The Apostle

As if they had rehearsed this a million times, both men reached into their jackets in unison, ostensibly to remove their credentials.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” said Harvath. “Let’s take it easy. Nobody needs to be in a hurry.”

Benson motioned for Wagner to relax, and, using his left hand, he pulled back the left side of his suit jacket to show Harvath what he was doing. Slowly he slid his thumb and forefinger into his inside pocket and retrieved his credentials. He then opened his ID wallet and extended his arm toward Harvath. “We’re from the Portland office.”

“What were you doing in my truck?”

“It was unlocked,” interjected Wagner.

Harvath ignored him and kept his eyes on Benson.

“We were looking to see if you’d left a map or some indication of which direction you were ru

“Why?”

“We needed to speak with you as soon as possible. Your girlfriend…” said Benson, his voice trailing off as he replaced his credentials and looked down at a notepad on his armrest for the name. “Tracy. She told us we could probably find you out here. She said this was where you normally run.”

“She didn’t mention that dog, though, did she?” added Wagner angrily. “That fucking thing almost bit me. It’s like a goddamn polar bear. I’m lucky I got back into the car in one piece.”

Harvath patted Bullet on the head and smiled. Benson seemed okay, but he didn’t care much for this other guy, Wagner. “Good dog,” he said to Bullet, and then, turning back to Benson, asked, “What do you want?”

“The president needs to see you,” the man replied.

“Which one?”

“The new one. President Alden.”

The name still took some getting used to for Harvath. “Alden?” he repeated. “Why does he want to see me?”

Benson shook his head. “No idea. We were told to find you and transport you to Greenville Municipal. There’s an aircraft waiting there to take you to him.”

Wagner looked out his window at Bullet, who began growling at him again.

“I don’t think so,” replied Harvath as he covertly tucked his weapon into his waistband, covered it with his shirt, and prepared to walk away.

“Mr. Harvath,” insisted Benson, “we were told that whatever the president wants to discuss with you, it’s very important and very time-sensitive. That’s why we came all the way out here to find you.”

Harvath had no idea what Alden could possibly want with him, but based on what he had seen of the man’s judgment, it wasn’t anything Harvath wanted to be involved with. If the new president was interested in him, he should have thought of that before he fired him and Harvath had found a new job. “Please tell the president that I respectfully declined. I don’t work for Washington anymore.”

“In that case,” said Benson as he slowly reached for the glove compartment and opened it, “we were asked to give you this.”

The agent withdrew a sat phone and handed it to his partner. Wagner, still wary of the dog, balanced it on the partly open window until Harvath took it.

“What’s this?” he asked.

“A snowcone maker,” said Wagner as he rolled his window back up. “You’d think a smart guy like William Howard Taft could figure that out.”

Harvath took the window rolling up as a sign that their meeting was over and backed Bullet away from the Tahoe just as Benson put it into reverse.

Moments later the government SUV U-turned onto the deserted logging road and disappeared.

CHAPTER 7

The interior of the Super Puma EC225 helicopter was as elegant as any private jet Harvath had ever flown on. White hand-stitched leather seating was complemented by black Hermès pillows and polished chrome tables.

While it was a little cold for Harvath’s taste, he had to give the helicopter’s owner, whoever he was, points for style. When he had been told that transportation was standing by, this was not at all what he had envisioned. President Alden had surprised him. Whether that was a good thing had yet to be seen. Harvath was reserving judgment until he had actually met the man face-to-face.

He had returned home with the satellite phone and set it upon the kitchen table while he went upstairs to take a shower and change. When he came down, Tracy was waiting for him with two mugs of coffee. They had gone back and forth about what to do, with Tracy playing devil’s advocate throughout. She knew that as much as Harvath was fully prepared to take on his new job, he still missed his old one. He was a patriot, and serving his country was his ultimate calling.

In the end, Harvath agreed that it couldn’t hurt to talk. Blowing the new president off, even if he had eliminated the project Harvath had worked on, was probably not the best of ideas-especially with what he did for a living. At some point, he could very well need the president’s help. The least he could do was to hear the man out.

Harvath went outside and activated the sole number that had been programmed into the satellite phone. On the second ring, the president himself answered.

Alden was polite, but brief. He was in Maine and wanted to see Harvath in person, hence the helicopter he had standing by. He was not at liberty to explain things over the phone and would fill Harvath in when they met. Though Harvath had not voted for Alden and questioned many of his policies, he still respected the office and agreed to go meet him. Within twenty minutes, Harvath was airborne, and within forty more he had arrived at Seal Harbor.

Seal Harbor was a very affluent New England enclave located on the southern end of Maine’s Mount Desert Island. While the better-known town of Bar Harbor had been attracting celebrities, tourists, and politicians for generations, Seal Harbor was where the truly rich and powerful could enjoy the island’s thick forests, gently sloping mountains, and jagged coastline without being bothered.

One such resident was a lifestyle and home-decorating maven with an immensely popular television series. With her primary residence in Manhattan and other homes in Co

The Super Puma’s tires touched down on an impeccably manicured esplanade of grass. When the air-stairs were lowered, Harvath exited the helicopter and was met by a pair of Secret Service agents, who led him to the main house.

They walked up a paved path and entered the kitchen via a breezeway. With its retro appliances and vintage furnishings, the room gave one the feeling of having stepped back in time.

After Harvath was screened for weapons, he was taken down a paneled hallway to a dramatic wooden staircase. Following its red and gold ru

Standing guard there was a lone, female Secret Service agent. Having been recruited to the former president’s protective detail before being tasked to the Apex Project, Harvath still maintained a lot of contacts in the Service. He was aware of how Robert Alden had cleaned house and forced “improvements” there as well.

His intent had been to demonstrate more diversity in the agents who surrounded him. It was a noble endeavor, but like many other well-intentioned efforts Alden had undertaken, he had rushed through it like a bull in a china shop, more concerned with appearances than results.