State Of The Union

Harvath heard the van’s door slide open and then boots hitting the ground as, one by one, a group of eight men in plainclothes rounded the van and lined up in front of him. Herman informed his friend that he had used his contacts to round up an off-duty Berlin SWAT unit specializing in hostage situations and counterterrorism operations. It was known as theMobiles Einsatzkommando, or MEK for short.

“Funny, there doesn’t seem to be much of a family resemblance between you and your cousins,” said Harvath.

“Of course there is,” replied Herman who, with a smile, opened his jacket to reveal the butts of two large semi automatic pistols. “You just have to look closer.”

In unison, the men then all drew back their winter coats as well to reveal a startling array of weaponry. Harvath had always thought that the Secret Service was good at hiding their gear, but these MEK guys were in a class all by themselves. He saw everything from Heckler amp; Koch MP5s and MP7s to G36-Cs, modified tactical shotguns, and even street sweepers. One thing was for certain; not only did these boys come to play, they came to win.

Scot shook hands with the men as Herman introduced them. Once the introductions were complete, the men climbed back into the van and Herman led Harvath to the trunk of his Mercedes where he popped the lid to reveal a mini-arsenal.

“I am assuming that as you are not here with the full knowledge and blessing of the German government, you didn’t come armed. Would that be a reasonable assumption?”

“Very,” replied Harvath.

“I figured as much. Take your pick,” said Herman with a wide sweep of his hand. “We can’t have you running around the streets of Berlin naked.”

“You’re all heart, Herman,” said Harvath as he removed a.45-caliber H amp;K USP Tactical pistol from the trunk and pulled back the slide. “Does this model come with any upgrades?”

“Nothing but the best,” answered Herman as he opened a black plastic Storm case and stood back so Harvath could choose. Scot had brought his filtered SureFire flashlight with him from home, along with his Benchmade Auto AXIS folding knife, and so bypassed Herman’s selection of tactical lights, choosing instead a LaserLyte laser sighting system which could be mounted on the rail system beneath the USP’s threaded barrel. He selected a silencer; grabbed a handful of empty clips, a box of ammunition, a brand new BlackHawk Industries tactical holster, and a couple of flashbang grenades; and stuffed the whole lot into his pockets.

As he began walking back around the car, Herman said, “I’ve got body armor too.”

“I don’t plan on getting shot,” answered Harvath.

“No one ever does. I didn’t, and now everywhere I go, I’m followed by one leg that just can’t keep up with the rest of me.”

Scot knew his friend was right and returned to the trunk where Herman handed him a bulletproof vest from an American company called First Choice, the best body armor manufacturers in the world. The vest was made of an ultra-high molecular weight polyethylene fiber material known as Spectra. It was considered to be far superior to Kevlar because it was much lighter and with its nicely tapered edges, was much more comfortable to wear. When properly fitted, Spectra was virtually invisible under clothing. Harvath had had a lot of experience with First Choice, as it was what both the Secret Service and the president always wore.

He fastened the Velcro straps firmly around his body, and then put his three-quarter-length black leather jacket back on.

Herman took the taxi light off the top of his Mercedes and after securing everything in his trunk, pulled out of the garage with the bakery van trailing four car lengths behind.

Even though Harvath had left DC at six in the morning, with the time difference, he hadn’t arrived in Berlin until just before seven p.m. local time. The weather was very much the same as in DC-overcast and cold. The temperature gauge on Herman’s dash read minus nine degrees Celsius. Harvath did the math and even though he had begun his SEAL career with their cold weather detachment known as the Polar SEALs, the thought of sixteen degrees Fahrenheit still made him shiver. He found the button for his seat warmer and set it on high.

Herman laughed, “I don’t like the weather here either, that’s why I live in the south. The winters in Berlin are terrible. Too damp. It’s less than two hundred kilometers to the Baltic. You’re lucky there was no fog. Your flight could have been delayed indefinitely. That’s the problem with Berlin. You never know what the weather is going to do.”