Page 9 of Shadow of Doubt

After throwing his bag in the cargo area, he hopped into the front passenger seat and they drove out of the airport.

“Safe to talk now?” he asked, checking his side mirror as they got onto the pine-studded A10 highway, which led into the city.

“I want to save the shop talk until we’re back at the office.”

Interesting,he thought as he nodded in response and took a sip of his coffee.

When Hayes had indicated her reluctance to speak because the VIP private jet suite might be bugged, that hadn’t been surprising. Corporate espionage, even among allied nations, was big business. The French and Israelis, some of the worst offenders, were even said to bug the business and first-class sections of their national airlines.

But the fact that she didn’t even want to speak in a moving U.S. Embassy vehicle was significant. Whatever this was, it was serious. Very serious.

CHAPTER 5

Tilting his seat back, Harvath had tried, without much luck, to get comfortable, and they had passed the rest of the drive making small talk.

Hayes was a fascinating woman. She was exceedingly bright and exceedingly ambitious. In an arena still dominated by the old boys’ network, she had carved out quite a career for herself. She had even come to the president’s attention and there was talk of her jumping from CIA to the State Department for an ambassadorship after the next election.

He also knew that Sølvi really admired her—especially as Hayes had succeeded despite her good looks, not because of them. No one had given her anything. She’d had to fight for every single thing that she had achieved.

Arriving at the ten-acre embassy campus, Harvath was reminded of the attention to detail that had gone into its design. Horizontal roofs were meant to honor traditional Norwegian longhouses, while boulders placed throughout mimicked the landscape of the Norwegian fjords. The most impressive design element, however, was the copper cornices, which were identical to the copper used for the Statue of Liberty, which was also mined in Norway. The entire project was a testament to the enduring friendship between the two nations.

Hayes badged Harvath in and after leaving his bag in her office, they headed for the sensitive compartmented information facility, also known as the SCIF. It was an ultra-secure room, about the size and shape of a shipping container, designed to foil all manner of high-tech eavesdropping. As such, they were required to leave their cell phones in a cubby outside.

Once in the SCIF, with the door securely closed behind them, the CIA station chief pulled out the chair at the head of the conference table. Harvath took the chair to her right.

“You did an exceptional job in Ukraine. Langley, the White House… everyone’s very happy.”

“Good. That’s what I’m paid for,” he replied, following up with the first of many questions he had. “What was all of that back at the airport? Why pick me up? In fact, how’d you even know I was going to be on that flight?”

Hayes smiled. “I’m CIA.”

“Don’t jerk me around, Holidae. I’m not in the mood. Not today. Okay?”

“Fair enough,” she responded. “I apologize.”

“So what happened? The pilots called in the disturbance, the Norwegians ran the manifest, and what? They contacted the embassy to let you all know there was at least one Amcit on board?”

The station chief shook her head. “I wasn’t aware of the disturbance until I got to the airport and Chief Inspector Borger filled me in. He was the officer who escorted you off the plane and got your customs and immigration expedited for me.”

Now Harvath was even more confused. “If you didn’t show up because of what happened during the flight, what were you doing there?”

“I needed to see you before you saw Sølvi.”

In the back of his mind, alarm bells began to go off. “Holidae, if you’ve got something to tell me,tellme.”

Hayes took a breath and cut to the chase. “The Norwegians have a Russian defector. Came across a couple of days ago. Sølvi’s in charge of him.”

“I know.”

She looked at him. “You know?”

“Yeah. She told me.”

“What else did she tell you?”

“Nothing else. It’s none of my business.”

Hayes removed a folder and pushed it across the table to him. “His name is Leonid Grechko,” she said as Harvath opened the man’s jacketand began flipping through it. “High-ranking operative in Russia’s Foreign Intelligence Service. He was in charge of their Active Measures Department. His job was to shape world events via political warfare. Espionage, sabotage, assassination, propaganda… he had every conceivable tool in his toolbox and he used them all. With a frightening level of precision.”

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