Page 6 of Shadow of Doubt

Before he could get to the galley, another flight attendant, this time a male, was struck with a devastating punch to the head and knocked to the floor.

Two passengers decided it was finally time to do something and, leaping from their seats, charged the tattooed combatant… with blankets.

Blankets? For what? To tie him up? To throw them over his head so he couldn’t see?

The only thing Harvath knew was that as brave as these paunchy, middle-aged guys were, they were going to get their asses kicked.Bad.

And he was right.

As soon as they entered the galley, the giant shoved the remaining flight attendants aside and kicked the first of the middle-aged men square in the chest. The blow knocked the wind out of the man, cracked his sternum, and dropped him right there.

The second man received one of the worst headbutts Harvath had ever seen. The blood gushed from his nose like a hydrant. As he blacked out and fell backward, he hit his head on the way down,hard.

It was at that moment, scanning for additional threats, that the monster locked eyes with Harvath. He paused, sizing him up.

Harvath stood five foot ten and a muscular 175 pounds. Though the giant outweighed and towered over him, he radiated the unnerving, icy calm of a man conversant with violence.

He put his left hand up and attempted to deescalate the situation. “Hey, it’s okay. Let’s just take a breath. Nobody else needs to get hurt.”

With his nostrils flaring and the whites of his eyes exposed, the giant resembled some sort of enraged bull. His chest heaved as he sucked in air.

It was hard to tell if he spoke English or if he even understood what Harvath was saying. Right now, though, he wasn’t attacking anyone. He was standing completely still. That was the right start.

“Do you want to sit down?” Harvath asked. “I’ll sit with you. Any place you want. How does that sound?”

There was a grunt from the heavily tattooed man as he balled his massive hands into fists. Things were going in the wrong direction.

Harvath remained calm and continued to try to dial down the situation. This wasn’t a hijacking. It was a troubled individual having some sort of a psychotic break. “Is there someone waiting for you in Oslo?” he inquired. “Someone you’d like to talk to? Your wife? Girlfriend?”

The man’s eyes narrowed and before he had even started moving, Harvath knew that he had crossed some sort of line. He had screwed up and triggered the guy into action.It was on.

Exploding across the galley, the giant charged. And when he did, Harvath was already two steps ahead.

Pivoting out of the way, he used the makeshift baton to deliver a strike to the man’s kidney.

The giant roared in pain. His knees buckled and he almost went down.Almost.Breaking his fall with his right hand, he pushed off the floor and lunged again.

Harvath waited until he got in close, threw his left hand toward the man’s eyes, and then drove the baton into his solar plexus. The giant stumbled.

Sidestepping out of his path, Harvath was certain the tattooed man was goingallthe way down this time, but he was mistaken. The giant regrouped and came at him again.

Even for a wide-body jet, the galley made for one of the world’s narrowest cage matches. Harvath wasn’t going to be able to keep slipping out of the man’s grasp like this. If the giant took him down to the ground, things were going to get ugly.

He had no choice but to increase the pain he was subjecting the man to; to deliver a blow that wasn’t fatal, but that was serious enough to take him out of the fight, at least until they could get the plane safely on the ground. With a guy this big, that usually meant one thing—going for his knees.

To do that, however, he was going to have to square up with him; stand face-to-face as he charged, which was exactly what Harvath did.

The giant thundered across the galley. Harvath held his hands up, palms out, as if signaling he didn’t want any trouble. Simultaneously, hefocused on the man’s left knee and got ready to deliver a kick so hard, the man wouldn’t be able to walk without assistance for a long time.

But just as the giant got in range, he changed his attack. He lowered his head and bent over at the waist, as if to tackle his opponent, making it impossible to take out his knee. Harvath barely had time to react.

He knew he had to be ready to shoot his hips forward and drive his legs backward, out of the way, in order to prevent being taken down to the ground. It was a defensive technique known as a “sprawl.” The only problem was, Harvath had totally misread what his attacker was planning.

The giant wasn’t interested in taking out his legs. Instead, he wanted to use his upper body to hit Harvath, as hard as he could, right in his midsection. Which was exactly what he did.

It was like being struck by a freight train. Harvath was lifted off his feet and driven full-force into the emergency exit. But the giant didn’t stop there.

Using his meaty palm, he slammed Harvath’s head against the door. Harvath saw stars.

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