Path Of The Assassin

“And,” added Morrell, “have we been able to stave off whatever it is by foiling this hijacking?”

Harvath pondered a few moments before responding. “I’ll tell you this right now. I have no idea what this guy is up to, but from what I’ve seen so far, if he wants the money bad enough, he’ll find another way to get it. And I think he wants it bad enough. If anything, the only thing we’ve done is slowed him down.”

“Well, that’s better than nothing,” said Ellis as he crossed the room and unlocked the door, indicating that their meeting was drawing to a close. “Now we need to figure out what his next move is going to be and make sure we’re one step ahead of him.”

“Something tells me,” responded Harvath as Morrell followed Tom Ellis out the door, “that we’ll hear from Hashim Nidal before he hears from us.”

As if on cue, an enormous explosion rocked the opposite side of the hospital and sent a concussion wave racing down the hallway.

28

The violent force of the blast ripped through the open doorway of the conference room and sent all three men flying backward. Harvath was the first to recover. He couldn’t tell if Morrell and Ellis were okay, and frankly, there just wasn’t enough time. He had to get to Meg Cassidy. The explosion was no accident. Scot was sure of it.

Even before he had been informed of Hashim Nidal’s escape, something about Ellis’s news conference had made Harvath uneasy. Now he knew what it was. It was the piece of paper taped to the podium. Scot looked behind him, and miraculously there it was, still taped in place, though the podium had been flipped over. The sign told the world where the woman responsible for foiling the hijacking was being treated, Cairo’s Anglo-American Hospital. Instinct kicked in, and before Harvath knew it, he was already on his feet and out the conference room door.

The hallway was quickly filling with thick black smoke. Many of the fluorescent lights along the corridor ceiling had come loose and hung at angles resembling sinking ships, as they sputtered and shot red-hot sparks onto the bland linoleum floor. Overturned supply trolleys, IV trees, and crash carts littered the hall. The incessant blaring of the fire alarm and the spray from overhead sprinklers made the scene even more chaotic and more difficult to navigate. Staff members and patients alike held surgical masks and wet towels to their mouths to help them breathe as they began assisting each other toward the exits. It took a few moments before Harvath was finally able to locate Meg Cassidy’s room.

Remarkably, he found both Gordon Avigliano and the beefy CIA sentry, Jerry, unhurt inside. When Harvath entered the room, both of the men had their weapons drawn.

“Are you guys okay?” asked Harvath.

“We’re fine. What the hell was that?” asked Avigliano.

“It was a bomb of some sort. Probably a car bomb. How’s Ms. Cassidy?”

“I’m okay,” came the woman’s voice from the hospital bed.

“What about Morrell and Ellis?” asked the sentry.

“They were standing in the doorway of the conference room down the hall when the blast hit. To tell you the truth, I don’t know how they are. You need to go take a look. Gordy and I will look after Ms. Cassidy.”

“Will do,” said the sentry, who soaked a hand towel in water and then crouched low beneath the smoke as he ran from the room.

“I thought you two were standing guard outside,” said Harvath as he carefully removed Meg Cassidy’s IV from her arm.

“We were,” replied Avigliano. “Jerry had orders to physically check on Ms. Cassidy every half-hour. He had come in the room to see how she was doing and I was in the doorway when the explosion happened.”

“Gordo,” said Harvath as he threw the young CIA man the keys to their car, “I want you to bring the car around to the back of the hospital. There’s probably a service entrance of some sort. We’ll meet you there.”

“What about Morrell and Ellis?”

“There’s no time for them. That explosion was a little too coincidental and I don’t-”

“Believe in coincidences,” said Avigliano, finishing Harvath’s sentence for him. “Neither do I.”

“Good, then get going. We’ll meet you in back.”

Avigliano didn’t bother to look for a towel to cover his face. He knew time was of the essence and sprinted from the room. Meg already had her legs swung over the side of the hospital bed.

“Are you going to be okay?” said Scot.

“Do you think that explosion was somehow meant for me?” she asked.

“Now is not the time to find out. We need to get you out of here to someplace safe. Do you think you can make it?”

“I think so. Scot, are we in danger?”

“I don’t know, Meg,” he said as he slung his left arm around her waist and helped her up. “Let’s just focus on getting out of here, okay?” She was a little unsteady on her feet and leaned heavily against his chest. He helped her to the sink, where he soaked a small hand towel for each of them before they left the room.