Page 119 of Spymaster

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When the appointed time neared, Harvath went back and forth about whom to put outside. Sloane was the obvious choice, as a good-looking woman was probably not what the cops were looking for. But a good-looking woman loitering at a truck stop created a whole different sort of potential trouble for the team.

That wasn’t to say she couldn’t handle herself—she absolutely could—but it might very quickly turn into a problem. Instead, Harvath decided to send out Chase.

He didn’t need to be told to make himself scarce. He was functioning as a lookout. If he could do so from a concealed position, all the better.

He found an excellent position behind a stack of discarded pallets. From there, he could see most of the eastern side of the truck stop. That was where the pickup was supposed to occur.

The only problem with his position, besides its limited field of sight, was that it afforded no avenues of escape.

When the police came back through a third time and decided to do an even more aggressive search, Chase realized it wasn’t just him who was in trouble, but his whole team.

It didn’t take the cops long to find him. Yelling in Russian, they told him to step out from behind the pallets.

He obliged them, but just partly, stepping out from behind the stack of pallets only enough to reveal the left side of his body.

When the first cop moved to call it in over his radio, the second cop, standing next to him, went for his gun. That was when Chase fired.

His suppressed Glock had been in his right hand the entire time. Firing through the open space in the pallets, he killed both of the Russians instantly.

Harvath was the first one out of the car wash to help him scrub the scene.

“I’ll handle the bodies,” he said. “You figure out how we get one more vehicle inside.”

It was the kind of puzzle the Army gave to its Green Beret recruits—like Jeeps with only three wheels that need to be moved right away to a life-or-death location.

Rushing back inside the car wash, Chase surveyed the scene and quickly realized that if they slanted the vehicles, they could squeeze one more in, which is exactly what they did.

By the time Harvath had put the bodies in the back of the police car and had driven it up to the car wash, a space was ready and waiting for him. Once again, Chase was proving how capable he was.

The vehicle secure and no one the wiser, Harvath sent Chase back out to resume his post.

Inserting a fresh magazine into his weapon, he did as he was told and headed back outside.

Twenty minutes later, their ride arrived. He had backed in, along the east side, so as to make it as easy as possible for Harvath and his team to climb up into his trailer without being seen.

“You, too,” the Lithuanian truck driver from earlier that morning said.

Harvath shook his head. “Nope. I’m riding with you. Let’s go.”

It wasn’t a request. The driver shook his head and, after closing the trailer doors, came back around front and hopped up into the cab. Harvath joined him on the passenger side.

“I was almost home,” he said, putting his rig in gear and pulling out of the truck stop. “Then I get a message that I must turn around and come to get you.”

“We appreciate it,” said Harvath. “Thank you.”

“Tell me the Russians will be unhappy.”

Harvath smiled. “I think the Russians will beveryunhappy.”

The old man smiled back.

They rode together without speaking. As the Lithuanian listened to his radio, Harvath put his head back and closed his eyes. He needed to rest up. Their exfil was going to suck.

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When he felt the truck slow, he opened his eyes and looked at his watch. He had been out for well over an hour. “Where are we?” he asked.