Near Dark (Scot Harvath #19)(56)
“That about sums it up,” said Harvath, nodding.
“What are you doing here? Why aren’t you in a bunker somewhere? They can’t kill you if they can’t find you. Isn’t there anyone else who can get to the bottom of this?”
It was the argument Gary Lawlor had made. That he was only making it easier on the people out there who were competing to kill him. And this was a key point upon which he had disagreed. The hardest target to hit was a moving target. It was the guy who sat still, the stationary target, who would be easier to pick off.
“I was the architect of everything that led up to Carl’s murder,” Harvath admitted. “That makes me responsible for what happened to him.”
Proctor shook his head. “The person who killed him is responsible. Not you.”
“With all due respect, Admiral, he was tortured by someone trying to get to me. The way I see it, if it hadn’t been for me, he’d still be alive. That’s why I’m here. I know every detail of what we did together. There isn’t someone else we could have put in the field who would have been able to process and sort the information the way I can.”
It wasn’t an unreasonable argument. In fact, based on everything the Admiral knew about him, Harvath probably was the best person for the job. That didn’t mean, though, that he wasn’t concerned for him. If there really was a one-hundred-million-dollar bounty on his head people would be selling out their own family members to get to him.
“So,” Proctor relented, “how can we help?”
“For right now, you’ve already done it. By clearing me to land here, arranging my flight to Lithuania, and having a car waiting—that’s all the help I need.”
“I did that, though, because I had orders from the SecDef. I didn’t know ‘Brenner’ was actually you.”
“And as long as we keep that a secret amongst us, everything else will be fine.”
“Are you sure?”
“I may need even more help, but it’ll depend on how everything unfolds.”
The Admiral smiled. “If it involves violating Russian airspace, providing close air support, or repositioning highly specialized aircraft to get you out, you know who to call.”
“I do,” said Harvath. “And by the way, I remain very grateful.”
“Why the hell would you go back to Lithuania?” Jasinski asked, changing the subject. “What thread could be that important?”
“It was our launching point for Kaliningrad—and was the last place Carl and I ever saw each other. There are a couple of leads there I want to run down. If I’m right, I’ll be on top of Carl’s killer in the next twenty-four to forty-eight hours.”
“And if you’re wrong?”
Harvath looked at her. “Then we should say our goodbyes here, because that means he’s going to be on top of me.”
CHAPTER 25
OUTSIDE VILNIUS, LITHUANIA
After wrapping up his meeting, Harvath had Williams drive him to the Chièvres PX to pick up food for his flight to ?iauliai. Proctor and Jasinski had offered to take him out for a meal, but he declined. He wasn’t in the mood to be social. His head was in the game, and that’s where it needed to stay.
When the C-130 Hercules was ready for takeoff, Williams pulled up as close as he could to the enormous aircraft and helped Harvath transfer his gear.
Once everything was stowed, they shook hands, Harvath thanked him, and they wished each other well.
As he boarded and found a seat, an aircrew member handed Harvath a pack of foam earplugs. Normally on missions, he brought his own. This time, though, someone else had put together his kit and he had forgotten to ask for them. The noise level in the four-engine turboprop cargo plane could be quite high. Thankfully, this crew had thought ahead. That wasn’t always the case. He had been on plenty of ops where if you weren’t prepared, you were out of luck.
The nylon webbing seats bolted to the fuselage were a far cry from the plush leather seats of the C-37B he had crossed the Atlantic on, but all that mattered was the destination, not the journey.
He rolled his earplugs and stuck them in as the C-130 thundered down the runway and lifted off. Once it was level, he unpacked his lunch and ate. He had thought about picking up a six-pack to bring on board, but had decided against it. All he needed was some overzealous MP at ?iauliai smelling beer on his breath and preventing him from driving off the base. He had too much work to do and time was of the essence.
While Landsbergis was his ultimate target, he wanted to pay Luk?a, the Lithuanian truck driver, a visit first. If he really had been beaten up by the Russians, Harvath wanted that intel straight from the horse’s mouth. He wanted to confront Landsbergis having assembled as much information as possible.
Besides, going to speak with Luk?a wasn’t too much of a detour. According to Nicholas, he lived in a working-class suburb of the capital. And considering the extent of his injuries, Harvath felt relatively certain the man wouldn’t be tough to track down. In fact, he would have been surprised if he wasn’t laid up at home, watching TV, and being taken care of by his wife.
Landing at ?iauliai, he was met by an Air Force officer who checked his ID and handed him the keys to a black Toyota Land Cruiser, idling on the tarmac. No further words were exchanged. After Harvath had loaded his gear, he plugged Luk?a’s address into his GPS, headed for the nearest gate, and exited the base.