State Of The Union

“Very funny,” said Morrell. “Now we’ve got nine minutes and counting. Either you’re part of the solution, or I’m going to spread you across the beach and you can become part of the landscape.”

“He’s serious, isn’t he?” asked Leighton.

Harvath simply nodded his head.

“I’ve got some questions I want answered first. And like I said, we’ll start by establishingbona fides.”

“And like I said,” returned Morrell, “we don’t have time for that shit. We’ve already proven ourselves. We’re all on the same team here.”

“Well, without me on the team, you’re going to have a hard time finding what you’re looking for, so I suggest you cooperate, take a few minutes, and answer my questions.”

Morrell removed a small handheld device. “I’ve got the GPS coordinates for what I’m looking for, so I don’t really need your cooperation, do I?”

Leighton smiled. “Those coordinates might get you there, but that’s about all they’ll get you.”

“Why? What have you done?”

“Let’s just say what you’re looking for isvery well protected.”

Morrell’s eyes widened. “You booby-trapped it, didn’t you?”

Leighton remained smiling.

“Carlson,” called Morrell over his throat mike as he turned to face the trawler moored in the inlet. “I need you on the beach, ASAP.”

Carlson, who, along with Avigliano, was prepping theRebecca with a special surprise, thought he had a better idea and voiced his opinion.

“No, I’m not sending Harvath to do it,” barked Morrell in response to the Carlson’s voice in his earpiece. “Fuck his SEAL training. You’re the demo expert, so get your ass over here now.”

Leighton looked at the men on the beach. “Who’s Harvath?”

“What the fuck do you care?” growled Morrell.

“You’ve got a SEAL named Harvath. I want to know who he is.”

“You want, you want, you want. You know what? Fuck you.”

“Easy, Rick,” said Scot, stepping in to separate the two men. “I’m Harvath.”

The binoculars had fried Leighton’s eyes worse than he had thought. After squinting a moment, he said, “Of course you are. You look just like him. You sound like him too. I can’t believe I didn’t see it right off the bat.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” asked Morrell.

Leighton ignored him. “You’re Mike Harvath’s son.”

“You knew him?” asked Scot.

“Yeah, back in Vietnam when I was with Army Intelligence. Gary introduced us. We did a couple of joint ops together. He was a good man.”

“Yes he was.”

There was silence on the beach. Morrell raised his eyebrows and looked back and forth several times from Harvath to Leighton. “Have we established ourbona fides now?”

Though he didn’t care much for Morrell, the resemblance Harvath bore to his father was enough to satisfy Leighton that these men were who they said they were. “We’re good. Follow me.”

“Fabulous,” sneered Morrell, who activated his throat mike and addressing Carlson said, “Scratch that last order. You and Avigliano finish prepping the boat. We’re going to get the package. Be ready to move.”

Chapter 37

Harvath gave everything on theRebecca a final check before raising anchor and sailing the old trawler through the island’s narrow channel and out into the open sea.

The noxious blue smoke of the coughing diesels couldn’t mask the smell of the salt-laden air. The scent stirred up a flood of memories in Harvath. Despite the amount of time he had spent in and around the ocean as an adult, its smell always reminded him of time he had spent with his father as a young boy. As far back as Harvath could remember, the ocean had been part of their life. They lived near it, swam in it, fished in it, and sailed upon it. While some fathers and sons talked and bonded over baseball or other sporting pursuits, Scot’s father, who was not a very communicative man to begin with, was always able to talk about the ocean. He spent hours teaching his son about navigation by stars and currents, sextant and compass. The younger Harvath had incredible recall and could name any type of navy vessel in San Diego Harbor after only seeing it one time. The same went for battle ships, frigates, and the like which his father would point out in books. By the time he was twelve, Harvath had read all of the Horn-blower novels, courtesy of his father’s vast maritime library. In fact, Scot had long suspected that had it not been for the navy, his father would have very likely selected some other seafaring profession that would have kept him connected to the mistress he loved so dearly.

And there was no doubt in Scot’s mind that the sea was his father’s mistress. Many times in his young life, Scot felt that the sea mattered more to the man than his own family, but then, Scot himself had joined the Navy and began his own affair with it. Though Scot had very much enjoyed his career as a competitive skier, if he was honest with himself, he would have to admit that there had always been something missing.