Code of Conduct

by Brad Thor

  He was tempted to ignore Porter’s orders and go snatch Damien right now. Landon too. They didn’t have time to sit around and hope that something turned in their favor.

  Just before pulling into his driveway, Harvath had received a text from Ash. He and his team were on the ground in Kinshasa and had hooked up with the STAR team member Colonel White had assigned to them. They were already prepping for how they were going to hit the WHO lab there and recover the samples of Yusuf Mukulu, the mysterious Muslim man who had shown up and collapsed at the Matumaini Clinic.

  Other STAR team members, based on the map coordinates Harvath had provided, were searching for the corpse of the rebel commander, while still more had met up with Jambo back in Bunia, in an attempt to track down Leonce and his son to get blood and tissue samples from them to confirm that all the cases were connected.

  Even once those had been secured, they would need to be flown back for analysis. There was no telling what condition things would be in by then. USAMRIID was already examining samples secured from the CDC. Unlike in the movies, it took a long time to produce a vaccine. Scientists had been studying some viruses forever and there still were no effective vaccines for them. Harvath, though normally optimistic, wasn’t very hopeful that USAMRIID would come up with something in time.

  “Can we speak about Main Core?” Mordechai asked, interrupting Harvath’s train of thought. “We all agree that this is likely what the MC in Damien’s handwritten notes referred to?”

  Harvath nodded. “Based on what Linda Landon was typing, yes.”

  “Back in Tel Aviv, no one thought Main Core actually existed. They believed it was just a conspiracy theory.”

  “Well, they were wrong,” Nicholas interrupted as he padded back into the study along with his laptop and his two gigantic dogs.

  “You’re already in?” Harvath asked.

  “Guess who doesn’t change her passwords as often as Damien?” the little man asked as he tossed his computer onto the couch and climbed up after it.

  “Linda Landon.”

  Nicholas smiled and set the computer on his lap.

  “I still don’t understand the purpose of this list,” said Mordechai. “The United States keeps a list of its own dissidents? Doesn’t this contradict your vaunted Constitutional principles?”

  Harvath couldn’t tell if it was a veiled shot, or a sincere question. He decided to give him the benefit of the doubt when Nicholas jumped in and spoke up.

  “The Constitution has always been meant as a check on government power. Proponents of larger government have lamented that it enshrines a set of negative liberties, specifically by detailing what the government can’t do to you, rather than what the government should do for you.

  “The Founders envisioned a limited government, particularly on the Federal level, but over time it has grown— essentially into its own living, breathing organism, whose prime directive, if you will, is its own continuing survival. That’s where Main Core comes in.

  “The name comes from the fact that it was a database designed to bring together disparate pieces of data from across the commercial, judicial, and law enforcement spectrums and fuse them into a main file, or main core of information if you will. Importance was placed on that information that would help the government immediately track you down if it wanted you.

  “The data has evolved from credit card receipts and utility bills in the 1980s to social media relationships and cell phone location data today. The government, under the guise of ‘we’d never use it, but it’s better to have it and not need it than to need it and not have it,’ has created several different database systems that very clearly violate the country’s Constitutional principles. Of those, Main Core is one of the most insidious.”

  “How does it work?”

  “If a state of national emergency is declared, the Main Core database can be activated. Within the database, citizens are ranked as to the level of threat they are deemed to pose. Recommendations ranging from covertly monitoring communications to apprehension accompany each name. Citizens marked for apprehension are color-coded based on the danger they are expected to pose the arrest team.”

  Nicholas’s eyes met Harvath’s and remained.

  “What?”

  “Your name’s on the list.”

  “For what?”

  The little man shrugged. “It doesn’t say why. But somebody sees you as a serious threat to national security in a time of crisis.”

  “That’s ridiculous.”

  “Is it? How many Senators have you pissed off? How many members of Congress? How many intelligence officials? I’m not saying you weren’t right, I’m just saying you have pissed off a lot of people over the years. Apparently, somebody took it very personally.”

  “So take my name off the list.”

  “I tried.”

  “Try again.”

  “I can’t,” said Nicholas.

  “Why not?”

  “Because it flagged your file and locked me out.”

  Harvath looked at him. “What’s that mean?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “What do you mean you don’t know?”

  Nicholas was exasperated and embarrassed at the same time. “I tripped something, and suddenly I was swarmed.”

  “Swarmed by what?”

  “I don’t know, but they knew what they were doing. They were all over me. They were doing things I had never seen before. Not only were they trying to capture my information, they were trying to trap me so that I couldn’t get out.”

  “Out of a database?” Harvath replied. “Why didn’t you just kick the cord out of the wall?”

  “Seriously?”

  “Of course not, but you understand what I’m saying.”

  “And you’re not understanding what I’m saying. I have never seen anything this sophisticated. Not with a bank, not with a military, and definitely not with a government.”

  Nicholas was upset, and Harvath couldn’t remember ever seeing him like this.

  “Relax,” he said. “It’s all going to be okay.”

  “I hope so.”

  “Hope so?” said Harvath. “You peeled off your name tag before you wandered into their database, right?”

  “I always do. In fact I put on somebody else’s.”

  Now it was Carlton’s turn to chime in. Nicholas had a bad habit of where he chose to make it look like his hacks had originated from. “Where this time?”

  “Second Director’s office, FSB in Moscow.”

  The Old Man thought about it, jutted his bottom lip out, and then nodded. “I don’t have a problem with that.”

  “Just as long as it doesn’t link back to you,” Harvath stated.

  Nicholas didn’t say anything.

  “It’s not going to link back to you, is it?”

  “Normally, I’d say no. But these guys weren’t normal. I don’t know what to say.”

  Harvath looked at his watch and wondered if it was too early for a drink. He was starting to get a headache. Which reminded him, he needed to take his temperature again and text it to the doctor. Of all the stupid things to have to remember to do, this one took the cake, but the Old Man had insisted and had been riding him like a jockey about it.

  Excusing himself, he exited the study and jogged upstairs to his master bath. Removing the thermometer from the drawer where he’d left it that morning, he pulled the cover off and popped it in his mouth. When it beeped, he pulled it out.

  He was up just a little over a degree from where he had been. Interesting. But as it was just a degree, he wasn’t going to worry about it.

  Pulling his phone from his pocket, he texted his temp to the doc and put the thermometer away. After trading texts with Ben Beaman, he returned to the study.

  When he came in, Mordechai was on his phone,
standing on the other side of the room speaking intensely in Hebrew. Harvath looked over at Sloane who nodded at her own phone sitting nearby. She was recording. Good. He liked Mordechai, but you learned quickly in their business not to trust anyone.

  The Israeli pulled the phone away from his ear and said to Harvath, “It’s in Israel. Seventy-five cases and counting. Nine people have bled out, and we’re hearing there may be two to three times as many in the West Bank and Gaza.”

  The Old Man, who was seated next to Nicholas on the couch, looked up from his laptop and stated, “It’s popping up everywhere now. Indonesia, Australia, and New Zealand. India, Pakistan, and Bangladesh. Brazil, Argentina, and Paraguay.”

  “They’re talking about shutting down commercial air travel,” Nicholas added.

  Probably a little late for that, Harvath thought as he walked over and pulled up a chair next to the Old Man.

  “Can you give us a minute?” he asked.

  “Sure,” Nicholas replied as he set his laptop down and slid off the couch.

  When he had left the study, Harvath leaned in toward the Old Man and said, “I have a jet leaving from Reagan tonight. I’d like you to be on it.”

  “Me?” Carlton replied. “Why would I want to do that?”

  Harvath loved Reed Carlton like he was his father. And because he loved him so much, often the line between employer and employee got blurred. “I’ve arranged for Lara and her family to be taken someplace safe. I want you to go with them and make sure they’re okay.”

  The Old Man chortled. “So you need me for security?”

  Harvath didn’t respond.

  “Where are you sending them? Up to that fishing lodge in Alaska?”

  Harvath shouldn’t have been surprised, but he was.

  “It’s okay,” Carlton said. “Your secret destination is safe with me.”

  “Except that apparently, it’s not so secret.”

  The Old Man smiled. “I’ve been there.”

  “When?”

  “Before we hired you, we did a thorough background. Jon and Anya provided character references.” He said, leaning in toward Harvath. “They never told you, did they? Good. Trustworthy family. I like them even more now.”

  Typical Old Man, thought Harvath. Always at least five steps ahead of everyone else. “Excellent, I’ll make sure they have your favorite bourbon on the plane.”

  “Whoa,” Carlton replied, holding his hand up. “I’m not going to Alaska. In fact, I’m not going anywhere.”

  “But, sir—”

  “No buts. There’s too much work to be done here.”

  “Agreed, but you can work from the plane as well as from Alaska. Jon’s lodge is practically a full-on SCIF.”

  The Old Man smiled. “If you’ve got something to say, why don’t you say it?”

  Harvath worshipped Reed Carlton. And while he didn’t dwell on it, he lamented the day the Old Man would eventually pass. Carlton was not only an American treasure, but he was the Babe Ruth of the espionage game. In a world of soft, unsophisticated men trapped in perpetual adolescence, he was not only a man’s man, he was a patriot who always put his nation before himself.

  Pulling no punches, Harvath gave it to him straight. “Babies and old people, that’s who disease grabs first.”

  “Are you saying I’m old?”

  “Of course not. I’d never say that. How about other than young?”

  “Other than young.” Carlton chuckled at how Harvath had used Arabic phrasing to soften his remark.

  “All expenses paid. You can take Marco fishing for salmon. If any bears show up, they’ll go running the minute they see you, so I know he’ll be safe. Everyone wins.”

  “Anya does grill the world’s best steak.”

  “There you go,” Harvath replied, encouraged. “You don’t even need to pack. Let me know what you need, and I’ll shoot a list to Jon. Everything will be waiting for you.”

  “Everything,” Carlton said, “except for Joey.”

  Immediately, Harvath felt terrible. It was like a knife had just been punched through his heart.

  “Joey” was Reed Carlton’s wife, Josephine. Ten years before Harvath had met Carlton, she had suffered a massive stroke, followed by very serious dementia. Everything had been downhill from there.

  Joey now lived in a comfortable assisted living facility in northern Virginia not far from the Carltons’ home.

  The man wasn’t going to leave his bride, and it made Harvath love him all the more.

  “What if I got her on the plane?”

  Carlton smiled. “I don’t know if I ever told you this, Scot, but you’re a good man. I wish I could go, but I can’t. And as there’s no way we’re going to uproot Joey and transfer her all the way to Alaska, let’s just let it lie. Okay?”

  No, it wasn’t okay. Harvath wanted him on that plane.

  The Old Man put his hand on his arm. “This isn’t my first rodeo. If God had wanted to take me, He has had more than ample opportunity.”

  Harvath didn’t like it, but he understood it, and smiled back. Carlton was integrity personified. For better or worse, that was the promise he had made. He was a man of his word, a man of honor—and Harvath admired him to no end.

  “There’s something else we need to talk about,” the Old Man said, pointing at the laptop. “Before Nick got caught tampering with your file, he was able to take a brief look around the Main Core database. He took some screen shots. Apparently, there was a new list, created just over a month ago. I think you need to see it.”

  “Why? Who’s on it?”

  “I’ll let Nick show you,” said Carlton as the little man came back into the study, his mug filled with hot coffee.

  Balancing the mug on the end table, he climbed back up onto the couch.

  “Show Scot that last screen grab you showed me,” the Old Man said.

  Nicholas keyed in his password and then tilted the screen so Harvath could see it.

  Seeing the first name, Harvath exclaimed, “That’s the Chief Justice of the United States Supreme Court.”

  “Keep reading,” Carlton advised.

  “The next four are United States Senators, followed by a handful of Congress people. What the hell are they all doing on the list?”

  “That’s what I was wondering.”

  “I thought Main Core was for civilians. Why would you add all these people, and why now?” Harvath asked.

  “Somebody, maybe Damien or Linda Landon, sees them as a threat. They’ve been color-coded for detention, Gold, same as you.”

  “But out of nine SCOTUS justices, why just the Chief Justice? I agree he’s outspoken when it comes to limiting the scope of government power, but what about the other justices who vote with him the majority of the time? Why aren’t they on the list?”

  “And why only those particular Senators and Congresspeople?” the Old Man replied, answering a question with a question. “They’re also outspoken, I’ll give you that, but there are others who are just as loud.”

  None of it made any sense. What the hell were Damien and Landon up to?

  “We need to warn them,” said Harvath. “They need to know about the list and the fact that they’re on it.”

  “Then what?”

  “Then they can decide what they want to do. But at least they’ll know something may be coming.”

  “Who’s going to call them?” Carlton asked. “You? Me? And assuming we could track them down, why would they listen to either of us?”

  He had a point. What’s more, none of them was going to like hearing they were on the list. They would take it as an incredible affront and be out for scalps and political blood. What would stop them from calling their own contacts at the Department of Homeland Security and elsewhere in order to get to the bottom of it? It was a dangerous gamble that c
ould result in Damien accelerating whatever else he might have planned.

  “What if McGee called them?”

  “The CIA Director?”

  Harvath nodded. “He’ll tell them it’s a matter of national security and that they can’t breathe a word of it to anyone.”

  “Okay,” the Old Man said after thinking about it for a moment. “Let’s shoot this information to him.”

  “I’m on it,” said Nicholas, as he closed his laptop and prepared to return to his van.

  As he slid down from the couch, Harvath heard his driveway alarm chime. Looking up at the TV, he saw Palmer coming onto the property. He was going to have a lot of supplies to unload.

  “Do you need any help?” Carlton asked as Harvath stood up.

  “No thanks,” Harvath replied. “Why don’t you bring Mordechai up to speed when he gets off his call.”

  Stepping into the hall, he caught up with Nicholas and said, “Hold on a second.”

  The little man turned. “What’s up?”

  “I have a private jet coming in tonight. I think you should put Nina on it. If you want to get on too, I’ll understand. You can take the dogs with you.”

  “Alaska?”

  Harvath nodded.

  “And if I say no?”

  “Then you’re stuck with me.”

  The little man smiled. “I like those odds.”

  Harvath smiled back. There was a time where Nicholas would have already fled, concerned only for himself. Regardless of what Mordechai or anyone else thought, Harvath knew a leopard could change its spots. He had seen it with his own eyes.

  “Call Nina,” he said. “Get her packed. We’ll send somebody to pick her up.”

  Nicholas extended his small hand. “Thank you. I’ll feel better knowing she’s safe.”

  Watching the little man walk away, Harvath felt the weight of the world on his shoulders. Safe didn’t exist anymore—not when it came to a virus. They could hole up in the middle of nowhere, but would they really be safe?

  As far as Harvath was concerned, safe was a lie. All it did was make people feel better. He didn’t want to be safe from the virus, he wanted to stop the virus.

  Multiple plans of action had been pinging inside his brain, vying for attention. None of them were good. All of them were dangerous and outside the rule of law. They fell into only two categories—bad and worse—and the President would have said no to all of them.