Page 69 of Edge of Honor

Bente and the remaining PST agents, as well as the rest of the Norwegian delegation, rode in the other Secret Service vehicles, while the embassy personnel returned in their own vehicle, separate from the motorcade.

It was wonderful for Sølvi to hear her mother tongue being spoken—especially with how boring and unattractive the drive was.

As they drove, she listened to the Ambassador and the Prime Minister discussing the events that had happened at the residence, as well as what they were expecting at the summit, not the least of which was the reluctance of the French and the Italians to sign on to the Sky Shield initiative. The representatives of those two countries, as well as those of Spain and Poland—who were also holdouts—would be a major focus of the PM while she was in D.C. Not only did Stang consider it a serious cornerstone of European security and a significant deterrent against Russian aggression, but it was also a matter of national pride for Norway to shepherd the remaining NATO members into the Sky Shield fold.

Sølvi appreciated that the two women were circumspect in their discussions, knowing full well they were in an American government vehicle and that their conversation, while in Norwegian, might be recorded—even by an ally.

Glancing out the passenger-side window, she watched as another section of dingy sound-attenuation wall, choked with vines, flashed by. It was followed by a stretch of overgrown woods.

The motorcade had just drawn even with it when she saw a flash and she shouted to Sorola and Miller, before repeating the same over her radio, “Contact right! Contact right! RPG!”

CHAPTER 35

Sorola took immediate and evasive action. As he jerked the wheel hard to the left, one of the RPGs passed so close that it left burn marks across their windshield.

In front of and behind them, other RPGs found their targets, slamming into Secret Service vehicles and exploding.

Careening into the median, Sorola struggled to keep the armored Tahoe from flipping over. He swerved left and right to avoid the pieces of flaming wreckage that were raining down around them. There was smoke everywhere.

Seeing a hole up ahead, Sorola gunned the engine. There was only one course of action in this scenario and that was for the Secret Service to get away from the attack and get their protectees to safety.

But no sooner had Sorola thought he found a way out than he was forced to slam on the brakes. Ahead of them was a massive pileup, and there was no way they could cut across the Metro lines and access the lanes of oncoming traffic. They were trapped and there was no telling if their attackers had more punishment in store.

While Miller and Haugen frantically worked their radios, Sølvi assessed Ambassador Hansen, Prime Minister Stang, and her chief of staff, Oppen. None of them, thankfully, was injured.

Now she had a very dangerous decision to make. The three diplomats would be safe inside the vehicle, as long as it didn’t sustain a hit from a high-explosive antitank RPG “HEAT” round or come under a prolonged attack. Eventually the armor or bulletproof glass or both would fail.

The security team needed to get out and set up a defensive perimeter. One agent, though, needed to remain inside the Tahoe as a last line of defense and to drive away if an escape route made itself available. It had to be Sorola. Miller agreed.

After formulating a plan of action, Miller made sure Haugen and Sølvi were ready to move and then gave the “Go” command.

Bailing out of the Tahoe, Sølvi stayed low and ran forward as Haugen and Miller ran to the rear of the SUV.

The acrid smoke was thick and black. Burning cars were everywhere. She couldn’t begin to imagine how many members of each delegation had been killed. The armored Suburban carrying the Dutch Prime Minister had been destroyed and none of the Norwegian PST agents, including Bente, had responded to radio calls. It was a nightmare and not yet over.

Somewhere behind them, members of the Dutch delegation in a different vehicle were trapped and at risk of being burned alive. Desperate calls were going out over the Secret Service radios for help.

Miller relayed the situation and told Sølvi and Haugen to stay with the Tahoe. He would be back as soon as he could. Then, holstering his weapon, he prepared to heroically run back into the thick of the fire and the chaos.

But the moment he stepped out from behind the armored Tahoe, a shot was fired from a very high-powered, large-caliber rifle that went right through his head like it was an overripe watermelon, killing him instantly.

“Sniper!” Haugen yelled. “In the tree line!”

Sølvi knew better than to poke her head up above the hood to try to catch a glimpse of the shooter. That was undoubtedly what he wanted—to pick off survivors. And judging by the distance to the trees, whoever he was, he was very good at his job.

It was shades of Monday’s attack all over again. If they stayed where they were, it was only a matter of time before he got them too, as well as the Prime Minister and everyone else inside the vehicle. She had to figure out a way to get to him first.

With their high fences covered in razor wire, using the Metro tracks to get a safe distance away before crossing into the woods and doubling back was out of the question. So was the path that Miller had attempted.

That left moving in the opposite direction and heading toward the pileup of cars in front of the Tahoe. In an ideal situation, Sorola would have put the SUV in gear and rolled slowly forward, providing a big, armored shield for her until she could get there. Unfortunately, this was anything but an ideal situation.

The instant the Tahoe started moving, it would attract the attention of the sniper, who would start putting rounds on it. Sølvi was going to have to make a run for it. Haugen, however, could help provide cover.

The PST agent didn’t like her plan. He felt it was too dangerous. Surely the Secret Service and local police had reinforcements on the way. Their job was to stay put and protect the Prime Minister.

Sølvi had neither the time nor the inclination to explain herself to Haugen. Her agreement with Stang was to make sure that the Secret Service didn’t screw up and, if they did anyway, to fix it.

While an RPG attack on their motorcade, followed by a secondary attack via sniper, wasn’t technically a “screwup” by the Secret Service, Sølvi intended to fix it. Sorola and Haugen would have to hold down the fort. She was going to take the fight directly to the Indians.

---