Rising Tiger: A Thriller (24)

He then returned to the sensitive compartmented information facility showered, shaved, and in a fresh set of clothes. He poured more coffee and assembled a small breakfast of yogurt, hard-boiled eggs, and fresh fruit, which he carried into the SCIF.

Via the sat phone aboard the Carlton Group jet, Nicholas had said that Leahy would explain why Harvath was staying behind while everyone else was taking off and headed back to D.C. All the young CIA operative had told him was that Harvath was needed for a secure videoconference, after which Leahy would be transporting him from the embassy to Dushanbe International. It wasn’t much of an explanation of anything.

A few minutes before the appointed time, Leahy entered the SCIF and fired up the encrypted videoconferencing system. Harvath had assumed he’d be interacting with his office, but when he saw a screen saver on the other side indicating that the call was going to be with the White House, he quickly retrieved a travel blazer from his bag and put it on. Whatever this was about, it was happening at the very top.

He took a couple of bites of food, chugged some water, and, grabbing a pad and pen, made sure he was one hundred percent ready for the meeting. When the clock hit the top of the hour, the video went live.

Harvath instantly recognized the interior of the White House Situation Room. It was a ten-hour time difference between Dushanbe and D.C. He guessed most of the people gathered around the long, polished table had probably already called home to let their families know that they were going to be missing dinner. And judging by who was assembled, he knew that whatever they wanted to talk about was extremely serious.

President Paul Porter, a Montana native who resembled a modernized version of the Marlboro Man, got straight to business. “You did a hell of a job in Kabul. Well done.”

“Thank you, sir,” Harvath replied.

“I have a packed schedule tonight, so I’m going to make my part of this short. First, I want to extend my condolences. I know you had occasionally worked with a State Department employee named Eli Ritter and that the two of you were friends. His death comes as a shock to us all and we are sorry for your loss.”

Harvath was stunned. He and Ritter had indeed worked a handful of assignments together and had developed a friendship. But Ritter had gone into the private sector. Why was he on the president’s radar? “What happened?”

“He was murdered. Yesterday, in Jaipur.”

“Do we know who killed him?”

“Not yet. The Indian Police are leaning toward it being a robbery gone bad. We’re not so sure. So, that’s what we want you to find out,” said Porter. “The team here will fill you in. I just want to express how serious Mr. Ritter’s work was and how important it is that you get to the bottom of what happened.”

“I understand, Mr. President,” Harvath replied, even though he had very little to go on. “You can count on me.”

“Good. I believe you already know our new chairman of the Joint Chiefs.”

“I do, sir. The admiral and I go back many years.”

“Then I’ll leave you to it.”

The other participants stood as the president left the room. Once they were settled back in their seats, Admiral David Proctor took over the meeting.

The man had worn many hats in his long and storied career. Until his most recent promotion, he had been NATO’s SACEUR, or Supreme Allied Commander Europe. Harvath had worked with him both in his NATO capacity as well as back when he headed up the United States Special Operations Command.

But most important was when Harvath had been taken prisoner in Russia. It was Proctor who had sent in the planes that had saved his life and had gotten his whole team out. He would be forever in his debt.

As this was an official meeting and there were multiple other people in the room, they kept their interaction professional.

Proctor began by echoing what the president had said about Ritter. When he segued into his briefing and saw Harvath pick up his pen, he stated, “No notes. Nothing on your end can be written down.”

Harvath set down the pen and leaned forward, all ears.

The admiral began with an ominous question. “What do you know about the Chinese military strategy referred to as the String of Pearls?”





CHAPTER 15


Harvath was familiar with the String of Pearls strategy. It was the maritime extension of Beijing’s Belt and Road Initiative, but much more dangerous.

With the Belt and Road Initiative, China was investing in infrastructure projects from East Asia to Europe—ports, roads, bridges, highway, and rail networks—in order to purchase influence and create dependence across sixty countries. It was in the process of spending north of twenty trillion dollars and would end up reaching nearly sixty percent of the world’s population.

Once a country took China’s money, it was like being on the hook to a particularly nasty loan shark. At that point, Beijing had its nose inside your tent and could begin to push for what it wanted to have happen in your country’s affairs—both domestic and international.

In addition, Beijing was always on the hunt for territorial toeholds. That was what made the String of Pearls so unsettling.

The “string” was a route that wound from mainland China, through the Indian Ocean, around the Horn of Africa. The “pearls” were stops along the way where the Chinese had invested heavily in “port projects” and, in return, had been granted docking and staging rights.