise waiting for Harvath when he showed up.

That possibility alone was enough to disqualify Willis.

The element of surprise was too valuable.

Trading it for easier access to Hale wasn’t worth it.

Harvath would have to devise a plan without him.

In addition to not roping in Willis, there was a discussion of whether Nicholas might break their way in and, if so, how much he should be told.

Regardless of Harvath’s current state of “non” employment with the Carlton Group, if any of this went wrong and he was caught on the Willis estate, it wouldn’t look good.

It would look like he was using proprietary knowledge gained as a contractor to the Willis family for his own ends, which was exactly what he was planning to do.

And even if Nicholas was tempted to go along with it, his involvement, if exposed, would make things exponentially worse for the company.

A man like Willis could sue the Carlton Group out of existence.

Out of loyalty to the firm’s founder, a man who had been like a father to Harvath, he owed it to Reed Carlton not to be reckless with the company.

Many good, patriotic people counted on it for their livelihood.

Harvath needed to take every precaution to make sure that those people were protected.

Bottom line: Any plan they developed to get to Hale could only include him and McGee.

Harvath still remembered the Willis estate. It was impossible to forget. The sale of the eighteen-acre estate, listed at $60 million, marked the most expensive residential real estate transaction ever in the greater Washington area.

Named “River Edge,” the gated waterfront home along the Potomac was only five and a half miles north of Harvath’s.

Built in the American Federalist style, the house had eight bedrooms and something crazy like fifteen bathrooms. Wherever possible, the rooms were built to capitalize on their stunning views of the Potomac.

The home had a massive game room, a twenty-seat movie theater, a spa with an indoor pool, a luxury family kitchen, plus a commercial chef’s kitchen for big events.

There was a three-bedroom, three-bath guesthouse on the property, as well as a carriage house with a four-car garage and a studio apartment above, where Hale was likely staying.

When Harvath had conducted his security review, he had done so with the mindset of someone wanting to either steal from or physically do the Willis family harm.

Sophisticated thieves looking to target the family’s priceless art collection.

Environmentalists angry at the global pollution they believed Willis Chemicals had caused.

Extremist factions unhappy with the political stances and donations of the family.

Kidnappers hoping to snatch Mrs. Willis or one of their children to hold for ransom.

The list of possible intruders had been extensive and Harvath had worked hard to see the estate through all of their eyes as each would have had a different approach. He and the Carlton Group had been hired to literally think of everything.

Having done red-teaming as a SEAL, testing the security of American military bases and other governmental installations around the world, it was something Harvath had become quite good at. He had applied that same knowledge and expertise to the security review for the Willis family.

The question, however, was how much had Mr. and Mrs. Willis taken to heart? How many of the recommended upgrades had they made?

According to McGee, they had spared no expense.

But did that mean they had gone with best-in-class commercial products, or did they actually buy military-grade equipment?

It was impossible to know because the technical improvements weren’t Harvath’s area of expertise and by the time they had ordered everything and were updating their property, he was already halfway around the world on his next mission.

This was where having Nicholas on board really could have made a difference.

Not only would he have been aware of what the Willis family had opted to purchase, but he would have also known how to turn it all off.

Had he wanted, with a handful of keystrokes, Nicholas could have opened up a hole in the Willis security net big enough for Harvath to drive Haney’s Bronco through.

At the same time, such a request might have run the chance of offending him. Nicholas was not the same thieving, mercenary man he had once been twenty years ago. Finding a purpose greater than himself had changed him and it was Harvath who had led him to that greater purpose.

The Carlton Group had become Nicholas’s family—the most precious thing in the world for a person abandoned by his own parents.

The stability and purpose it provided had, in turn, led to a real, true family of Nicholas’s own via Nina and their new baby.

It was a life he had never allowed himself to dare dream of.

But as happy as Harvath had been for his friend, there were days when he missed the old Nicholas—a man willing to do the most expedient thing regardless of the costs.

Nevertheless, he had to come up with something and pushed a series of arguments around in his head.

Could he create an appeal to family that would sway Nicholas?

Scot and S?lvi, the godparents of Nicholas’s daughter, had both come under attack.

Hale was looking like he could have been behind the siege on the Secret Service motorcade, as well as Ambassador Rogers’s house.

He might have even orchestrated the attack on the protesters and police outside the Naval Observatory that had spilled into Ambassador Hansen’s residence, killing two of her security agents and critically injuring the chef.

Shouldn’t Nicholas want to help Harvath ascertain if Hale was involved?

What about the Willis family? If Hale was guilty of all the things Harvath suspected him of, what responsibility did the Carlton Group have to the Willises, even if the company hadn’t consulted on his being hired as their chief of security?

If any other sort of threat ever came to Nicholas’s attention, would he bury it?

Or would he find a way to get to the bottom of it?

It was a thorny issue, one that Harvath didn’t enjoy wrestling with. The older he got, the more he both understood and disliked the ambiguity of his former profession. It required a certain moral flexibility that took a lot of energy to justify.

Ultimately, however, if he wanted Nicholas’s help, which he did, he was going to have to shoot him straight and let the chips fall where they may.

Excusing himself, he got up from the table and told McGee he needed to make a call.

As he walked back to his office, he texted Nicholas and asked if he was free for a quick chat. He needed a favor. A serious one.