Page 119 of Shadow of Doubt

Nodding at the Citroen, he said to Preisler, “Time’s a-wasting. Let’s get Vlad out.”

Opening a trunk with one prisoner inside, much less two, was a lot like opening a soda you’d left in the presence of a vindictive sibling. You never knew how explosive the result was going to be.

As seniority had its privileges, Harvath motioned for Preisler to hand him his Taser and then stood back as the junior operative popped the lid.

Thankfully, especially for Preisler, whose job it had been to properly secure the two men, nothing happened. Powell and Elovik were right where he had left them—hands and feet secured, hoods over their heads, and pieces of duct tape across their mouths underneath. Harvath had been quite clear that he didn’t want these two comparing notes and making plans for some great escape. They were no longer masters of their own destinies. Harvath, and only Harvath, would decide what happened to them.

Grabbing Elovik, who had been placed in the trunk first and was therefore farther back, Preisler dragged him across Powell and pulled him out.

Preisler then removed his knife and cut away the plastic restraints from Elovik’s ankles so that he could walk.

Guiding him to the table, he sat him down in such a way that his hands, which had been bound behind his back with flex-cuffs, were slipped over the rear of the chair.

As Preisler went to stand next to the Citroen, Harvath removed Elovik’s hood and peeled the piece of duct tape from his mouth.

The Russian didn’t speak. He just blinked as he tried to adjust his eyes to the light.

On the table was a tall plastic bottle of water and a stack of cups. “Thirsty?” Harvath asked.

Elovik nodded.

Harvath poured a cup and then held it to the Russian’s lips so he could drink. The man nodded again when he’d had enough and Harvath set the cup back on the table.

“Thank you,” the military attaché replied.

“You’re welcome,” said Harvath, keeping his demeanor relaxed.

Having control over an interrogation required, first and foremost, control over oneself. Psychologically, it was important that the Russian understand that Harvath held his fate in his hands. The outcome, good or bad, would depend on how Elovik comported himself.

“It appears Mr. Powell was happy to play us both,” the Russian offered. Looking up at the heavy steel hook hanging from the hoist, he added, “Is that meant for me?”

Harvath smiled. “That’s up to you. But to be honest, I hope it won’t be necessary. If that’s where we arrive, then this conversation has really gone off the rails.”

“Agreed,” the Russian replied, stealing one more glance at the winch. “Where would you like to start?”

“Normally, we’d be talking about your background and things like that.”

“Building rapport.”

“Exactly,” said Harvath. “Except that I’m not that interested in your background.”

“From what Powell told me, I understand you are interested in Colonel Ivan Kapralov, the commander of unit 29155.”

“That’s correct. What can you tell me?”

“Quite a bit, I would imagine. More to the point, however, I can tell you where to find him.”

“Then we’re off to a good start,” Harvath replied. “Where is he?”

This time it was Elovik’s turn to smile. “Perhaps we can first discuss what a successful outcome of this conversation looks like. Beyond us not having to employ anything suspended from the ceiling.”

“Such as?”

“Such as, what does my life look like after we’re done chatting? Do we shake hands and I return to my embassy?”

“That depends,” said Harvath. “Is that how you want this to end?”

“Maybe. What did you promise Powell?”

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