Страница 18 из 87
“Goaltender is coming here? You’ve got to be kidding me. What for?”
“Apparently he wants to talk to the prisoner himself.”
“But that car could have easily been stolen. How do we know this is the guy it’s really registered to?”
“I described the prisoner to him myself and we also got a DMV photo match. Goaltender says to take the cuffs off, but not to let him out of your sight until he gets here.”
As his colleague left the kitchen, the man removed a key and unlocked Harvath’s cuffs. “It looks like I’m done asking the questions for the time being.”
“Then I’ve got more than a few of my own,” replied Harvath. “Why don’t we start out by you telling me who the hell you are and who you work for?”
“I’d take it easy if I were you,” said the man as he finished uncuffing Harvath. “Goaltender will be here soon enough and believe me, when he asks you a question, you’d better answer it.”
“Who the hell is this Goaltender? What is he some kind of a hockey buff?”
“Oh, don’t worry. You’ll recognize him the minute you see him. And keep in mind,” said the man, “that while he’s talking to you, I’m going to be on the other side of the room sharpening my pruning shears. All it will take is one nod from him and I’m going to finish what I started.”
“What’s to stop me from taking out your precious Goaltender? It seems to me it would have been smarter to leave my handcuffs on.”
The man smiled and said, “Part of me would like to see you try, but then again there’s part of me that wants at least a little piece of you left for myself. You’d never make it. They’d tear you to shreds. Goaltender has the best bodyguards in the world.”
Harvath had to laugh.
“What’s so fu
“That’s one area that I can guarantee my people do better than anyone else.”
“We’ll see,” said the man.
“You bet we will,” replied Harvath.
Chapter 15
After removing his handcuffs, Harvath’s interrogators gathered all of the equipment from the long table and left him alone in the kitchen. It only took a few minutes to confirm his suspicions that though nobody was in the room, he was still being watched. The entire kitchen was covered by several strategically placed miniature cameras. A further visual exploration of the room revealed sophisticated intrusion detection systems and a discretely mounted air quality monitor, the kind used to check for airborne particles a lot more dangerous than pollen and ragweed. Whoever owned this place had certainly put a lot of money into it and took its security very seriously.
Harvath found a clean mug and poured himself a cup of coffee from the pot brewing next to the stove. Peering out of the window above the sink, he learned several things. The first was that the window was made from thick synthetic glass, most likely bulletproof. The next was more of a confirmation of an earlier gut feeling-he was indeed in the middle of nowhere.
Finally, after much persistent squinting against the light from behind him in the kitchen he was able to discern several men in winter camouflage on patrol outside. Whoever this Goaltender was, he took his security seriously and money seemed to be no object. Though it was good, there was still no way it could be anywhere near as thorough as what the United States Secret Service provided the president.
That thought was still swirling around Harvath’s head along with what possible clandestine purpose the fortified farmhouse could possibly serve and what these people wanted with him, when he heard the telltale sounds of an approaching helicopter. It came in quickly and landed even faster. Whoever the pilots were, they were very good. Harvath had no idea the helicopter was even there until seconds before it landed.
Through the swirl of snow kicked up by the unmarked, blacked-out craft, Harvath could see a group of people hop out and quickly make their way toward the house. As soon as the party cleared the rotors, the helicopter lifted off and disappeared. It was done with military precision and Harvath had to admit he was more than a little impressed.
He assumed that the mysterious Goaltender was a member of the party who had just been dropped off outside and he readied himself for the encounter.
Two of the men who had taken him prisoner at Frank Leighton’s house entered the kitchen and instructed Harvath to set his coffee cup down. They quickly searched him to make sure he hadn’t secreted anything outside the view of the cameras that could be used as a weapon and then pointed him to a lone chair on the far wall of the kitchen. These people were obviously extremely careful and took nothing for granted. Harvath had to hand it to them. It was exactly the way he would have done things.
He took his seat as instructed and waited. From beyond the kitchen, there was a chorus of indistinguishable voices as the party from the helicopter entered the house. Several minutes passed and then the voices grew louder as the party approached the kitchen. When the first member of Goaltender’s security detail entered, Harvath’s jaw nearly hit the floor.
“Palmer?” he said, the confusion clearly resonating in his voice.
“Harvath?” replied Secret Service agent, Kate Palmer. “What the hell are you doing here?”
“Apparently, the local 4H club has an interesting way of soliciting new members,” said Harvath as he began to stand up.
“Don’t stand, Scot. I need you to remain seated until I say otherwise,” replied Palmer as three other agents entered behind her and swept the kitchen.
Harvath recognized two of the other three Secret Service agents as former colleagues of his from the president’s protective detail. Though he nodded to them, they ignored him until they had determined that the room was completely secure.
“What the hell is going on here?” asked Harvath.
Kate Palmer spoke to the agents, who then left the room, before turning her attention back to Harvath. “We’ve got a very big problem that I am not at liberty to go into. You’re free to stand up now if you want.”
“Thanks,” said Harvath as he rose from his chair. “What do you mean, you can’t go into it?”
“I’m not authorized to discuss it.”
“Well who is?”
“I am,” said a voice from the entryway to the kitchen, which Harvath immediately recognized.
“Mr. President,” he replied even before he had fully turned around.
Kate Palmer spoke into her sleeve microphone, “Goaltender will be ready to travel shortly. All teams be prepared to move.”
Harvath looked back at Agent Palmer and then turned to the president and said, “You’re Goaltender? Your call sign has always been Hat Trick. Why the change? What’s going on here?”
“You and I have a lot to talk about, Scot,” responded President Rutledge. “Agent Palmer, if you would be kind enough to show the defense secretary in and give us the room, please.”
“Right away, Mr. President,” said Agent Palmer as she exited the kitchen.
Once Defense Secretary Robert Hilliman had entered the room and the rest of the Secret Service agents had left, the president said, “Scot, I’d like you to meet Secretary Hilliman.”
“Mr. Secretary,” replied Harvath as he shook hands with the man.
“I have heard a lot about you, Agent Harvath. I’m sorry that we should have to meet under these circumstances.”
“I’m the one that’s sorry, Mr. Secretary,” replied Harvath. “I have no idea what this is all about.”
“That’s why we’re here,” said the president, as he motioned the two men toward the long kitchen table. “We don’t have much time, so let’s get started.”
When the trio was seated at the table, the president said, “Scot, I need to know what you were doing at Frank Leighton’s house.”
Harvath shot an uneasy glance at the defense secretary.
“Don’t worry about Bob. He’s one of the few people in Washington I know I can trust. That’s why I appointed him,” said the president.