Page 105 of Spymaster

Harvath would have liked to have been around to have seen Göring’s beloved lodge burned to the ground.

As it was, he’d have to take pleasure in sticking it to the Russians by using the lake for their escape.

On the western shore of the Polish side was a hotel and health spa. Because half his team would be needed to help coordinate their exfil, and because half were not HALO certified, Harvath decided that’s where they would be based. As guests of the hotel, they would have the perfect cover for exploring the lake and the areas around it.

With that settled, Harvath sat down with Haney and began to make an extensive list of everything the operation would require. He started with how much gear each team member could jump into Kaliningrad with, and then worked on honing it down to what was absolutely essential. It was going to be a bitch pulling the equipment together from various American military outposts in the region, but if anyone could make it happen, it was Haney.

He was, of course, disappointed not to be going into Kaliningrad, even though he was HALO qualified. He had suffered a leg injury during their assignment in Libya, and the team couldn’t risk his reinjuring it on this jump.

Jasinski wasn’t qualified, so she’d be staying back with Haney as part of the exfil element. Because of the water component involved in their escape, Harvath wanted Barton, a SEAL, to stay back and make sure all of it went off without a hitch.

The trio had already been dropped at Olsztyn-Mazury Airport, near the village of Syzmany. Their portion of the gear would be flown in via a military transport plane. Once it arrived, they would hook the trailers up to the SUVs they had rented and drive to their hotel on Lake Goldap.

Inserting with Harvath into Kaliningrad would be Ashby, Staelin, and Palmer. Morrison and Gage had remained back in Brussels with Nicholas to guard the compound and keep an eye on Kuznetsov until a CIA security team arrived to fly him to Landstuhl Medical Center for treatment.

Harvath would have preferred to be going into Kaliningrad with more operators, but the bigger their footprint, the greater their visibility. Four would have to do.

As the Gulfstream jet made its final approach into Šiauliai International Airport in Lithuania, Harvath went through everything again. He wanted every possible angle nailed down before they launched. And they needed to launch as soon as possible.

Not only was President Porter anxious for them to get to Tretyakov, but there was also the concern that Swedish intelligence could cover up what had happened on Gotland for only so long. At some point, Kuznetsov was going to miss a communications window and the GRU was going to get suspicious.

Did that mean Tretyakov would move or go into hiding? Harvath didn’t know, but he also didn’t want to find out. The sooner they got into Kaliningrad, the sooner they could get to him, and the sooner they could get out.

This operation had Harvath concerned on a variety of different levels, not the least of which was the speed at which it was moving. And when you were moving at such high speed, the slightest mistake could turn into the deadliest of events.

CHAPTER 61

ŠIAULIAI, LITHUANIA

Šiauliai International Airport had once been one of the largest military air bases in the Soviet Union. Now, it was home to NATO’s Baltic Air Policing mission. It provided for the rapid scrambling of fighter jets and other aircraft to help protect the airspace over Lithuania, Latvia, and Estonia.

As Harvath dropped the airstairs of the Gulfstream, he saw a familiar face waiting for him out on the tarmac.

“Sveiki atvyke?!”shouted Carl Pedersen over the sound of the engines winding down. “Welcome to Lithuania.”

The Norwegian was dressed in a turtleneck and a pair of well-pressed trousers. He didn’t look at all like a man who had raced to find a plane and landed only an hour earlier.

Harvath descended the airstairs and shook his hand. “It’s good to see you, Carl. Thank you for doing this.”

“Where would America be without Norway?” he replied with a smile. Then, motioning to the man next to him, he said, “May I introduce Filip Landsbergis of the VSD, Lithuania’s State Security Department.”

“It is a pleasure to meet you.”

Landsbergis was a tall man in his early forties with blond hair and green eyes. He wore a Barbour coat over a gray suit and a simple navy tie. His handshake was firm.

“We appreciate your hosting us,” said Harvath.

“Technically, this is a simple NATO rotation,” the Lithuanian said, smiling. His English was excellent. “Planes take off, planes land. Who’s to say what happens when they’re in the air?”

Harvath smiled back. “Understood.”

He pointed to a waiting van. “When your team is ready, we have an area set up where they can refresh themselves and wait for the rest of your equipment to arrive. In the meantime, I have reserved a secure meeting room where we can discuss some of the additional items you have requested. My car is this way.”

Pedersen joined him and they followed Landsbergis to his vehicle. The drive across the air base only took a couple of minutes.

They arrived at a long two-story Soviet-era building. Even with the landscaping improvements that had been made outside, nothing could detract from how ugly the structure was.

The VSD operative parked his car near the front and led his guests through two glass doors into the lobby. Their meeting room was halfway down a fluorescently lit corridor to the right.

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