The First Commandment

“It’s not going to be that easy,” said Lawlor.

“Why not? The whole thing is a DOD program. They keep records like anyone else. Contact the Def Sec’s office and let him know we need access.”

“I already tried.”

“And?” Harvath asked impatiently.

“No go.”

“No go? You’ve got to be kidding me.”

Lawlor shook his head. “Unfortunately, I’m not kidding.”

“Then we’ll go to the president. Even the defense secretary answers to someone. If President Rutledge tells him to open his files, believe me, he’ll open his files,” said Harvath.

“I already spoke with President Rutledge. It’s a no go.”

Harvath couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “I want to talk to the president myself.”

“He knew you’d say that,” said Lawlor. “And he feels he owes it to you. There’s a car waiting for us downstairs.”

Chapter 6

THE WHITE HOUSE

When Harvath and Lawlor were shown into the Oval Office, President Rutledge stood up and came around his desk to greet them.

He shook Gary ’s hand and then as he shook hands with Harvath inquired, “How’s she doing?”

“Still no change, sir,” replied Harvath as the president ushered him and Lawlor to one of the sofas perpendicular to the Oval Office fireplace.

As they took their seats, Rutledge got right to the point. “Scot, I know I speak for all Americans when I say that I am very sorry for what happened to Tracy. This nation owes your entire team a great debt for what you did in New York.”

Harvath had never been comfortable with praise, especially when it came from the president, but he was even less comfortable now. The operation in New York City had essentially been a failure. So many people had died, including one of his best friends. Though Harvath and his team had managed to take down most of the terrorists involved with the plot, they had been playing catch-up the entire way. It was not something he was at all proud of.

He acknowledged the president’s remarks with a quiet “thank you” and listened as the man continued.

“Scot, you have been one of this nation’s greatest assets in the war on terror. I don’t want you for a moment to doubt how much your service has been appreciated. I know too well that yours can often be a thankless job and that is why I am thanking you once again.”

Harvath had a bad feeling about where this was going. He could sense the other shoe was about to drop. He didn’t have to wait long.

Jack Rutledge looked him right in the eye and stated, “We’ve known each other for several years and I’ve always been straight with you.”

Harvath nodded. “Yes, you have, sir.”

“Often against the advice of my advisors, I have filled you in on the big picture because I wanted you to understand your role in it and why you were being asked to do certain things.

“What’s more, I filled you in because I knew I could trust you. Now, I am asking you to trust me.”

The president paused as he tried to get a read on Harvath. The counterterrorism operative’s face was inscrutable, forcing Rutledge to ask, “Can you do that? Can you trust me?”

Harvath knew the correct answer was, Of course, I can trust you, Mr. President, but those were not the words that came out of his mouth. Instead, he replied, “Trust you regarding what, sir?”

It was not the answer the president wanted to hear, but it didn’t come as a surprise. There was a reason Scot Harvath was so good at what he did. He wasn’t a pushover, not by a long shot.

“I’m going to ask you to do something. I know you’re not going to like it, but this is where I need you to stay with me.”

Harvath’s alarm bells began ringing. He nodded slowly, encouraging the president to continue.

“I want you to let us track down the gunman who shot Tracy.”

The president wasn’t offering him a yes or no proposition. Even so, Harvath had no intention of being sidelined. Being careful of his word choice and his tone, he stated, “I’m sorry, Mr. President, I don’t understand.”

Rutledge didn’t mince words. “Yes, you do. I’m asking you to sit this one out.”

Too often, the fine art of diplomacy eluded Harvath. Looking the president right in the eyes he said, “Why?”

As president of the United States, Jack Rutledge didn’t have to explain himself to anyone, much less Scot Harvath. He didn’t even have to have this meeting with him, but as he’d stated, the president felt the nation owed Harvath a great debt-not only for what he’d done in New York and then afterward in Gibraltar, but on many other occasions.

What’s more, Harvath had once saved the president’s life, as well as his daughter’s. He deserved a better explanation and Rutledge knew it. The president just couldn’t give him one. “There are forces at play here I am not at liberty to discuss, even with you,” he said.

“I can appreciate that, Mr. President, but this isn’t a random act of terrorism. Whoever did this did it because it’s personal. The blood above my door, the shell casing, the note-somebody is calling me out.”

“And I’ve assembled a team to take care of it.”