Page 54 of Spymaster

Porter knew she was right. They had to see this through. It didn’t make it any easier, though, to watch unfold. Nor did it ease his mind about what might come next.

Which brought him to the other item he wanted to discuss. Pausing, he said, “Let’s talk about what we’re going to do regarding Matterhorn.”

CHAPTER 33

GOTLAND, SWEDEN

SATURDAY

After a few hours’ sleep, Harvath had come downstairs to relieve Haney and monitor radio traffic from the team out at the Sparrman property. So far, not a creature was stirring, though it being a farm, he expected activity to start pretty soon.

The country house they were staying in was an eclectic mix of old and new. The furniture was modern and brightly colored, while everything else looked as if it had been frozen sometime in the late 1800s. It smelled like lavender, and Harvath strongly suspected that the owner had placed sachets of it in hidden locations around the home.

He was sitting at the dining room table, killing time, with a mug of hot coffee and a book, when he heard Jasinski come downstairs.

“What are you doing up?” he asked.

“I kept tossing and turning. I can’t stop thinking about what happened in Norway, and now Rome.”

“I eventually turned the TV off. They just kept repeating the same images. Did you get any sleep at all?”

“A little. Not much,” she replied.

“There’s coffee in the kitchen.”

Jasinski thanked him and joined him at the table a few minutes later with her own mug. “What are you reading?”

Harvath held the book up so she could see it. “Writer, Sailor, Soldier, Spyby Nicholas Reynolds.”

“How is it?”

“It’s fascinating—all about how Ernest Hemingway was a spy for both U.S. and Soviet Intelligence.”

“He was?”

Harvath nodded. “Did you ever read Alexander Foote’sHandbook for Spies?”

“No. Should I?”

“It covers some of the same material regarding Soviet spy networks, but it’s a first-person account. I think it should be required reading for anyone in our business.”

Jasinski looked at him over the rim of her mug. “So, you’re a spy?”

“To be honest with you, Monika, I don’t know exactly what I am.”

She smiled. “I was always told that when someone says, ‘to be honest with you,’ it often means they’re lying.”

Harvath smiled back. “Not this time.”

“If you’re not a spook, what are you, then?”

It was a good question, and one that Harvath had been trying for a while to come up with an answer for. “I don’t think there’s a word for it. At least not one that covers all the aspects of the job.”

“Well, there has to be a word better thanconsultant. Why don’t you tell me about the person you work for? I understand he and Lars Lund and Carl Pedersen knew each other.”

“They all go way back,” said Harvath. “Cold War guys.”

“What did your boss do?”

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