The First Commandment

“Of course if your presence here becomes known, His Majesty will disavow any knowledge of you or your operation. If the Syrians, or anyone else for that matter, discovered that we were allowing you to stalk an operative of theirs who was in our country undergoing cancer treatment, it would be devastating for Jordan ’s image-not to mention the diplomatic fallout,” said the GID officer.

“Don’t bullshit me, Omar,” replied Harvath. “You know as well as I do that Al-Tal’s a threat to you too. A lot of the weapons he’s been helping the Syrians unload are going to groups like Al Qaeda who could very well use them here.”

“We are aware of that, but it doesn’t change the fact that our image is of paramount importance to us. Our credibility with our neighbors and allies would be significantly eroded if our involvement in your operation became known.”

“What involvement?” asked Harvath as he zipped up the duffel.

Faris smiled, removed a manila envelope from beneath his seat, and handed it to his friend. “Per your request, we have compiled a complete dossier.”

Harvath wasn’t surprised at how much was in there. The GID was usually very thorough. “Surveillance logs, photos, layout of the building-this is a pretty impressive dossier for less than twenty-four-hour notice.”

“Al-Tal has been on our radar screen for some time. When it was discovered he had entered the country under an assumed identity to begin his treatment, we began around-the-clock surveillance.”

“Any listening or video devices in the apartment?” asked Harvath.

“Of course,” replied Faris. “We were very concerned about the weapon sales. Any information we could have collected would have proven quite helpful.”

“But?”

“But the man has proven quite cautious. He speaks often on the telephone, but none of what we have picked up is of any direct use. We suspect someone else is running the operation for him while he seeks his medical treatment.”

“You said he doesn’t have much longer.”

“This is what his physicians have said. Weeks. A month tops.”

“And his family?” asked Harvath.

“It’s all in the dossier.”

“I don’t want any record of me being in that apartment. I want all of your listening and video devices removed.”

“I’m afraid we can’t do that,” said Faris.

“Why not?”

“When he first arrived, he and his family traveled to the hospital on an almost daily basis. Now he is resigned to his bed at home full-time. There is always someone with him. It would be impossible for any of my people to get in there and remove those devices.”

“Then I’ll remove them for you,” stated Harvath. “I’ll need a detailed schematic of where they’ve all been placed.”

Faris reached into his breast pocket. “I thought you might ask for that.”

“What about the surveillance teams?” asked Harvath as he slid the piece of paper into the dossier.

“They’ll be pulled off as soon as you enter the building.”

“Then it looks like we’re all done here.”

Faris handed Harvath the keys for the nondescript, gray Mitsubishi Lancer he’d organized and then shook his hand. “Be careful, Scot. Al-Tal may be dying, but it’s when an animal is sick and cornered that it is the most dangerous.”

Harvath climbed out of the car, and as he prepared to close the door, said, “Tell your men to get ready to drop their surveillance.”

Faris was slightly taken aback. “Don’t you want to study the dossier first?”

“I’ve seen all I need to see. The sooner I get in there and get control of Al-Tal, the sooner I can bait the hook and start chumming the waters for Najib.”

Faris watched as Harvath unlocked the Lancer, threw the bag in, and pulled away from the curb. Though he knew Harvath was a professional, he didn’t like what the American was headed into.

Chapter 52

When Al-Tal’s wife and twenty-year-old son returned from the mosque, Harvath was waiting for them. Wearing a thin, black ski mask, he slipped out of the stairwell into the dimly lit corridor and placed his silenced,.45 caliber Taurus 24/7 OSS pistol against the back of the son’s head.

When the mother opened her mouth to cry out, Harvath grabbed her by the throat. “If you make any sound,” he told her in Arabic, “I will kill you both.”

With the mother and son Flexicuffed and pieces of duct tape across their mouths, he relieved them of their house keys and let himself into the apartment. Before entering the building, Harvath had gone through the dossier, committing pertinent facts about Al-Tal’s residence and its occupants to memory.

He’d read enough about Al-Tal’s bodyguard to know that he was extremely dangerous. A former interrogator for the Syrian Secret Police, the man had routinely brutalized subjects by submitting them to horrific beatings and making them watch as he raped and sodomized their wives and children.