Rising Tiger: A Thriller (23)

“Or you could stop dating strippers,” said Johnson.

“Or,” offered Preisler, “maybe glue a bunch of razors to an ice scraper instead of paying the salon for all those back waxes?”

This time, it was Morrison’s turn to give everyone the finger.

Harvath smiled. They were the best team he had ever worked with. He couldn’t think of anyone else he would want in a battle.

Once the pilots had completed their preflight, the hangar doors were opened and a tug pushed the aircraft out onto the tarmac.

The men found seats and settled down, sipping their bourbon as they got ready for takeoff.

As the plane’s engines powered up and the tug detached, the Gulfstream headed toward the runway. Then suddenly it came to a stop.

Everyone leaned into their windows, trying to figure out what was happening.

“This probably isn’t good,” said Staelin.

The captain came over the PA system and told Harvath there was a call for him on the encrypted satellite phone.

Harvath picked up the nearest handset. It was Nicholas. “You need to deplane.”

“All of us?”

“No,” said the little man. “Just you. Step out clean. Leave your phone, passport, and anything else that can identify you. Don’t bring any weapons.”

“Why? What’s going on?”

“On your port side, you should be able to see a vehicle approaching. The man inside is named Leahy. He’ll explain.”





CHAPTER 14


The United States Embassy to Tajikistan was north of the Ayni Air Base and just west of central Dushanbe. It was a sleek, newer facility that reminded Harvath a lot of the U.S. Embassy to Norway.

America took great pride in being one of the first countries in the world to have recognized Tajikistan’s independence after it split from the Soviet Union in the early 1990s. In the three decades since, the United States had invested more than two billion dollars in the Central Asian nation and had established strong security cooperation. They were an important partner in the region and Washington remained keen to enhance the relationship in whatever manner it could.

Leahy, the twentysomething CIA operative who had picked Harvath up, had been in-country for less than a year.

“What’s it been like?” Harvath had asked, making small talk as they left the airport and headed toward the embassy.

“Dushanbe? A bit like Mos Eisley.”

Harvath grinned at the Star Wars reference to the spaceport on Tatooine. “You will never find a more wretched hive of scum and villainy,” he said in his best Obi-Wan Kenobi voice.

Leahy nodded. “There’s a bit of everything going on here and everyone is on the make—jockeying for position—especially the Russians and the Chinese. The older Tajiks, unfortunately, still have a somewhat limiting Soviet-style mind-set. The younger generation, born after independence, are much more optimistic and open to entrepreneurship. The best people to deal with here, however, are the Indians.

“They’re smart, clear-eyed, and understand how their interests are aligned with the Tajiks’, especially when it comes to Chinese expansionism. India even set up its first-ever overseas base at Farkhor.”

“For its air force, right?”

“Correct,” said the young CIA operative. “Around 1996, India’s Research and Analysis Wing negotiated rights to use it in order to support the Afghan Northern Alliance against the Taliban. The Indian Air Force has been here ever since.”

“Which puts them in close striking distance of the Pakistani-administered portion of Kashmir, as well as the Pakistani city of Peshawar.”

“Like I said,” Leahy replied with a smile, “they’re both clear-eyed and smart.”

Harvath didn’t disagree. “How’s the food?”

“If you’re in the capital, not bad. Chinese, Mexican, Italian, there’s a little bit of everything—even burgers. But as soon as you leave Dushanbe, the quality and selection drops off a cliff.”

“Par for the course in the ‘Stans.’ A post like this builds character. What do you do for fun?”

“I like to fish,” said Leahy.

“Is the fishing any good in Tajikistan?”

“You’d be surprised. Even though it’s the smallest of the Central Asian nations, it’s covered with rivers and lakes—more than a thousand of them. And thanks to all the breeding and stocking they’re doing, the fishing is excellent.”

You learned something new every day. Fishing wasn’t exactly the first thing Harvath normally thought about when he thought about Tajikistan. Not even top ten. But it would be now.

When they arrived at the embassy, Leahy badged Harvath in and took him to their SCIF. A table with food, coffee, and waters had been set up outside.

“You’ve got about thirty minutes before your videoconference,” the young man said. “There’s a bathroom, with a shower, down the hall to your left. My desk is the one with the Chicago Bears flag. If you need anything and I’m not here, pick up my phone and have the embassy operator track me down.”

Harvath thanked him, grabbed a mug of coffee, and wheeled his bag toward the bathroom in pursuit of a nice, hot shower. It wouldn’t make up for his lack of sleep, but it would be the next-best thing.