Foreign Influence_ A Thriller - Brad Thor [31]
Nicholas studied him. “You don’t believe I had anything to do with the bombing in Rome, do you?”
“Hell, no,” said Harvath, who turned and apologized. “I’m sorry, Father.”
“Don’t worry. He’s heard much worse than that. Haven’t you?”
The priest bowed his head slightly and backed out of the doorway. “I think I’ll give you two some time to catch up. If you need anything, please let me or one of the brothers know.”
“Thank you,” replied Harvath.
“How about some more bandwidth?” said the Troll as he tapped the laptop lying on the bed next to him.
“Patience, Nicholas. The brothers are doing the best they can with what they were able to salvage from the farmhouse.”
The little man threw his hands in the air as the priest left the room. They were covered in bandages and wrapped with gauze. “We’re in the middle of fucking nowhere and I’m all but cut off. Before the fire, I had a halfway decent uplink. Now I’m lucky to have any signal at all. Secretly, I think they prefer me cut off. I think they’re worried that if I connect back with the outside world something else might happen to me.”
“So what did happen to you?”
“A woman tried to kill me.”
“You do have an unusual proficiency for pissing people off.”
Nicholas’s face was like stone. “She was not just some woman, she was a professional. She knew exactly what she was doing.”
“She couldn’t have been that professional. You’re still alive.”
“Call it a higher power, but at the very last minute I sensed something and moved as she swung at my throat. But the real credit goes to the dogs. If they hadn’t broken through the door, I’d be dead. They’re the ones who stopped her and dragged me outside, away from the fire.”
Harvath examined the wounds a bit closer. “What did she use? A knife?”
“Straight razor.”
“Why would you let anyone near you with a straight razor?”
“I thought I could trust her. I was wrong.”
“So who was she?” asked Harvath as he pulled the thermos from his pack and offered Nicholas a cup of coffee.
“She was a courtesan,” he said, declining the coffee.
“You mean a prostitute.”
“We’re splitting hairs here. Call it what you want. She was a very expensive woman for hire, an escort.”
“How did you find her?”
“Through an agency.”
“What’s the name of this agency?” asked Harvath as he took a sip of coffee.
“I don’t know what it says on their bank statements, but to its clients it’s known as the Academy.”
“And how does it work?”
“They have an online password-protected catalog. When you see something you’re interested in, you send them a query. The director speaks with the courtesan in question and if she agrees, you set up a Skype visit as a sort of get-to-know-you session, then the price is set and the details are worked out.”
“And you’re convinced she was a professional, not just some whack job?”
The Troll shook his head. “No, she was definitely a professional.”
“What does this have to do with the bus bombing in Rome?”
“You’ve been shown the evidence of my supposed involvement?”
“I have,” said Harvath. “What can you tell me about it?”
“Someone obviously wanted to frame me. They chartered a private jet to Sicily and sent a little person with two dogs and a suitcase into a hangar. Ten minutes later, he comes out and the plane takes off. The pilots never see the meeting, but plenty of grist has been thrown into the rumor mill and a scenario starts to emerge. Add to that some Muslim men who make contact with the Cosa Nostra looking to buy explosives and why wouldn’t the authorities believe what they’re being told? The only thing is, I’m not in the arms business. I didn’t sell any explosives to some Muslim terror cell. That’s cheap and beneath me.”
It was the same thing Harvath had told the Old Man. “So the idea was to frame you and then kill you to make the frame job stick?”
“Dead or alive, as long as they could convincingly pin it on me, I assume that it meant nobody would be looking for them.”
Harvath raised his eyebrows. “And who are they?”
“I don’t know. What I do know