Page 60 of Spymaster

Looking at Haney, Harvath said, “If they remain on course, they’ll drive right past us. Let’s get on the other side of the street so we can pull out behind them once the last of the vehicles drives past.”

“Roger that,” Haney said, pulling back out into the street and looking for a place to turn around.

Once he had, Harvath saw a parking spot up ahead and told him to grab it. It was right in front of a trendy women’s clothing boutique.

Pulling a pen from his jacket pocket, he asked Sloane what her sizes were.

“What for?” she asked.

“Because you’re going to need to look the part.”

“What part?”

“Don’t worry, just give me your sizes,” he said, getting out of the minivan.

As he did, he handed Haney his phone back, instructed him to put the same question to Jasinski, and have her text back the information.

He needed to move fast. At best, the vehicles were fifteen minutes outside of town.

CHAPTER 37

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” said Sloane, who had parked and was now in back of the minivan. “What did you do? Pop into a Whores-R-Us and ask for the sluttiest stuff they had in my size?”

“It’s a little black dress,” Harvath replied. “Don’t be so melodramatic.”

“You got thelittlepart right. But this isn’t a dress. It’s a cocktail napkin with straps.”

“You’re going to look great.”

Sloane gave him the finger and then, turning it upside down, signaled him to face the other direction. Politely, he obliged her.

He had made it out of the boutique with only moments to spare. After he had tossed the bags in the minivan, it was less than a minute before Sparrman drove past, with Sloane several car lengths behind. Behind her were the other two vehicles filled with Spetsnaz operatives. As they passed, Harvath could see that’s what they were. They were hard, switched-on fighters.

Harvath had consumed enough alcohol with enough operators to know that they didn’t become any less aggressive when they were out drinking. Some became even more so. He hoped, though, that after a few rounds, they’d loosen up; relax a little. All he needed was a sliver of daylight, for the figurative door to be opened just a crack, and he would exploit the hell out of it.

“Okay. You can turn back around,” Sloane said.

The dress looked amazing—as if it had been designed just for her. “Not bad.”

“Fuck you,not bad. I’m sure I look fantastic,” she replied from the backseat of the minivan.

They had driven into Visby’s walled Old Town and watched as Sparrman and his crew parked their vehicles and entered an Irish-themed sports bar and restaurant called O’Learys. It was a chain, with outlets all across Sweden.

The entrance was via a large patio, which had a retractable roof and was dotted with seating areas and portable gas heaters. Inside was a long bar with additional chairs and tables. Televisions were mounted everywhere. Even on the patio, customers could catch a range of matches happening around the world—all of which appeared to be either rugby or soccer.

Haney had taken up a position across the street to keep an eye on O’Learys, while Harvath had parked the minivan around the corner and linked up with Sloane.

“I bet at least half the women in there are going to be wearing jeans,” she complained.

“Then that’s just going to make your job all the easier,” he replied.

“Next time you tell me to pack a bag, I’m going to make sure I pack myowndress.Andshoes.”

Pulling out a shoebox from the shopping bag he had handed her, she removed the lid and looked inside. “Hooker heels?” she asked, holding up one of the shoes so he could see its tall, Lucite heel. “You really did go to Whores-R-Us. You couldn’t have bought me a nice pair of thigh-high boots?”

“They didn’t have any in your size.”

“How am I supposed to operate in these?”

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