Path Of The Assassin

Claudia had already slammed on her brakes and was reversing full speed back toward where she had pulled off from the convoy. “I don’t know. Both motorcycle drivers are down. I can’t work the radio and drive backward at the same time.”

Harvath was about to suggest they trade places when an enormous explosion tore through the warm morning air. The roiling thunder-ball of fire could be seen above the buildings to their right. The radio calls grew in intensity and added to the sounds of chaos throughout the neighborhood. Harvath could distinctly make out the whoomp whoomp whoomp of a heavy chopper coming in from above.

Harvath grabbed hold of the wheel from Claudia and turned it hard to the left as he pulled up on the VW’s emergency brake. The car spun 180 degrees, gashing the sides of three parked cars. Claudia was too startled by Harvath’s move to speak. At least now they were headed forward and could make better time. Scot could apologize later. “Step on it,” he said.

When they rounded the corner and came back down the street where they had left the convoy, it looked as if they had driven into a war zone. At least fifteen cars were burning out of control. Glass and flaming wreckage were scattered everywhere, and several shops and nearby buildings were also engulfed in flames.

Claudia drove in as close as she could, and then she and Harvath jumped out of the car and began running. It was immediately evident that this had been no accident. A very large explosive device had been detonated right when the motorcade passed. Harvath saw Claudia draw her weapon.

“How about me?” he asked.

Without breaking stride, Claudia reached underneath her blazer, withdrew a short Walther P38K and tossed it to Harvath. She pressed her walkie-talkie against her mouth and began shouting orders.

When she finally came up for air, she turned to Harvath and said, “One of the plainclothes men said he thinks the motorcycles were taken out by a sniper. When they went down, the convoy stopped and that’s when the explosion happened. I have the helicopter searching the area, and the city police are setting up roadblocks.”

The fire eventually stopped them from getting any closer, and Scot stood by while Claudia tried to coordinate the collective efforts of the police and military personnel via walkie-talkie. When emergency crews arrived on the scene, it took them over three hours to get the fires under control. It was another four hours before the techs had accumulated any evidence.

The explosive device had been a car bomb. Based on the make and model of the car, residents said they thought it had been parked on the street for at least two days, but nobody was certain, nor could they come up with a description of who had been driving it. The police had only one witness, but they immediately discounted her. She was an old gypsy who roamed the neighborhood poking through garbage cans with a stick, and was thought to be quite mad. She said she had seen the driver and, when asked to describe him, replied simply that it was none other than Satan. The Devil had looked at her with eyes that could change colors-from silver to black, like the moon turning into slate.

Standing nearby, Harvath could make out enough of the woman’s heavily accented German, along with her gestures, to pick up on what she was talking about. His suspicions had been right on the mark. The same person who had killed Philip Jamek wanted Gerhard Miner dead. The Lions had known something, and someone had wanted to make sure they were kept quiet-permanently.

Harvath was trying to connect the loose array of dots in his mind when Claudia came over and spoke to him. “There’s something up the street I’d like you to take a look at.”

“What?” he asked.

She didn’t answer. She began walking and Scot followed.

Harvath did not believe in coincidences. As a matter of fact, swearing off coincidences was how you stayed alive in his line of work. They just simply didn’t exist. That was what made the attack on the convoy all the more disturbing. His two best leads were now dead. What were the odds that Jamek and Miner had intentionally been killed before they could tell Harvath, or anyone else for that matter, what they knew about that fateful night the Spec Ops team was taken out?

Claudia led him into a narrow apartment building and up several flights of stairs. In typical European fashion, there was no elevator, and they had to hoof it all the way up.

On the top landing, she motioned toward an open apartment door, where inside a team of crime-scene technicians was busy at work. Claudia spoke briefly with the lead investigator and then translated for Scot.

“According to the landlady, the occupant of this flat has been out of town on vacation for the last week. The door shows signs of forced entry, but nothing appears to have been taken.”

“And?”

“And wait till you see what’s in the bedroom.”