Near Dark (Scot Harvath #19)(68)

“Because if there wasn’t a connection, we didn’t want you to have already convinced yourselves that he was the guy you were looking for.”

“Hold on,” she stated. “Within hours of us notifying your government about how Carl’s assassin was compiling information about you, an assassin shows up to kill you—and you don’t think there’s a connection?”

“We think there’s a connection. We just don’t know how direct it is.”

“For someone who’s supposed to be so good at this, you make no sense.”

Harvath decided to let the other shoe drop. “We have reason to believe there’s a contract out on me, one hundred million dollars, let to a pool of professional killers. Whoever gets me first, gets the money.”

S?lvi didn’t know where to begin. “One hundred million? What the hell did you do to the Russians?”

“It’s a long story. Right now, I think we need to focus on how we’re going to handle Landsbergis.”

“You’re right,” she relented, checking her phone and noticing how close the VSD man was getting. “But after, we’re going to finish this conversation.”

She reminded him a lot of Carl—she was smart, intense, and totally direct when she needed to be. Yet, there was an underlying sense of humor, a willingness to smile or make a joke in a tough situation. In short, he liked that. More to the point, he liked her. And that scared the hell out of him.





CHAPTER 31


Filip Landsbergis arrived alone in a black 1980s Alfa Romeo Spider. When he rolled into his driveway, the soft canvas top was down, his suit jacket was off, and his briefcase was on the seat next to him.

Producing a remote from the center console, he opened the garage door. But instead of driving in, he parked several meters away, turned off the engine, and stepped out of his vehicle. Harvath, who was watching everything unfold via the drone, didn’t like it.

First, only a fool—or someone extremely careless—drove with the top down and something valuable, like a briefcase, on the open seat next to them. In most places, it was an invitation to get robbed.

The other thing he didn’t like, was that Landsbergis had opened the garage door, but hadn’t proceeded in. The fact that he had his jacket off also gnawed at the edges of his mind. He looked for the Glock that the man was supposed to be carrying, or any weapon for that matter, but didn’t see one. He looked way too relaxed, too casual. Was it intentional? Did he know Harvath was there and was trying to put him at ease?

Maybe his jacket was off because he was enjoying the warm weather on the drive home. Maybe crime between his office and his house didn’t concern him. And maybe he had left the car in the driveway because he was going to wash it this evening. All of the behavior, while it felt odd to Harvath, was explainable.

When Landsbergis examined the edge of his driveway and began to pull some scattered weeds, Harvath’s concern again ticked up. Was he stalling, waiting for men to get into position—men Harvath couldn’t see? Or was Harvath just jumpy like he had been about the old woman outside Luk?a’s?

“As far as I can tell,” said S?lvi, looking at the feed from the drone, “unless he’s got someone stashed in his trunk, he’s alone.”

“He doesn’t appear to be in any hurry to come inside.”

“It’s beautiful outside. Why would he?”

“I don’t like it,” he replied.

“Then what do you want to do?”

Harvath signaled for her to follow as he headed into the dining room. “We exit via the side door. I go around the front, meet him head-on in the driveway. You cut across the back and provide cover. Keep your eyes on his vehicle. If things go bad, flank him.”

S?lvi nodded and hooked to her right the moment she stepped outside. Harvath hooked to his left and as he moved, called Nicholas.

“Landsbergis is back,” he said, when the little man picked up. “I need you to be my eyes. We’ve gone out to confront him. I’m going around front and Carl’s protégé is going around back. I’ve got an earbud in and am going to leave this call active. If you see something, say something.”

“Good copy,” Nicholas replied. “Roger that.”

With his P226 tucked into his waistband and his encrypted cell phone returned to his back pocket, Harvath stepped out from behind the corner of the house and walked slowly across the front lawn.

His eyes scanned for threats, but didn’t see any. When Landsbergis caught sight of him, Harvath locked eyes on the man and held his gaze as he closed the distance between them.

The VSD man was in his early forties, tall, with blond hair. “You,” he said, surprised to see Harvath. “What are you doing here?”

“I’d prefer to talk inside,” said Harvath.

“Is everything okay? What’s going on?”

“Inside,” Harvath repeated.

“No problem,” Landsbergis responded, pointing toward the garage and indicating that his visitor should go first.

Harvath demurred and gestured for the Lithuanian to take the lead. There was no way he was going to turn his back on him.

When they entered the garage and were out of sight of any prying eyes, Harvath ordered him, “Stop and put your hands against the wall.”