The First Commandment

Harvath didn’t know what to think, or what to feel, for that matter. He’d figured that the president had been motivated to do the right thing for the country and that was certainly what he’d done in this horrible scenario, but it still didn’t explain why he’d sidelined him.

He didn’t know if Rick Morrell had the answers he was seeking or not, but he knew each piece of information he got would bring him one step closer to solving the puzzle. Harvath knew they didn’t have much time left, so he decided to hold his questions and let Morrell finish.

Morrell was obviously concerned with the time as well. He glanced at his watch for the third time and then said, “The secretary of defense suggested to the president that a highly classified tracking program be used to trace the five men once they were released from Guantanamo.”

“Via a radioactive isotope,” said Harvath, sensing where this was going. “I’m familiar with it.”

“The U. S. didn’t know who it was negotiating with. And it knew even less about the relationship among the men it was about to free. If they could track the men, it was believed they could locate the organization responsible for the bus hijacking and either bring them to justice or at the very least exact some sort of revenge.

“The only problem was that somehow the other side knew about the blood-spiking program and fully transfused the five detainees in flight. They then used the extracted blood to lead the CIA on a fucked-up chase. The blood wound up in several containers that were tossed in multiple dumpsters and the trunks of several cars.

“The DOD blamed the CIA for losing the men, and the CIA blamed the DOD for hanging their hat on a program that wasn’t as ultra-top-secret as they’d thought.”

“So the U. S. lost them. I know that much,” said Harvath.

“What you don’t know is that the terrorists placed a few conditions on the deal they struck with the president.”

“Such as what?”

“Such as the men we released were never to be hunted, harmed, or reincarcerated,” replied Morrell. “As an insurance policy, the terrorists provided surveillance photos of over a hundred school buses from across the country. The message was clear. If we welshed, they’d be back, and things would be a lot worse the next time. We’d be forced to suffer a gruesome attack against our children and this time there’d be no negotiating.”

“That’s why the president wanted me sidelined.”

Morrell put his hand on his friend’s shoulder. “He didn’t want you sidelined, he had no choice. You’ve put him in a very difficult position.”

“So what? He wouldn’t even fill me in on who he supposedly has hunting this guy down.”

“Would it have made a difference? Would the president’s personnel decisions have convinced you to sit by while this nut job was targeting your friends and family?”

Harvath didn’t know how to answer that question. Finally he said, “Probably not.”

“Scot, the president knows you were in Mexico when Palmera was killed.”

“How would he know that?”

“The CIA has CCTV footage of you at the airport in Querétaro. They traced the plane you used. They also know who the plane belongs to. That’s how we figured out you were on your way back from Amman.”

Harvath’s heart sank. If he was going down, he certainly didn’t want to drag people along with him, especially not decent, patriotic Americans like Tim Finney and Ron Parker. “The guys at Elk Mountain didn’t know anything about this.”

“You and I both know that’s bullshit,” replied Morrell. “They’re on the CCTV footage with you. The only thing working in your favor is that witnesses claim Palmera ran into the street and was hit by the cab. As far as they’re concerned, it was most likely a cartel thing. Whether the terrorists who helped arrange his release from Gitmo believe that is another story.”

“Where’s that leave us, then?”

“I need to know what happened in Amman. Why were you there? Who did you meet with?”

Harvath shook his head, no.

“Scot, listen to me. The Palmera thing can be made to look like he got mixed up with some bad people from his old life. It’s only one death, and while suspicious, it’s nothing definitive. Two deaths and we’re in big trouble and the shit is most definitely going to hit the fan.

“We have no idea how many school buses these people could potentially target. The only hope we have of avoiding more attacks is to manage this situation from out front. We can’t do that unless you give us what we need. What happened in Amman?”

“If the president had been up front about all of this from the start I could have-”

“Scot, what happened?”

“Abdel Salam Najib is dead. His handler too.”

“Shit,” cursed Morrell.

“What did you expect? What did anybody expect? The lives of the people I care about are at stake here. I couldn’t just sit back and do nothing.”

Rick Morrell stood up and headed for the door.

“Wait a second!” said Harvath. “That’s it? I thought you were going to help me.”

“I did help you,” said Morrell as he kept walking. “The president said dead or alive. You’re alive.”