Path Of The Assassin

“No we won’t. If we stay calm, it just makes it easier for them. Remember nine-eleven? I don’t care how brutal these people are. We have to do something, or we’re all going to die.”

Meg was gripped by fear and had no idea if her seatmate was right. There was no telling if the hijackers were suicidal, or had an agenda. She prayed to God that they did have an agenda because that seemed the only way that they would make it out of this mess alive. Not only was the CEO of United Airlines a passenger on the flight, but so was the mayor of Chicago. Certainly whatever the hijackers wanted, they would get.

At the moment she completed that thought, Meg looked up to see one of the masked hijackers staring at her. His eyes seemed to bore right through her. At first she thought he had noticed her talking and was going to make an example of her. Then she noticed something else in his eyes, something she had seen only once before in her life and hoped never to see again. Getting out of this situation alive might not be as easy as she had thought.

17

Scot Harvath had a lot of enviable talents, but the ability to kill time was not one of them. Patience in battle, he could handle; patience getting to battle was another thing entirely. This morning he had awakened, early and gone for a run. When he returned to his apartment he scrambled some eggs for breakfast and then set about some of the “to do” list of chores he had been putting off.

While organizing his desk, he came across a photo of Sam Harper, his mentor at the Secret Service, who had been killed during the president’s kidnapping that winter. There were also photos of Agents Maxwell, Ahern, and Houchins-all killed along with Harper trying to protect the president and his daughter. Not a day went by that Harvath didn’t remember the promise he had made to avenge the deaths of each and every American who had lost their lives protecting or trying to recover the president. Seeing the photos only reminded him more acutely of his promise.

During his extended leave of absence, tracking down the men responsible for those killings, something inside Scot had changed. He kept telling himself that soon it would all be over. He would go back to his new job at the White House, and things would eventually settle down and return to normal. He knew, though, that he was lying to himself. He couldn’t go back to that life. In fact, he was amazed that he had stayed in it as long as he had. Claudia had been the final straw. If it had worked out between them and she had wanted to settle down in D.C., maybe he would have felt differently. Maybe he could have ignored what had been chewing at the edge of his conscience for so long. He knew he was an excellent Secret Service agent, but he also knew that his talents were better suited to a different arena. His mind was made up. Actually, it had been made up for some time, but now he could finally see the decision for what it was. He was avoiding the White House, and the president, because he knew that after he completed this last assignment, it would be time for him to move on. He had no idea where; he just knew he couldn’t go back to doing what he had been doing for the Secret Service.

Old habits died hard, and Scot found himself trying to relax his mind and pass the time the way he and his SEAL teammates had in their mission ready room while they waited to be deployed. Though it seemed like a lifetime ago, in reality it had only been a few years, and Scot found the old routine comforting. From the footlocker in his closet, he removed a stack of videocassettes with his name handwritten across each sleeve. He had watched Cool Hand Luke and was halfway through The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly when his pager went off.

He grabbed the phone and dialed the number from the pager’s display.

Morrell answered on the first ring, “Name?”

“Harvath.”

“It looks like Hashim Nidal has come up for air.”

“Where?”

“Cairo.”

“What’s the scenario?”

“Hijacking. Lots of passengers.”

“When do we move?”

“In forty-five minutes out of Dulles. The rest of the team is already here.”

“Thanks for the short notice. I’ll be lucky if I can grab my toothbrush and still get there on time.”

“Don’t grab anything. Not even your passport. Everything will be provided en route. United Airlines is flying us in on identical equipment so we can know it inside out by the time we touch down. Come around through ‘general aviation.’ Tell them you’re with the Wright brothers party, and an agent will bring you to the maintenance hangar where the plane is.”

The Wright brothers? Classic, thought Harvath. “Fine. I am on my way, but, Ricky?”

“What?” snapped Morrell, obviously eager to get off the phone.

“Don’t even think about leaving without me.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it.”

Scot was ready to say, “Bullshit,” but Morrell hung up before he could.