Page 4 of Shadow of Doubt

By the time he reached the front of the apartment, adrenaline was wreaking havoc on his body. His heart was pounding so hard that all he could hear was the sound of blood thrumming in his ears. His breath came in short, shallow snatches and his hands had developed a tremor. But there was a good sign—the front door was ajar.

Whoever had been in the apartment must have made the smart decision to flee. Jadot felt his pulse begin to slow.

He wiped each of his palms on his trousers, before reacclimating his grip on his weapon. There was one last thing he needed to do.

Opening the door the rest of the way with his foot, he cautiously stepped out onto the landing. There was no one there.

He strained his ears but heard no sound of footfalls on the stairs. He then glanced over the railing, gun first, but couldn’t see anyone. Perhaps the intruder was hugging the walls on the way down or had heard him coming and paused on a lower floor. All he could be certain of was that whatever the threat had been, it had passed.

Retreating into the apartment, he closed the door behind him and made sure it was locked.

Inhaling, he filled his lungs with air and stood there for a moment, willing his body to reset, before exhaling it all out.

He needed to do a thorough, top-to-bottom search of the place to make sure nothing had been taken. But because his hands were still shaking, the first thing he was going to do was pour himself a drink.

Padding down the hallway in his stocking feet, he tucked the pistol into his waistband as he entered the kitchen.

From a cabinet above the sink, he took down a bottle of bourbon and placed it, along with a glass from the dish rack, on the countertop.

He had just opened the freezer for some ice when he heard it again—a floorboard had creaked.This time right behind him.

In one fluid motion, Jadot spun while pulling his pistol, but he was a fraction of a second too late.

The last thing he saw was the tip of a climbing axe as it came crashing down into his skull.

CHAPTER 2

MONDAY

FLIGHT337

KRAKÓW TOOSLO

Scot Harvath hadn’t thought twice about splurging on a first-class ticket. He’d been through hell.

After fighting his way into an active war zone in Ukraine, rescuing an American hostage from behind enemy lines, and fighting his way back out, all he wanted was a nice, long chunk of uninterrupted recovery time. The more luxurious, the better. He had earned it.

Boarding his flight to Norway, he’d been accompanied to his seat by a flight attendant who asked what she could bring her handsome passenger before takeoff. His answer—three Ziplocs packed full of ice and a glass of bourbon.

He’d had the shit kicked out of him and could feel it from the crown of his head to the soles of his feet. His body was tattooed with bruises, his left shoulder felt like somebody had driven an ice pick through it, and his ears were still ringing.He probably needed to see a doctor.

Making himself as comfortable as possible, he placed the bags of ice where he had the most pain and then sipped his drink while the rest of the passengers boarded.

He hadn’t told anyone back at the Carlton Group where he was going. It wasn’t any of their business. If the world suddenly caught fire over the next week, he was content to let it burn. For the time being, he was out of the spy business.

Closing his eyes, he envisioned what awaited him in Norway.

Sølvi Kolstad had appeared at the lowest moment in his life and had given him a reason to live, something he hadn’t imagined would ever again be possible.

They were two shattered vessels—he broken by the murder of his wife, she abandoned by her husband because she couldn’t bear children. Yet what had felt like the end was actually the beginning, a form ofkintsugi,the Japanese art of putting pieces of pottery back together with gold. They had merged their flaws, their loneliness, and their pain to create something beautiful, something stronger. And despite their age difference, with Sølvi several years his junior, they shared a lot in common.

Harvath had been a U.S. Navy SEAL, first with the cold-weather specialists of SEAL Team Two, and then with the storied SEAL Team Six. Sølvi had also served with an elite Special Forces unit—Norway’s all-female Jegertroppen. Both of them had eventually wound up in the espionage game.

Like him, she was a highly skilled operative and had made an exceptionally good spy. In fact, Harvath was willing to admit that she was smarter and even better at it than he was. His only advantage over her was that he had been at it for longer.

Unlike him, however, when a plum leadership position had become available inside the Norwegian Intelligence Service, she had jumped at the chance.

Promoted to deputy director status, Sølvi had been placed in charge of a top-secret program critical to Norway’s survival. If the Russians ever overran their shared border, her covert unit was responsible for standing up a shadow intelligence service.

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