Page 118 of Shadow of Doubt

Drawing the Russians into the building had been the only way to flush Elovik into the open and separate him from as many of his security forces as possible. It had been done at a considerable risk, but it had paid off.

The next step in Harvath’s plan came with its own potential downfalls—not the least of which being their inability to, once again, escape before law enforcement arrived.

He had also worried that Jourdain and his two nurses wouldn’t go for it, but offering to significantly increase the amount of money they were being paid had eliminated all resistance.

While Jourdain and the nurses took Johnson and Haney to the underground parking facility, Harvath and Staelin dumped the dead Russian back in the stairwell, rolling his body down a level, and then returned to the fifth floor to retrieve Haney’s 417, and so that Harvath could plant something on one of the bodies.

After sanitizing Jourdain’s clinic, bagging up the medical waste from Johnson’s and Haney’s procedures, which would be thrown in the back of one of the nurse’s cars, they went down to the garage, where Harvath hopped in the passenger seat of the lead vehicle, Staelin did the same in the third vehicle, and they all departed the underground parking facility together.

As they drove, Nicholas kept track of their progress remotely, scrubbing footage from each of the traffic cameras they passed.

From Jourdain’s clinic, it was a half-hour drive to the village of Les Molières and the team’s new safehouse.

The director of Bastide Lumière, a luxury assisted living community in the countryside southeast of Paris, was a long-standing business partner of Jourdain’s. Whenever his clinic was full, or he had patients who required extended stays, Bastide Lumière, or in English the luminous country house, was where he placed them.

The property was over two hundred bucolic acres with an eighteenth-century chateau as its main facility. Scattered throughout the woods were smaller houses for residents who were capable of independent living. There was a full modern medical clinic, a spa, two golf courses, tennis courts, a restaurant, a movie theater, and all the other amenities one would expect from a high-end development of its kind.

Harvath and his team had been booked into a cluster of cottages as far away from the rest of the structures as possible. And while Haney had said no to a hospital bed, one was definitely waiting for Johnson when they got there.

One of the nurses would stay in the room next to his to keep an eye on him, while Haney would receive the same care from the other nurse. Jourdain, as requested, would remain on property to oversee everything.

With Haney and Johnson settled in, Harvath left Staelin behind to protect them, borrowed Jourdain’s car, and drove to an even more remote part of the property to meet up with Preisler.

When he got there, he stepped out of the vehicle and took a deep breath. The evening air was cool and smelled of pine. It was quiet. Peaceful.

For a moment, Harvath was almost able to forget that he was in the middle of an operation.

Almost.

CHAPTER 68

Knocking on the side of the maintenance shed, Harvath waited for Preisler to roll the sliding door back. When he did, the first thing he noticed was Powell’s Citroen sitting off to the side of the large space.

“Do you want to bring your vehicle in?” Preisler asked.

Harvath shook his head. “It’ll be okay outside.”

Standing aside, Preisler let Harvath enter and then slid the door closed behind him.

“Any problem getting here?” Harvath asked.

“Negative,” Preisler replied. “Neither of those assholes wanted to ride in the trunk, but other than that, everything went fine.”

Harvath had figured as much. He and Preisler had predetermined a secluded spot for Preisler to pull over. Upon which, Powell was enlisted to help secure Elovik and place him in the trunk. After that, it was Powell’s turn. The less each of them was aware of, the better.

Powell already knew Harvath’s reputation and what he was capable of. Inviting, or even forcing him to watch the interrogation, was pointless. By and large the station chief had served his purpose. When Harvath was ready to put him out with the trash, he would do so. Right now, he had some very personal business to attend to.

Unlike the woodsy scent outside, the maintenance shed smelled like diesel fuel and old motor oil. The concrete floor was cracked and covered with decades of stains. Iron trusses ran overhead, and snatches of moonlight spilled through the dirty glass skylights. Parked at the far side, ayellow snowplow looked old enough to have served as a troop transport in World War II.

The place had character. It had served a purpose in life. And though it was a little aged and a bit worn down, it was still doing its job. Harvath respected that.

He also respected the touch of modern that had recently been added, and which Preisler now drew his attention to. Mounted to one of the trusses was a two-ton electric chain hoist. Its remote hung from a thick, black cord. Underneath, a table with two chairs had been set up.

“Hands over his head or keep them behind his back?” Preisler asked, a wry smile on his face.

Harvath smiled back. Even the most inexperienced police officers didn’t pull up on cuffs to get a suspect to his feet when his hands were behind his back.

What’s more, with equipment like this it wouldn’t take much to tear the arms out of someone’s sockets. Between the screaming and the passing out from the pain, the interrogation they were planning could go well into overtime. Nobody, especially Harvath, wanted to be here a minute longer than they needed.

---