Foreign Influence_ A Thriller - Brad Thor [47]
“I’ve got a name,” he said as he connected the call and raised the phone to his ear.
“You’ve got to get out of there,” said the Troll. “I just learned the entire hotel is wired. The new owner is a blackmailer. He’s got mics and cameras in every room.”
“But I swept the room when I got in,” said Harvath.
“As does every guest who knows even a little bit about security. This is all new equipment they’re using. You’ve been blown. There is a security team about to kick down your door. Get out of there now!”
CHAPTER 21
Harvath heard the soft click of his door being opened and tightened his grip around Leveque’s throat. Quietly, he pulled the concierge to his feet. He then got behind him and, placing his pistol in the small of the man’s back, clamped his left hand down around Leveque’s mouth.
If the luxurious lobby was an indication of the “money is no object” approach of the hotel’s billionaire owner, Harvath had to assume his security team was going to be top-notch as well. Any hope that they might be nothing more than sides of beef in dark suits was dashed when they chose to enter his room quietly instead of breaking down the door.
Harvath assumed the men now entering his room were very well trained, either former FSB operatives, or Spetsnaz—Russian special operations soldiers.
He had his answer the minute they stepped all the way into his room. Their weapons were drawn, but they weren’t in any tactical formation. At worst, these were FSB. At best, they actually were slabs of beef in dark suits. In the end, it didn’t matter. Harvath was the only person with any cover. Whether he’d agree or not, the concierge was earning his $1,000 tip.
The only weapon Harvath had was his Glock. The three security operatives facing him all had ear pieces and he assumed they were getting a play-by-play from someone somewhere in the hotel who was watching via their hidden-camera system.
“Put the gun down,” said the lead security agent in heavily accented English. “Now.”
Harvath kept Leveque between him and the three Russians at all times as he shuffled toward his backpack. If he could get to it, he might have a chance of getting out of this.
“Stop moving and put gun down!,” the same man yelled.
Harvath talked as he moved, careful to remain hidden behind Leveque. He doubted any of these apes could get him with a headshot, but he didn’t want today to be the day one of them got lucky. “Listen, I don’t want any trouble.”
“Stop and put gun down now or we shoot.”
That made three warnings. Harvath doubted there would be a fourth. Tucking his Glock in the back of Leveque’s waistband, he removed his cell phone, flipped it open, and held it up so the security men could see it. “I have a bomb.”
The lead security man laughed. “There is no bomb.”
Lowering the phone, Harvath slid it back into his pocket. As he drew his Glock he shoved Leveque at the security team and said, “You’re right.”
His first two shots kneecapped the lead security agent. Hitting the floor, he rolled to the right and drilled the second agent in the hand and the third in the shoulder. With Leveque in their way, none of the Russians were able to fire. Harvath gave a small prayer of thanks that they were professional. Had they been strictly gangster muscle, they would have filled the room with lead and sorted out the dead once the smoke cleared.
Grabbing his pack, Harvath charged for the door. He fished a Guardian Protective Devices pop-and-drop pepper fog canister and activated it in the hallway before running to the stairs.
He knew that his every move was being watched and that the rest of the security team was being activated. They would know exactly where he was and, because this was their home turf, exactly how to get to him. The only thing he could do was put as many obstacles in their path as possible. And the best way to do that was to activate the fire