The First Commandment

“Actually,” replied Parker. “It wasn’t so subtle. One of the larger dogs in the five-sided kennel called to let us know that all of the contracts could be immediately reinstated.”

“If you only agreed to sever all ties with me.”

“Pretty much.”

Harvath didn’t like having put his friends in this position. They’d already done more than enough for him. With the Pentagon offering them a way out, Harvath decided he’d make it easy on them. “Thank your boss for everything and tell him to consider all contact between us severed.”

“You can thank him yourself. He told them all to go to hell.”

That was very much like Finney. With all the betrayals Harvath had suffered lately, it was nice to know he still had some real, true friends, which was all the more reason not to let Finney devastate the business he’d worked so hard to build and so loved operating. “He’s a charmer. He’ll bring them around.”

“What about you?”

“I’m going to finish what these people started,” said Harvath.

“They can cancel our contracts, but they can’t stop us from helping you.”

“Yes, they can. The contracts are only the tip of the iceberg. The pressure only gets more intense as your heads get pushed beneath the water. You guys don’t want that. You’ve already helped me a ton and I’m grateful for it.”

Parker didn’t like being cut out of the loop any more than Harvath. “So we won’t actively do anything else unless you ask us. The babysitters will remain in place, though, and that’s not an item open for discussion.”

Harvath smiled. “I appreciate that.” It was good to know that Tracy and his mother would continue to be looked after.

“If you change your mind about additional help,” continued Parker, “you’ve got my number. In the meantime, I’ve got a couple of housekeeping items for you. They’re not much, but they should help sharpen your focus a bit. I’ll drop them off shortly.”

“Thanks,” replied Harvath, who knew that Parker was referring to the internet-based electronic dead drop they had developed in case they needed to communicate while Harvath was away from Elk Mountain. Considering recent developments, he was glad they’d established it.

“Anything else we can do?” asked Parker.

“There is one thing,” replied Harvath.

“Name it.”

“I need you guys to help me arrange a tee time.”

Chapter 74

BETHESDA, MARYLAND

The Congressional Country Club was one of the most exclusive country clubs in the nation. Opened in 1924, its Blue and Gold courses had been later redesigned by Rees Jones, with the Blue course repeatedly named one of the country’s hundred best.

The course was a challenging tableau of rolling green hills and tall trees. It embodied the best characteristics of the world’s finest courses and was the only thing demanding enough to take James Vaile’s mind off the crap that went along with his job as director of the Central Intelligence Agency.

He had a standing Sunday tee time, which he kept even more religiously than Sunday services at Holy Trinity in Georgetown. It was like therapy, and he truly believed it was one of the few things that kept him both sane and civilized in an undoubtedly insane and uncivilized world.

The Congressional Country Club was the playground of Washington ’s elected aristocracy, and Vaile found it invigorating to be treading the same links that William Howard Taft, Woodrow Wilson, Warren G. Harding, Calvin Coolidge, Herbert Hoover, and Dwight D. Eisenhower had.

The eighteenth hole of the Blue course was normally Vaile’s favorite. The view from the tee alone was incredible, as it looked toward the rear of one of the most majestic and imposing clubhouses in the world.

The drive itself took all the concentration Vaile could muster. From the elevated box, it was 190 yards over water. If you were lucky, your ball landed on the peninsulalike green and rolled to the edge of the cup, or better yet straight in.

Today, lady luck was not smiling on the DCI. Still upset over the ass-chewing he’d received from the president and having serious doubts about whether his people would be able to recapture Harvath, Vaile airmailed his first shot well over the green. He still couldn’t believe that Rutledge thought he might have had a hand in the deaths of the Maryland ME and his investigator girlfriend. Though the accident was certainly convenient, neither Vaile nor any of his agents had anything to do with it. The idiot had just blown through a red light.

Even so, the president wanted the reporter from the Baltimore Sun taken care of. How the hell Vaile was supposed to do that was anybody’s guess, especially as Rutledge had made it crystal clear that no harm was to come to the man.