Blowback

“You need to tell me now. People in America have already begun to come down with it.”

“That’s ridiculous. This illness has not been sent to the U.S. Not yet, at least. You’re stalling, “He yelled. “Give me your answer. Do we have a deal or not?”

“Why don’t you ask Hamal about America? He’s the one with the export business. It seems things may have grown a little bit faster than you had anticipated.”

Jamming his pistol into Hamal’s ear, Kalachka demanded, “Is this true? Did you ship that poison to America?”

“Yes,” Hamal stammered, “but we shipped the water for the Sunni faithful too.”

“What do you mean, we?”

“Faruq. He coordinated it. He said the only chance we stood against the Americans was to attack them at home so we’d be guaranteed they could never move against us.”

“You fool, that was not what we had planned.”

“But Faruq said-”

“Faruq is an even bigger idiot than you are.”

Harvath had managed to creep several more inches to his right and almost had the perfect line of sight when Kalachka yelled, “That’s far enough. No more games.”

Harvath stood stock-still.

“Now I know why Faruq was so intent upon cleaning out the warehouse in Riyadh,” said Kalachka.

“But it was too late.”

“Maybe, but it’s not too late for these buildings here. Everything you need is under this roof-the illness, the antidote, everything.”

“Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t kill you both then and send Prince Abdullah a condolence card?”

Kalachka removed a remote detonator from his pocket and replied, “Because while Faruq might be a mediocre intelligence operative, he is a genius when it comes to explosives. He wired this building the same way he did the warehouse in Riyadh -but with three times as much C4. Either you let us go, or we’re all going to Paradise right now, together.”

Harvath looked at him and didn’t say a word.

“What will it be, Scot? We can end this and both walk away. Don’t be stupid. Think about it.”

“I think I’ll take my chances,” replied Harvath as he lowered his weapon two inches and pulled the trigger.

The rounds tore into Prince Hamal’s kneecaps and sent the prince crumpling onto the grate beneath his feet. In an instant Harvath had the weapon back up, and as he squeezed the trigger one more time, he said, “If you see him, tell Allah Scot Harvath says hello.”

NINETY-TWO

As Kalachka’s lifeless body fell forward over the railing, the remote detonator dropped from his hand and clattered onto the platform next to Prince Hamal, who was clutching his legs and writhing in pain. Death was surely better than what awaited him at the hands of his father. He knew the Crown Prince well enough to know that the only reason Harvath hadn’t killed him was that his father had wanted to do it himself.

Forcing his hands from his bloody kneecaps, Hamal reached for the detonator, only to have Harvath fire two rounds into the back of his left leg. Running up the staircase to the observation platform, Harvath yelled, “If you move even a millimeter more, the next one goes into your testicles.”

Hamal didn’t care. His life was over anyway. Stretching his hand out, he reached for the detonator, expecting to feel the fierce pain of the American’s bullets piercing his groin, but the shots never came. Instead, he felt a heavy weight land upon his back.

Grabbing Hamal’s wrist, Harvath slammed it repeatedly onto the metal grating until he let go of the detonator. Rolling the prince onto his back, Harvath grabbed him by the throat and said, “I promised your father I wouldn’t kill you, but other than that, the field is wide open. How do you plan on killing the Wahhabi leadership?”

Hamal forced a laugh and then spat in Harvath’s face.

Wiping his cheek on his shoulder, Harvath placed the barrel of the MP5 against Hamal’s left index finger and then asked his question again, “How will they die?”

Hamal spat again, and Harvath pulled the trigger, blowing the prince’s finger off.

As the man screamed, Harvath moved the gun to the index finger of his right hand and said, “I have more bullets than you have body parts, Hamal. We could be here all day, and believe me, I’ll make sure that I keep my word to your father and keep you alive, but you’re going to wish you were dead.”

Hamal spat at him again, but Harvath held back from firing. Instead, he said, “We know your men are posing as National Guardsmen. It’s only a matter of time before we catch them. Everyone at the palace is looking for them. The minute one of them gets anywhere near any of the leadership, it will be all over.”

Hamal, his teeth gritted in pain, managed to smile. “You have no idea what we have planned. We have no need to get near any of the leaders.”

“What are you talking about?” demanded Harvath. “Tell me, or I’ll blow another finger off right now.”

“It’s too late. It is out of anyone’s control.”