Takedown

One Hundred Two

Forgoing Casemates Square altogether, Mohammed bin Mohammed walked up to the main post office, where he turned onto Bell Lane and headed for a long set of stairs known as Castle Street. Partway up on the left was a large sign that read Charles’ Hole-in-the-Wall. Harvath had only to observe a couple of the customers heading inside to know what kind of a club it was.

On the bright side, he figured a handsome single man with his eyes constantly sca

He gave Mohammed a few minutes to get himself settled and then headed inside.

The dimly lit interior was awash in a fog of cigarette smoke. Eighties dance music blared from the sound system while patrons danced, drank, or made conversation. At a small table on the other side of the room, Mohammed bin Mohammed sipped a cocktail and surveyed the scene.

Harvath would have preferred to have taken him in a dark doorway or between a couple of parked cars somewhere outside, but it was high season in Gibraltar and the streets were just too crowded. That was okay with Harvath, though. He could just as easily do what he needed to do here. The only thing different would be which weapon he used, and he had plenty to choose from.

With his untucked linen shirt hiding the deadly array of tools affixed to his carbon-fiber belt, Harvath leaned back against the bar and tried to decide how best to make his move. Because he wanted to make this as personal as possible, a knife seemed the best choice. Considering how dark the bar was, he could slide up right next to the man, plunge the weapon in, and tear it right across his abdominal cavity with no one near Mohammed bin Mohammed being any the wiser.

Harvath would be able to sit with him and maybe even have a drink as he watched him die. Then, all Harvath would have to do would be to gently lay the man’s head on the table and it would look like he’d passed out from too much to drink. It wouldn’t take too long for the other patrons to notice something was wrong, but by the time they did, Harvath would be long gone.

As he stood up to make his move, a young man entered the establishment and, after flitting around for a moment or two, made his way over to Mohammed bin Mohammed’s table and sat down.

With no choice but to wait it out, Harvath ordered a beer and kept his eyes glued to the table. There was no way he could kill Mohammed when there was a witness present.

After two more rounds of cocktails, Mohammed and the boy stood up to leave. Harvath left some money on the bar, and once the pair had passed him, he counted to twenty and followed them outside.

As the two walked, Mohammed slid his hand down the boy’s back and let it linger on his rear end. Harvath hoped that when he dispatched Mohammed to the hereafter, Allah would have a very special cell waiting for him.

When they arrived at the villa, Harvath took up the post he had been using to surveil the house for the past couple of nights. He would wait until the boy left and then he’d sneak inside and take Mohammed out. Though he wasn’t crazy about having to wait, there was nothing he could do about it. Harvath had no desire to kill an i

The al-Qaeda operative led the boy out onto the veranda, then stepped back inside to make another cocktail. As he did so, Harvath noticed movement at the other end of the house.

As his eyes swung in that direction, he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. Inside were two enormous white wolves that were carefully making their way toward bin Mohammed.

One Hundred Three

When Harvath looked closer, he realized that what he was seeing weren’t wolves at all, but rather two extremely large dogs. They resembled the type of animal he’d seen the Russian army use. They also appeared to both be wearing harnesses of some sort. And where there were dogs, Harvath knew there was normally a handler, though for the moment he couldn’t see one.

He watched as the animals silently crept forward-obviously taking great pains so as not to be detected. Harvath was marveling at their discipline, when he finally saw the handler. It was only a glimpse at first and then, as one of the animals turned, he could make the figure out in its entirely. It was amazing. From Harvath’s vantage point the man couldn’t have been more than two-and-a-half to three-feet tall, max. The dogs towered over him.

Harvath focused on the bizarre weapon the man was carrying. It looked like it was crafted of plastic-style polymers and some kind of alloy. Obviously, it had been custom-made to accommodate the dwarf’s small size. But who the hell was he and what did he want with Mohammed bin Mohammed? Were the people Mohammed was doing the nuke deal with trying to double-cross him?

Leaping the small wall at the far end of the veranda, Harvath took cover just as Mohammed bin Mohammed stepped outside with a drink in each hand, oblivious to the threat quickly advancing on him from within the villa.

Handing one of the cocktails to his guest, Mohammed prepared to lie down alongside him on the chaise, when suddenly he heard a terrible growling from behind. Spi

“Who are you?” demanded Mohammed. “What do you want?”

The dwarf signaled for the boy to rise from the lounge chair and step away from his host. Mohammed was surprised to see the young man so readily comply. His confusion evaporated as the young man approached the dwarf, stuck out his hand, and was given several large bills before quickly leaving the villa.

At the dwarf’s command, the dogs fell silent.

“Who are you?” repeated Mohammed. “What do you want?”

The Troll smiled. “You don’t remember me, do you?”

“Of course not. We’ve never met. I have absolutely no idea who you are.”

“You may not remember me, but surely you remember the Black Sea. There was a brothel near the town of Sochi.”

What little color remained in the al-Qaeda operative’s face now completely drained away. Could this be the same dwarf? If it was, then yes, he did remember him. He remembered the brothel too. Mohammed had wanted a very young boy, not a dwarf, but when the madam and her husband said that the dwarf was the best they were able to do, he had decided it was better than nothing and had had his way with him. Afterward, he had felt so disgusted with himself that he had beaten the little creature almost to death. If it hadn’t been for the quick thinking of one of the whores, who was able to give the dwarf the breath of life and compress his chest until his heart restarted, he would never have returned to the realm of the living.

“I paid dearly for that misunderstanding,” replied Mohammed. “The proprietors’ silence did not come cheap.”

“You might have paid them, but you never paid me,” answered the Troll. “I spent a good part of my life looking for you. When the Americans took you into custody, I was prepared to let you rot, but then you escaped. So tonight I will recoup what is owed me, with interest.”

“How did you know I was held by the Americans?”

“Because he was the one who turned you in,” said Abdul Ali as he stepped from the shadow of the villa.

As exceptional as the dogs were, they had never even detected the assassin’s approach. Now they began barking at both Mohammed bin Mohammed and Abdul Ali.