Page 94 of Spymaster

CHAPTER 55

“Do you want the good news first? Or the bad news?”

Harvath hated conversations that began this way. “I’ve had a rough couple of days. I could use some good news. Let’s start with that.”

Dr. Matthias Vella was an unassuming man in his fifties—slim, with dark hair and glasses. He buckled his seat belt as they pulled out of the airport. The enormous amount of equipment he had brought with him on the private jet barely fit inside the team’s van.

A PhD in psychiatry and neurochemistry, Vella ran a privately contracted black site. It was located in a windowless, subterranean facility on Malta, nicknamed the Solarium. Their business was top-secret interrogation and high-value detainee detention.

Vella’s specialty was the study of the neurological processes of interrogation. He was particularly interested in what could be done via chemical and biological means to speed it up.

Removing a folder from his briefcase, he opened it and said, “We ran your guy past our Russian friend Viktor Sergun.”

“Did he recognize Gashi?”

“Immediately. But his name isn’t Dominik Gashi and he isn’t a Kosovan refugee. His name is Ivan Kuznetsov. He’s a GRU operative.”

“Anything else?” asked Harvath.

Vella shut the folder. “A little bit of his military background, some of the previous operations he has run for the GRU. Nothing particularly valuable.”

Harvath had been correct. Their prisoner did work for Russian military intelligence. That was an important confirmation. Having a name was a good step forward. He would put Nicholas on it as soon as they arrived back at the compound.

The fact that Sergun could only provide modest background information on Kuznetsov, though, was a disappointment. Harvath knew that the more material Vella had, the better and faster the interrogation would proceed.

“What’s the bad news?”

“The bad news,” said Vella, “is that you’re handing me a subject with multiple bullet wounds, who hasmaybebeen stabilized.”

“So?”

“So remember what happened in Syria?”

Harvath did remember. He had tried to remotely conduct an interrogation using Vella’s techniques. The subject had an underlying heart condition and had died during it.

“What about it?” Harvath asked.

Vella rolled his eyes. He knew Harvath wasn’t this obtuse. “Come on, Scot. You know why we do a full medical workup before we start one of these things. Heart rates spike, adrenal production goes into overdrive, cortisol levels skyrocket. The stress response is just off the charts. Kuznetsov might not be able to handle it.”

“What are you proposing?”

“I’m going to have to dial it back—a lot. At least initially, until I see how much he can handle. In other words, there’s going to be a delay.”

“How much of a delay?” asked Harvath.

“Depending how much of the formula I can administer, it could be days. Maybe a week.”

“That’s not going to work.”

“I’m giving you a worst-case scenario,” replied Vella, who caught himself and said, “Actually,deathis the worst-case scenario. What I’m giving you is a potential timeline.”

Harvath knew that a lot of what Vella did was still in its infancy. It wasn’t something that could be widely studied and peer reviewed. It was, in essence, a dark art that wasn’t talked about or shared.

He had brought the man in to speed things up, not to coddle their prisoner and slow things down. But at the end of the day, Vella was here because he was a professional, with a very specific set of skills, which Harvath respected. What’s more, Kuznetsov’s death would certainly bring things to a halt.

“Do what you have to do,” he told the doctor. “But do it as fast as you can. We’re running out of time.”

•••

---