by Brad Thor
The Point was where the CIA’s hard-core paramilitary training took place. Personnel were schooled in explosives, paramilitary combat, and other clandestine and unconventional warfare techniques. While the “Farm” at Camp Peary was where CIA personnel earned their stripes and learned their tradecraft, the Point was where a chosen few received a Ph.D. in serious ass-kicking.
The personnel invited to the Point weren’t only limited to American CIA operatives. In the past fifteen years, the CIA had provided counterterrorism training to several American Special Operations groups, as well as foreign intelligence officers from more than fifty countries, including South Korea, Japan, France, Germany, Greece, and Israel.
As the Falcon 900 jet banked and came in over the water for its landing, Harvath watched Harvey Point’s runway magically materialize out of the dense cover of foliage. He knew it was only a trick of the landscape, but an uncomfortable feeling swept over him, nonetheless. Nothing was ever what it appeared to be with the CIA, and Harvath wasn’t looking forward to being a guest on their turf.
The plane touched down and taxied over to an aircraft parking revetment. When the copilot opened the Falcon’s door, the cabin immediately filled with the muggy, swampy air that Harvey Point was famous for. Harvath and Meg descended the metal stairway and found Rick Morrell on the tarmac waiting for them in front of a blacked-out Suburban.
“Thank you for coming, Ms. Cassidy,” he said. “I know you’ve been through a lot, and we want you to know that your country appreciates your cooperation. I hope your flight was comfortable.”
“Yes, thank you,” replied Meg.
“Well, if you’ll follow me. We’ll get you settled in.” Morrell took Meg’s bags and loaded them into the back of the Suburban. He didn’t offer to help Harvath, nor did he even acknowledge his presence.
“What? No kiss? Not even a, honey, I missed you? I’m going to start thinking you don’t care,” said Harvath.
“I don’t,” responded Morrell as he helped Meg into the Suburban and closed the door behind her. “You’ve stepped on a lot of toes wiseguy. There are more than a few people at the Point who don’t like you, so as long as you’re on my playing field, you’ll keep your mouth shut and watch your act.”
“If that’s your idea of a warm welcome, it’s no wonder this resort has yet to rate five stars.”
Morrell climbed into the driver’s seat and expected Harvath to hop into the passenger seat next to him. Instead, Scot got in back and sat next to Meg, effectively reducing Morrell to chauffeur status. Morrell wanted to tell Harvath off right then and there, but he had been warned to be on his best behavior around Meg Cassidy.
For a while, it had looked as if they were not going to be able to bring her in, but somehow, Harvath had managed to swing it. That made Morrell dislike the Secret Service agent even more. Meg Cassidy was integral to the operation, that much was true, but Harvath was barely palatable baggage and would be treated as such.
They drove past a lodge, a gym, and a conference center before pulling up in front of a low-rise barracks-style building.
“Not exactly the most glamorous accommodations in the world, but I’m sure you’ll find it very comfortable,” said Morrell as he hopped out of the SUV and went around to open the door for Meg. After retrieving her bag, he led them up a short flight of stairs and into the main door of the building. “Meals are served at the lodge, but there’s also a fully stocked kitchen at the end of the hall here. There’s a lounge with a big-screen TV, but you also have a television in your room.
“Okay, here we are. Ms. Cassidy, this is your room, number eleven, and you’re over there,” he said to Harvath as he jerked his head at the door across the hall.
“Would you be so kind as to hold my calls? It’s been a long day.”
Morrell ignored Harvath and said, “You’ll find your training schedules on your desks, as well a listing of when meals are served at the lodge. The conference center runs movies every night as long as there are no classes using the building. On Friday afternoons we normally do a barbecue, weather permitting, and then there are pickup softball games on Sunday—”
“When do we get to roast marshmallows and tell ghost stories?” interrupted Harvath.
Meg was trying her hardest to be polite, but started to laugh. She didn’t feel like laughing, not after everything that had happened to her, but she couldn’t help it. It was cathartic and she let it come.
Morrell had a short fuse and was trying to keep his temper in check. “We host a lot of international guests here, and it is the Agency’s wish that we convey a healthy and appealing American image. They like to call it hearts and minds; I call it bullshit. We’re not here to play games, and you’d do well to remember that.”
“Duly noted. Anything else?” asked Harvath, glad that Meg was still smiling.
“Yes,” said Morrell as he fished two ID badges from his pocket. “These are to be worn at all times. If you’re caught without one, you’ll be detained, and it’ll be my responsibility to come and get you. I don’t want to have to come get you—either of you,” he stressed, staring at Harvath. “You are not to speak with anyone other than me and the rest of my team. We all have rooms in this building—”
“Which one’s yours?” asked Harvath.
“Not a chance,” said Morrell. “Ms. Cassidy, if you should need anything from me, there’s a phone in your room or you can use any of the facility phones and dial the operator. Wherever I am, I’ll be found and will return your call as soon as possible.”
“Got it. Thank you,” said Meg politely.
“I want to remind you both that this is a highly classified operation,” continued Morrell. “We’ve done our best to isolate you, but should you choose to do something like use the gym or see one of the films, you will most likely come across other trainees. If you do, you are not to provide your names, personal history, or any information about the operation you’re involved with. Is that clear?”
Harvath and Meg both nodded their heads.
“Good. Now, you were both relieved of your cell phones and the in-room phones do not dial off the facility. If you feel you need to make a call, you are to contact me. If I feel the call is warranted, I will make arrangements for you to place said call. Is that understood?”
Once again Scot and Meg both nodded their heads.
“It may seem like I’m being a bit excessive—”
“You? Excessive? Never,” said Harvath.
“—but this is for your safety, Ms. Cassidy, and the security of this installation.”
“I understand,” said Meg, trying to make up for the ground she saw Harvath losing with Morrell every time he opened his mouth.
“That seems to be it, then. Tomorrow’s going to be a very busy day, so I suggest you get something to eat and get a good night’s sleep. If there’s anything you want that we don’t already have in our kitchen here, just let me know and I’ll see what I can do.”
“Do you have any beer in there?” asked Harvath.
“We don’t allow alcohol on the Point,” replied Morrell as he opened Meg Cassidy’s door and placed her bag inside.
Bullshit, was what Harvath wanted to say, but he kept his mouth shut and slung his bag into his room and closed the door behind him.
Ten minutes later, Meg knocked.
“What’s up? You’re not homesick already, are you? It’s only the first night of camp,” said Harvath.
Meg tried to force a smile.
“Laugh and the whole world laughs with you, cry and the CIA has you right where they want you,” said Scot.
“Doesn’t it bother you that they don’t seem to like you very much?”
“Who? Morrell and company? Are you kidding? They love me.”
“They sure seem to have a hard time showing it.”
“That’s okay. As long as you and I get along, that’s all I care about.”
“So far so good, I guess.”
Harvath could tell by the tone o
f her voice that she was still upset and was reaching out to him. While he couldn’t go back in time and change what happened, he could at least try to take her mind off of things. “You ‘guess’? I’ll have you know there are many out there that consider me excellent company.”
“Out where? At Harvey Point?”
“You might have to go a bit further afield than that, but my legions of fans do exist.”
Meg was quiet.
“What about dinner? Are you hungry?” asked Harvath.
“Not really.”
“Sure you are. We’ll eat in. The kitchen’s stocked, and I’ll even cook.”
“I think I’ll just turn in early.”
“Meg,” said Harvath as he took her hand in his, “it’s been an overwhelming past couple of days for you, I know, but we’re going to come through this with flying colors, I promise you.”
“You sound so sure.”
“I am. Listen, I understand what you’re feeling and I want you to remember something.” Meg was silent. Harvath gently lifted her chin with his other hand until she was looking him in the eyes. “You are not alone in this. I’m going to be right next to you every step of the way. No matter what happens, you’ll only have to look over and there I’ll be.”
“You promise?” asked Meg as she wiped away the beginnings of the tears she was so desperately trying to keep at bay.
“I promise.”
Finally, she couldn’t hold back anymore and the tears came on full force. Harvath wrapped his arms tightly around her and held Meg Cassidy as she cried.
She felt so good in his arms—her hair against his neck, the smell of her skin. Harvath knew he was in dangerous territory. Eventually, the tears stopped, but neither wanted to break the embrace. Finally, Meg stepped back and reached for the box of Kleenex on his desk. “Able to take out a plane full of hijackers, but cries at the drop of a hat. What a lethal combination, huh?” said Meg, drying her eyes and feeling slightly embarrassed.
“I think you’re just hungry,” answered Harvath, realizing their moment had passed, angry with himself for what he was feeling. “What about dinner?”
“I guess I could eat something.”
“That’s the right attitude. Let’s see what’s in the kitchen,” said Harvath as he swept his hand in front of him and indicated that Meg should lead the way.
While Harvath rummaged through the cabinets, Meg had the base operator track down Rick Morrell. She requested he check on the condition of her people still in the hospital back in Chicago. Five minutes later, Morrell called back. The news was good. Their conditions remained guarded, but improved, especially Judy’s. Meg was relieved to hear it. They were overdue for a piece of good news.
As she hung up the phone, Meg filled Scot in on what she had been told. She then resolved that no matter how long it took, no matter what she had to do, she wouldn’t rest until Hashim Nidal had been put out of business.
Harvath nodded his head in agreement and went back to preparing dinner. Meg Cassidy had turned the corner, and that was good, but she had no idea what still lay ahead of them.
36
The next morning, Meg was up before anyone else. She was in the lodge reading the morning paper by the time Harvath finished working out and had found her. “So what’s it going to be today?” he said as he sat across from Meg and placed two cups of coffee on the table. “Horseback riding or sailing lessons?”
“I wish,” replied Meg. “I have a physical scheduled, so I’ll have to pass on the coffee for now.”
“Pass? Why?”
“They’re going to do a blood draw, and I am supposed to have had nothing to eat or drink except water since midnight.”
Harvath took a sip of his coffee and made a face. “Don’t worry, the coffee’s not that great.”
“You’re just saying that to make me feel better.”
“Yeah, you got me. It’s actually pretty good. The DEA guys probably bring it up from South America. So what fun does Camp Harvey Point have in store for you later?” asked Harvath as he withdrew his copy of Meg’s schedule from his pocket. “Ooh, there’s a fitness assessment after lunch. Somebody planned that one well.”
“They sure did. What kind of a torture farm is this? No food after midnight and then once they do let me eat, they’ve got a fitness test planned right after it?”
“I know it might seem excessive,” said Scot, mimicking Rick Morrell, “but I can assure you this schedule exists for your safety and the security of the facility.”
Meg smiled. Harvath was glad to see her doing better.
“What’s on tap for tonight?” she asked.
“Well, it looks like that’s going to depend upon how long they keep you looking at mug shots.”
“Mug shots? Is that what this undetermined block of time is set up for this afternoon?”
“Yup. They’re going to have you review pictures and descriptions of known and suspected terrorists from some of the world’s biggest databases.”
“Sounds like fun.”
“As long as you’re in an air-conditioned room, count your blessings. I can’t believe how hot it is down here.”
“And humid,” added Meg.
“How’d you sleep last night?”
“Great, why?”
“So your air conditioner works fine?”
“It did last night. Didn’t yours?”
“No,” said Harvath, a sneaking suspicion creeping over him. “For some reason, mine’s on the blink.”
“Why don’t you ask Morrell to look into it for you.”
“I would, if I thought it would actually do any good.”
“Well, maybe if you weren’t such a smart-ass to him, he’d be willing to help you.”
“You don’t know Rick Morrell the way I do.”
“I don’t need to. He’s a person, for crying out loud, and wants to be treated with respect.”
“I agree, but respect is not a given; it has to be earned.”
“Men! Everything is a competition with you.”
“That’s not true,” said Harvath, who noticed that Morrell had entered the lodge and was making his way over to their table. “Listen, try and find out for me what room Morrell is in today, would you please?”
“His room? Why?”
“Never mind, just try to find out, okay?”
“Sure, but—”
“Good morning,” said Morrell as he neared the table and smiled at Meg as sincerely as he was capable of. “I trust everyone slept well?”
“Like a baby,” offered Harvath. He knew the reason his AC didn’t work was somehow Morrell’s doing, but he wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of complaining.
“Ms. Cassidy, are you ready for your physical?”
“The sooner it’s over the sooner I can eat. Let’s go,” said Meg.
“Good. Agent Harvath will meet you back here for lunch.”
“I’ll see you later, okay?” said Scot. “I’m going to go over to the arts-and-crafts cabin to make my mom either a cutting board with a secret compartment for microfilm or a key chain that shoots poison darts.”
Morrell was fed up, but he tried not to show it. “Ms. Cassidy, if you’re ready, I’ll drive you over.”
Meg said good-bye to Scot, and once she had walked away from the table, Harvath caught Morrell by the arm. “You make sure you take care of her, understand me?”
“Yeah, I understand you,” said Morrell, jerking his arm out of Harvath’s grasp. “Relax.”
“Like you take care of your eyes, Ricky. I don’t want anything to happen to her.”
“For fuck’s sake, Harvath, I’m taking her to get a physical. It’s not like we’re disarming land mines.”
“I’m talking about in general. I’m setting the ground rules for the training and the operation right now.”
“You?”
“Yeah, me. Meg Cassidy is not expendable, so you figure that into your planning. Got me?”
“You have a thing for
this woman, don’t you?”
Harvath avoided the question and simply responded, “Her safety is the number-one priority.”
“Number one for you maybe, but number one for me is the successful outcome of my mission.”
“You’d better find a way to reconcile the two, because I’m here to see that nothing happens to her.”
“I thought you were here because you wanted to see us nail Hashim Nidal.”
“That too,” said Harvath, “but not at the expense of this woman’s life.”
“Understood. Are you finished now?” asked Morrell as he impatiently glanced down at his watch.
“Just about. You guys need to realign the profile on Nidal.”
“What? You’re joking right?”
“No, I’m one hundred percent serious. There were two masked hijackers on that plane. I think Meg saw the lieutenant’s face and not Nidal’s.”
“Based on what?”
“She said she saw the one you’re calling the lieutenant, tell off Nidal.”
“Harvath, Meg Cassidy barely remembers anything of what she saw.”
“That’s not true. She had trouble putting together a coherent timetable of the events during her struggle with the hijackers.”
“Same thing in my book. Listen, the man Cassidy saw without his mask was the one issuing all of the orders during the hijacking. I have eyewitnesses who will back that up. This man was also wounded by Cassidy and had to be assisted in his escape from the plane. Are you telling me that we’ve got it wrong and Hashim Nidal would risk his freedom, or possibly worse, his life, to help a lieutenant escape?”
“If that lieutenant knew enough to bring him down, yes.”
“Then why not just kill the lieutenant? Why go to all that extra trouble?” asked Morrell as he glanced once more at his watch.
