The First Commandment

From there, Roussard calmly let himself in through the unlocked gate and headed toward the locker room. He was a chameleon, and 99 percent of his disguise came from his attitude. He had nailed the mountain casual, resort-town look perfectly. The ubiquitous iPod, T-shirt, jeans, and Keens-they all came together with his air of purpose in such a way that anyone who looked at him assumed that he either was a skier or worked for the park. In short, no one bothered Philippe Roussard because he looked like he belonged there.

In the locker room, Roussard quickly and carefully placed the rest of the devices. When he was done, he let himself out an unalarmed emergency exit and headed for the parking lot.

He placed the buds of the iPod into his ears, donned his silver helmet, and left the glass bottle with his calling card note where investigators should find it.

Firing up the 2005 Yamaha Yzf R6 sportbike he had stolen across the border in Wyoming, Roussard pulled out of the parking lot and slowly wound his way down the mountain.

Nearing the bottom, he pulled over and waited.

When the first of his explosions detonated, Roussard scrolled through his iPod, selected the music he wanted, revved his engine, and headed for the highway.

Chapter 43

SOMEWHERE OVER THE SOUTHWEST

Getting out of Mexico had been Harvath’s greatest concern. But once they were safely away, he traded one concern for another. After Finney’s jet had reached its cruising altitude and passed into U. S. airspace, a phone call came through.

Harvath and Parker listened as Finney chatted with Tom Morgan. He ended the call by telling his intel chief to send everything the Sargasso people had.

Finney then looked over at Harvath and said, “Scot, I’ve got some bad news.”

Harvath’s heart seized in his chest. Was it his mother? Tracy? He didn’t need to ask as Finney picked up a remote, activated the flat-panel monitor at the rear of the cabin, and tuned to one of the cable news programs.

Helicopter footage showed a raging fire with countless emergency vehicles gathered around one of the main buildings of the Utah Olympic Park that Harvath knew all too well. “What’s going on?” he asked.

“Someone placed several pipe bombs packed with ball bearings throughout the U. S. Freestyle Ski Team training area. At least two went off in the locker room while the team was there.”

“Jesus,” replied Parker. “Do they have casualty estimates yet?”

“Morgan’s emailing them now,” said Finney. “But it’s not good. So far they haven’t found any survivors.”

Harvath turned away from the television. He couldn’t watch any more. “What about the coaches?” he asked.

“Morgan’s sending everything he has,” responded Finney as he powered up his laptop and avoided Harvath’s gaze.

Harvath reached out and pulled the laptop away from Finney. “There’s a reason Morgan contacted you with this. What about the coaches?”

“You think this is connected?” asked Parker.

Harvath kept his eyes glued to Finney as he said, “The seventh plague of Egypt was hail mixed with fire.”

Parker was at a loss for what to say.

“Two of the coaches were my teammates,” said Harvath. “They were like family to me. I don’t want to wait for Morgan’s email. I want you to tell me what he said.”

Finney held Harvath’s gaze and replied, “Brian Peterson and Kelly Cook were pronounced dead at the scene along with nine other U. S. Ski Team members.”

Harvath felt as if he had been hit in the chest with a lead pipe. Part of him wanted to scream out Why? But he knew why. It was about him.

The more pressing question was, when was it going to stop? That, too, had an equally simple answer-when he put a bullet between the eyes of whoever was responsible for all of this.

He regretted losing Palmera. The idiot had run right out into the street and had gotten himself killed.

Not that it made much difference. They could have been there all night. If and when Palmera had cracked, his information wouldn’t have been worth anything, because he obviously wasn’t the man they were after. Someone else on that list was, and Harvath was determined to track him down before he could strike again. But time was obviously running out.

Chapter 44

SARGASSO INTELLIGENCE PROGRAM

ELK MOUNTAIN RESORT

MONTROSE, COLORADO

Tom Morgan finished his presentation by playing the CCTV footage from the San Diego Marriott and the Utah Olympic Sports Park in a split screen on a monitor at the front of the Sargasso conference room. “Though we don’t have a shot of his face, the cops found a note with the same message as the other two crime scenes-That which has been taken in blood, can only be answered in blood. Everything here tells me we’re dealing with the same guy.”

Harvath agreed. “Let’s get that footage to both hospitals. Even though we don’t have his face, I’d feel better about my mother and Tracy knowing their security people were keeping an eye peeled for this guy.”