Page 7 of Shadow of Doubt

In response, he delivered a series of blistering punches to the giant’s ribs, one after another. None of them seemed to have any effect.

The giant again slammed his head into the door and this time, his vision began to dim. Harvath was in serious trouble. If he didn’t get out from under this guy, it was going to be game over.

Planting his feet, he tried to thrust upward and knock the giant off balance, but the beast didn’t budge.

Instead the man pulled Harvath’s head back once more and was preparing to pound it against the door when there was a loud, metallic thud.

Dazed, the giant paused. One of the flight attendants had bashed him with a coffeepot. Harvath knew it was now or never.

Using all his strength, he exploded, pushing his attacker off him and sending the man tumbling over backward into the middle of the galley.

Harvath leapt to his feet, but he’d had his bell rung to such a degree that his balance was temporarily off. He needed to place his hand against the wall to steady himself.

Shaking his head, he tried to clear his vision. He could see the flightattendant, but the giant was no longer where he had thrown him. He was on the other side of the galley.

It took Harvath a moment to realize what the man was doing, but when he did, only one word popped into his mind—Fuck—as he bolted back into action.

The man had deactivated the safety mechanisms on the opposite emergency exit door and was about to open it, when Harvath launched himself the final few feet, landed on the giant’s back, and put him in a rear naked chokehold.

Because the man was so big, Harvath had to modify his grip, but within seconds he reduced the blood flow from the man’s heart and had cut off the oxygen to his brain. The giant collapsed unconscious onto the floor.

Loosening, but not completely unlocking the chokehold, Harvath gave instructions to the flight attendants and nearby passengers. A man this big and this unstable was going to need a lot more than a pair of plastic flex-cuffs to keep him restrained until the plane landed.

Once he had been secured, Harvath released his grasp. Moving several feet away, he rested his forearms against his knees and took several deep breaths.

As the flight crew attended to each other, as well as the injured passengers, one of them offered Harvath a bottle of water. “Thank you,” she said.

Harvath accepted the water and nodded.

When he felt good enough to stand, he got up and headed back to his seat in first class. A group of economy passengers, eager for a piece of the action now that the actual danger had passed, had deputized themselves to keep an eye on the bound passenger until the plane landed.

After a pit stop in the lavatory to verify he wasn’t bleeding, he sat back down and asked for a fresh bourbon, along with a few more icepacks.

The pilots had decided that with the giant subdued, they didn’t need to divert and would land in Oslo as planned.

With that piece of good news, Harvath settled back in his seat, focused on his drink, and tried to relax.

When the plane landed, the pilot came back over the PA system to explain that airport police would be meeting the plane at the gate and that all passengers should remain in their seats.

It took six tactical officers to remove the giant from the aircraft. The passengers clapped and cheered as he was marched off.

But no sooner had he been led away than another officer boarded. After speaking with the lead flight attendant, he entered the first-class section and stopped at Harvath’s seat.

“Passport,” he said in an officious tone, holding out his hand.

Removing the document from his pocket, Harvath handed it to him, noting the three gold stars and two stripes on the man’s epaulets. Whoever the man was, he was very high in rank.

The officer checked the name and photo, and then, looking at Harvath, ordered, “Come with me.”

CHAPTER 4

Grabbing his bag from the overhead, Harvath followed the officer, stopping briefly at the main cabin door to receive additional thanks from the flight crew.

As he and the cop deplaned, they had to step aside to allow medical personnel to board and see to the injured.

But once they had passed, the officer didn’t lead him toward the terminal. Instead, he opened the door to the jet bridge stairs and took him down to the tarmac.

The air was chilly and awash with the smell of jet fuel. Two ambulances were standing by, as was a BMW X5 crisscrossed with thick neon yellow stripes, a lightbar, and the Norwegian word for police,Politi.

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