Page 7 of Spymaster

It was almost two months ago that Harvath and the Old Man had embraced outside the New Hampshire cottage, and much had happened since. People were asking questions. Carlton’s name was coming up in more and more conversations. It wasn’t safe for him. So Ryan had made the decision to put the next phase of Harvath’s plan into action.

CHAPTER 6

VÆRNESAIRSTATION

STJØRDAL, NORWAY

Even if they could have gotten a fire crew into the woods and to the cabin, it was a lost cause. A forensics team would be left to sift through the ashes. There wasn’t much hope of finding anything.

Harvath and Jasinski returned to the injured Norwegians and did what they could for them.

When reinforcements arrived, Harvath slipped away. He had several loose ends to tie up before he took off. A car was waiting for him just beyond the first-responder vehicles. It was a half hour before Jasinki realized he was gone. It was an additional forty-five minutes before she was able to get her own ride back to Værnes.

Værnes Air Station belonged to the Norwegian Royal Air Force. One of its biggest users, though, was the United States Marine Corps.

As part of the Marines’ Preposition Program, massive amounts of U.S. military equipment entered Norway via Værnes. From there, it was stashed in top-secret caves throughout the region in case a NATO member was ever invaded and the organization was called to war. Preventing an attack on those caves was what tonight’s raid on the cabin had all been about. The equipment inside was a highly strategic stockpile. Had it been destroyed, it would have been a critical blow to an alliance that had come so far and had been so successful.

Created in the aftermath of World War II, the North Atlantic Treaty Organization had originally comprised Belgium, Canada, Denmark, France, Iceland, Italy, Luxembourg, the Netherlands, Norway, Portugal, the United Kingdom, and the United States.

It then went on to add Greece, Turkey, Germany, Spain, the Czech Republic, Hungary, Poland, Bulgaria, Estonia, Latvia, Lithuania, Romania, Slovakia, Albania, Slovenia, Croatia, and Montenegro.

It had been formed as a means of collective defense in the hope of discouraging war. Article 5 of its treaty stated that an attack on one member was an attack on all. No matter who the aggressor, member nations were obligated to come to the aid of their fellows.

Only once in NATO’s history had Article 5 ever been invoked. In the wake of 9/11, the nations of NATO had joined together and gone to war in Afghanistan.

But while the September 11 attacks had demonstrated the asymmetric threat of Islamic terrorism, another threat—one far greater and far more powerful—was looming on the horizon.

As it had done in Crimea, Russia planned to take back all of its former territory. It was going to continue with the Baltic nations of Lithuania, Latvia, and Estonia. There was only one thing standing in Russia’s way—the North Atlantic Treaty Organization. But ever the tacticians, Moscow had already formulated a plan to break NATO.

Harvath, though, had developed a plan as well. The United States didn’t intend to be drawn into another world war in Europe. It also didn’t intend to let the greatest military alliance in history be dissolved. No matter what the cost, Harvath couldn’t allow the Russians to succeed.

He had been set up in an officer’s quarters on the north side of the airfield in the Værnes Garrison. It smelled like stale carpet and looked as if it had been furnished for a hundred bucks spent at a local IKEA store.

He could hear Monika Jasinski coming down the hallway. Tucking his phone into his back pocket, he walked over and opened the door.

She confronted him right away. “The Norwegians are looking for you. They want to chat about the dead guy. Might have been a good idea to check in with someone before leaving the scene.”

Before he could reply, she continued on. “Would you care to explain to me what happened out there? We were specifically told that we couldn’t carry weapons here. How was it that you had a pistol?”

“You’re welcome,” he said.

His response took her by surprise. “For what?”

Fingering the rip in her parka where the shrapnel had just missed her neck, he replied, “For saving your life.”

Color rose to her cheeks. He couldn’t tell if she was embarrassed or growing angrier.

Turning her head away, she murmured, “Thank you.”

He stood back so she could enter.

At a small table sat a gray-haired man with a thin mustache. He wore a dark turtleneck and gray trousers. A pillar of blue smoke rose from the cigarette in the ashtray in front of him.

Jasinski looked at him. “Who’s this?”

Using the heel of his boot to shut the door, Harvath introduced her. “Monika Jasinski, meet Carl Pedersen. Carl is NIS. Norwegian Intelligence Service”

“I know what NIS is,” she responded, confused as to what the man was doing there.

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