Page 95 of Shadow of Doubt

Opening a hard-sided Storm case, Powell revealed two video cameras, digital audio recorders, and several tripods to mount everything on.

“The entire structure is outfitted with high-speed, encrypted Wi-Fi,” he said, handing Harvath a small piece of paper with the log-in and password.

“How many cameras are there?” Harvath asked. “Besides the three I saw outside.”

The station chief led him to a small office off the interrogation chamber. Inside was a desk with a wide flat-screen monitor. Moving the mouse to wake it up, Powell tapped several keys saying, “Same password as the Wi-Fi, but in reverse.” The screen then lit up with the feeds from all of the cameras.

“Nothing down here?” Harvath asked.

The CIA man shook his head. “None. You can turn any of the cameras on and off from this workstation.”

“Backed up to the cloud?”

Powell nodded. “But we’ll scrub everything when you guys are done.”

Sure you will,Harvath thought to himself. They had already blackmailed him once. He didn’t intend to give them another opportunity. “What about the vehicles?”

“Right this way,” the station chief said, taking him back upstairs and into the service area.

Sitting there were two unmarked Renaults—a windowless panel van and a sedan. They were both painted in the deep navy blue popular with French law enforcement and security services.

“Go ahead,” Powell encouraged him. “Take a closer look.”

Since the van was closest, Harvath checked it out first. Sliding its side door open, he looked inside.

Everything was set up just the way he had requested. Moving around to the driver’s side, he opened the door and tested the blue strobe lights mounted behind the grille, as well as a quick squawk from the Klaxon. Inside the enclosed space, it was ear-piercing.

Leaving the van, he walked over and checked out the sedan. “No strobes?” he asked, not seeing a switch.

“Gumball,” Powell responded, referring to a single, spinning light that could be manually attached to the roof via its magnetic base. “The cops use them all the time in Paris. Very authentic. There’s one on the trunk.”

Harvath gave the sedan’s Klaxon a quick blast, making sure that it was operational. It was. In fact, it sounded even louder than the one on the van.

“What about the raid vests?”

“Also in the trunk,” said the station chief.

Walking to the rear of the car, Harvath popped the lid and looked inside. Next to the box containing the blue gumball were five tactical vests, all emblazoned with emblems from the Research and Intervention Brigade, or BRI for short.

The BRI was a highly specialized police tactical unit responsible for hostage rescue, as well as taking down France’s most violent criminals.Except for their SWAT teams, it was a plainclothes unit, which spent most of its time hiding out among the public.

When it was time to spring into action, they donned balaclavas, the black tactical vests, and special police armbands, which Powell had also been able to secure. They carried their pistols in military-style thigh holsters worn right over their jeans.

Whether on TV, in movies, or the news, there wasn’t a single French citizen who couldn’t recognize the BRI. Everyone knew that they meant business and not to get in their way. Even beat cops kept their distance, unless directly instructed to engage.

The station chief had delivered all the items on Harvath’s wish list, right down to clean license plates.

“Anything else we can do for you?” the station chief asked.

“I think we’re good,” said Harvath, offering his hand. “Thank you.”

Powell shook his hand and after handing over a couple of gate remotes said, “You know how to reach me if you need me. Here’s hoping you don’t. Good luck.”

After the CIA man had left and the gate had closed, Harvath shut down all the cameras and set to work finding any others that Powell might have “forgotten” to mention. He also had his team scour the vehicles for hidden surveillance equipment, including tracking devices.

As they worked, he made contact with Nicholas and provided him remote access to the safehouse workstation, which could be used as a springboard into the CIA’s cloud. He wasn’t leaving any box unchecked when it came to covering his tracks.

Stepping back into the service area, he saw Mike Haney doing an inventory of everything in the van.

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