Page 49 of Edge of Honor

As Rogers had driven and Harvath had remained hidden in the trunk, Nicholas had followed at a distance. He had not seen anyone tailing them. By the time he had peeled off, they were only minutes from the Ambassador’s driveway.

After being successfully smuggled into the house, Harvath started thinking through next steps. Everything up to that point had gone according to plan. Even if someone had been watching, it would have appeared that the Ambassador had arrived alone and was inside the home, albeit with the blinds and drapes drawn.

That was a key part of Harvath’s plan. Whoever was after Rogers, they needed to believe that he would be easy to get to, that they had the upper hand, which led to Harvath’s next issue.

If the Ambassador was right and the deaths of the secretary of state and the secretary of defense had not been caused by an accident or natural causes, then what did the killers have planned for him?

Rogers was a fit guy in his fifties, training to run the Marine Corps Marathon in the fall. While it wouldn’t be out of the realm of possibilities that he too could have a heart attack, you could only have so many connected people die via the same means before people eventually got suspicious. And that was what had been nibbling at the edges of Harvath’s mind.

Were the Iranians strategic enough to realize that while dramatic attacks like car bombs and snipers would make for incredible headlines, they would only drive the rest of their targets deep into hiding?They had to know that.

Unless they could hit their targets all at once, all at the same time, they would risk spooking everyone else on their list and sending them underground. It made much more sense to take them one at a time and in a way that wouldn’t raise suspicion among the others.

That was how Harvath would have done it, and he had to believe that the Iranians were that thoughtful, as well as that clever.

So what did that mean for Rogers? If the men chasing him through Rock Creek Park were indeed assassins, what was their plan? How would they have killed him and how would they have done it in such a way that it didn’t arouse the suspicions of anyone else on their hit list?

That was the ten-thousand-dollar question. If he knew that answer, it might help him anticipate what they might have planned next for the Ambassador. But as things now stood, he had nothing. He didn’t even know if they’d show up.

Then the camera feeds had gone down. It was only a blip. They’d only gone dark for a fraction of a second, but Harvath didn’t believe in coincidences. And while he wished he had more information, he was a big believer in the saying “You go to war with the army you have, not the army you wish you had.”

The one saving grace in the entire plan, besides having Haney and McGee with him, was that even though the Secret Service hadn’t been able to talk the Ambassador into paring back his trees, they had beenable to talk him into upgrading his master bedroom closet into a safe room.

The walls and floors had been lined with ballistic fiberglass panels and the door swapped out for a high-security version with hardened locking bolts, a galvanized steel core, and a triple-reinforced metal frame. But as good as that was, it was by no means perfect.

The safe room didn’t have its own air filtration, which made it vulnerable to smoke and fire. Without any panels on the ceiling, it was also exposed to attack from above. Nevertheless, it was a hell of a lot better than just two-by-fours and a couple of layers of Sheetrock. If they needed to stick Rogers in there while they took care of business, none of them would worry for his well-being.

That was the lay of the land and this was the army they were going to war with. Now all they had to do was to wait and see if enemy forces showed up.

Serving the bone-in, dry-aged New York strip steaks and sides the Ambassador had picked up from the Capital Grille, they plated their dinners and joined Haney in the den.

They made small talk as they ate and then joked about not being able to have dessert because Mike had finished off all the Ambassador’s ice cream.

At 8:30 p.m. the alarm on McGee’s watch went off. In seven minutes, the sun would set.

Like a scene out of the postapocalyptic movieI Am Legend, the team went about securing the house. There was no telling what was out in the woods, waiting for darkness to launch its attack.

Rogers set up two pots and began brewing some of the strongest coffee he had ever made. After scraping the plates into the garbage, he placed them in the dishwasher and leaned against the counter.

“You good?” Harvath asked from the kitchen table, where he was attaching his night-vision goggles to the mount on his tactical helmet.

“As good as I think I’m going to be.”

“It’s all going to be all right. Trust me.”

Rogers looked at him. “What if nothing happens?”

“You mean tonight?”

“I mean ever. What if I was wrong? What if there is no threat and I put you guys through all of this for nothing?”

“First of all,” Harvath replied, “after what you did, you’ve got a blank check with me, so don’t even worry about it. Haney and McGee feel the same. You’re one of us and we’re going to keep you safe.

“Secondly, there’s nothing that would make me happier than to come to the conclusion that there is no active threat against you. That would be the absolute best possible outcome.

“Either way, the train has already left the station, so you might as well sit back and relax. In fact, what’s your favorite adult beverage?”

The Ambassador didn’t even need to think about it. “Bourbon,” he responded.

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