Page 14 of Edge of Honor

But there was something about Hansen’s visit, so soon after the attacks, that bothered him. She wasn’t here to drop off a pair of sunglasses and she hadn’t come for a simple chat.

There was something more, and already Harvath didn’t like it.

CHAPTER 8

The Ambassador’s driver was also, in fact, a security agent. His name was Christoffer. Or, as he had instructed Harvath to refer to him, “Just Chris.”

As it turned out, Just Chris was only being polite earlier and appreciated that Harvath had brought a coffee out to him.

The two men stood in the driveway, leaning against the car and chatting as they enjoyed their coffee.

A consummate spy, Harvath probed in an attempt to learn more about the young man, as well as his role back at the embassy.

He came from a village of less than eight hundred people called Isebakke, along Norway’s southeastern border with Sweden. He had briefly served as an infantryman in the Norwegian Army before beginning a career in the Norwegian Police Service, when the opportunity to sign on with the Foreign Service had presented itself.

Until last night, it had been an amazing experience with nothing but upside. Having two colleagues gunned down inside the residence, however, had changed all that. Everyone back at the embassy was understandably in shock.

When the younger man shared how grateful the team was that Harvath had responded so quickly, Harvath brushed it aside. Leaning in, the young man pressed on, confiding that every single embassy employee was grateful that he had not only saved the Ambassador, but had also ended the gunman’s life.

Harvath thanked him and expressed sympathy for the loss of his colleagues.

Just Chris nodded and changed the subject as he took another sip of coffee. “It’s very peaceful here. You have all of these beautiful trees. The water. It reminds me of Isebakke.”

Harvath nodded back and was about to ask him another question when the front door opened and Sølvi and Ambassador Hansen stepped out of the house.

“Everything good?” he asked as they approached.

“Everything is excellent,” Hansen replied as she shook hands with Sølvi. “We’ll talk soon I hope.”

Sølvi nodded and said something in Norwegian. Harvath noticed that it didn’t have her normal, playful spark. It was serious. Official.

After the Ambassador said goodbye to Harvath, the young man thanked him for the coffee, and the pair got back in their car and disappeared down the drive.

Once they were out of sight, he turned to Sølvi and said, “That was a little bit of a strange goodbye. What was it all about?”

“I don’t want to talk about it standing here,” she replied.

“No problem. Where should we talk?”

“Let’s go down to the dock.”

Harvath nodded and let her lead the way.

Passing through the house, she grabbed a bottle of cold water from the fridge while he topped off his coffee. They then headed out through the French doors off the living room.

Walking in silence, they made their way down the gravel path to their long white pier. At the end was a storage box that doubled as a bench, along with a small teak table and four teak chairs.

Harvath retrieved his American flag from the storage box, ran it up the flagpole, and then sat down at the table with Sølvi.

Looking out over the water, she said, “They want me to come back.”

If there was one thing Harvath had learned in his life, it was that some conversations are ones in which your partner just wants you to listen to their troubles. In others, they want you to help them find solutions.

He wasn’t yet sure what kind of conversation this one was, so he erredon the side of caution. “Interesting,” he responded, acknowledging that he had heard her. “How do you feel about that?”

“I’m not sure. What’s that famous line fromThe Godfather?”

“Ambassador Hansen ‘made you an offer you couldn’t refuse’?”

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