Page 102 of Shadow of Doubt

To do that, someone other than Harvath was going to have to take a pretty big risk. As Staelin had already stabilized Haney and was closest to the dead Russians, he had offered to do it.

With Preisler laying down a volley of cover fire, which was aimed well into the tree canopy so as not to accidentally hit Harvath, Staelin ran back to Elovik’s vehicle.

Using it for cover, he peeled off his balaclava and put it over the head of the dead driver. Then came the hard part.

Planting his feet, he grabbed hold of the body from behind and keyed his radio to let Harvath know he was in position. A bona fide CrossFit fanatic, Staelin credited the program with helping him to maintain his edge. But even in spite of all the dead lifts he’d done in the gym, he never thought he would actually do one in the field, much less that his life and the life of his teammates would depend on it.

Out in the trees, Harvath crouched down, his senses on fire, ready to take out the sniper. He then keyed his radio two times in quick succession, transmitting the signal for Staelin to act.

Upon hearing the clicks over his earpiece, Staelin tightened his core, pushed hard with his legs, and drove the corpse upward so that its masked head peeked above the hood of the vehicle, offering the sniper an irresistible target.

No one moved. No one spoke. No one dared even breathe. The entire team remained quiet. Seconds passed. The sniper refused to take the bait.

How the hell could that be? Perhaps he had already fled and was no longer in the trees. Maybe the vehicle Harvath had seen in the parking area wasn’t actually his.

A dozen possible scenarios were racing through Harvath’s mind when, suddenly, he heard thepopof a twig snapping directly behind him.

Faking to his left, he applied pressure to his trigger and began firing as he lunged right and spun 180 degrees.

The sniper’s bullet missed his head by a millimeter, but Harvath’s rounds found their target, slicing through the man’s groin and lower abdomen.

Before the sniper could bring his weapon back to bear, Harvath fired again and again—driving three rounds center-mass through his heart, and two more, just for good measure, directly into his forehead.

The man fell to the ground, his rifle discharging one final time as he landed. Thankfully, Harvath wasn’t in the path of the bullet.

“Target neutralized,” he said over the radio. Patting down the sniper, he found the man’s car fob, cell phone, and a Russian diplomatic passport. “Be prepared to roll,” he added. “I’m heading your way. Black Dacia Duster. Don’t let Johnson shoot me.”

“Fuck you,” Johnson replied through gritted teeth, the pain evident in his voice.

Having dropped the Russian corpse and gone back to tend his wounded comrades, Staelin radioed, “We’re going to need additional medical. What’s the plan?”

“I’m working on it,” said Harvath, who could already hear the wail of Klaxons off in the distance.

As he rushed back to the sniper’s vehicle, he pulled out his phone and sent Nicholas a text:Haney & Johnson shot. Need medical. Also need new safehouse. DO NOT contact COS Powell. DO NOT contact CIA. REPEAT do not contact Powell/CIA.

With that, he hopped into the SUV, started the engine, and sped out of the trailhead parking lot.

Moments later, he came flying into the cutout and skidded to a halt next to the van. “Did you guys check the bodies?” he asked as he helped Staelin load an extremely pale Haney, tourniquet around his right arm, into the back seat of the Duster.

“Negative.”

Once Haney was safely in the SUV and Staelin had gone to help withJohnson, Harvath hurried over to search the dead Russians, starting with the pair from the embassy security vehicle.

Just like the sniper, they were also carrying diplomatic passports. After matching the photos to their faces, he put the passports in his pocket and ignored their phones. The devices would only serve as homing beacons for a subsequent Russian reprisal.

Moving quickly to the lead vehicle, he checked the photos against the two dead security agents, peeling the balaclava off the corpse Staelin had propped up, and then pocketed their passports as well.

But when he went to roll the deceased military attaché over, he got a huge surprise. It wasn’t Elovik at all.

Taking out his phone, he pulled up the photo he’d been given, just to confirm that he wasn’t mistaken. He wasn’t. It definitely wasn’t the attaché.

Grabbing the man’s passport, Harvath gathered up the team’s gear from the two Renaults and hustled back to the Duster. Johnson had just been placed inside and the cops were almost on the scene.

As he tossed the gear in back, climbed into the SUV, and put the vehicle in drive, he had two priorities. The first was to get his injured teammates medical attention ASAP. The second was to settle the score with the person who had set them up.

The fact that Elovik hadn’t been part of that embassy convoy was the final piece of the puzzle. He knew exactly who he needed to go after and was already formulating a plan for how he was going to make Ray Powell pay.

CHAPTER 56

---