State Of The Union

As Harvath was reaching for his margarita, his cell phone rang again. On the other end was Alan Driehaus, the director of homeland security. “Where the hell are you?” he demanded.

“ Coronado,” answered Harvath.

“Where’s Lawlor?”

“I’ve got no idea. He was supposed to be out here.”

“Has he tried to contact you at all?” asked Driehaus.

“No and that’s what I’m worried about,” responded Harvath.

There was a pause as the homeland security director cupped his hand over the mouthpiece of his telephone. Harvath could make out several voices in the background as Driehaus came back on the line and said, “I want you on the next plane back to DC.”

“What for?”

“You’ll be briefed when you get here. This is an urgent matter of national security, so don’t waste any time getting back. And if Lawlor does make contact with you, I want you to find out where he is and let us know right away. Is that clear?”

“ Crystal,” said Harvath.

“Good,” replied Driehaus, who then terminated the connection.

Harvath punched theend button on his cell phone, set it onto the bar and reached for his wallet.

“What is going on?” asked Meg.

Scot finished downing his margarita and said to her, “I need to call my mother and let her know that we won’t be making the memorial service.”

Chapter 4

BERLIN, GERMANY

Gary Lawlor had taken his time getting to the apartment. Though more than twenty years had passed, he had not forgotten his tradecraft. After arriving at the airport in Frankfurt, he had taken a short commuter flight to Nürnberg and then a train to the outskirts of Berlin. Two taxis and a short subway ride later, he was back in the heart of a city that he had once known all too well. He dropped his suitcase off at an intermediate location and wandered the streets for a bit, getting his bearings before making his way over to check out the safe house.

The apartment had been selected because of its proximity to the Tiergarten, not far from the heart of what was then the commercial district of West Berlin. Lawlor noted that the reunification had only added to the area’s hustle and bustle. The Bahnhof Zoo, the bombed-out Kaiser-Wilhelm-Gedächtniskirche, and the towering Europa Center all drew large crowds, which made it easy to blend in. With his neutral-colored overcoat and dull gray suit, Gary Lawlor looked like any other German or Western European businessman making his way to an important luncheon meeting.

He took a circuitous route southward from the Nollendorfplatz, doubling back three times to make sure he wasn’t followed. With the situation as it was, it was utterly impossible to betoo careful.

The nondescript Schöneberg district was filled with smoky cafés and a wide variety of ethnic restaurants. Though some of the businesses had turned over in the last two decades, most of the neighborhood was still exactly the same as he remembered. As Lawlor reached the top of the Goltzstrasse, where the apartment was located, he was ready to breathe a sigh of relief when something caught his eye. Three doors before the apartment, two men were sitting in a black BMW. One was smoking a cigarette while the other appeared to be reading the paper. Ordinarily, this might not seem like odd behavior, except that the car was parked right in front of a half empty café. Europe was all about café society and for these two men to be waiting for whatever it was they were waiting for in their car, instead of inside the café, gave Lawlor more than enough reason to pause. But, he couldn’t pause, not now. It would create too much suspicion. In the world Lawlor had been thrust back into, there had to be two reasons for every move you made, every word you said and every thing you did-the real reason and the completely plausible lie.

There were no stores or businesses to casually pop into where Lawlor was now walking. He had no choice but to keep moving and to hope that these men were just waiting for a friend.

It had been a long time since Lawlor had done actual fieldwork. His heart was pumping faster than it should have been and he fought to get it under control. All of his senses were on fire as adrenaline slammed through his bloodstream with each rapid thump of his heart. This was more than just an overactive imagination or the jitters. No, Lawlor knew the feeling all too well, just as he knew Berlin all too well. It was a feeling he had had many a night walking down the deadly backstreets on the other side of the wall. Something wasn’t right.