Full Black - Brad Thor [122]
“Where?”
“Second floor.”
Harvath was already out of his car and heading for the nearest stairwell as Nicholas gave him the precise location of the car.
“Is the license plate a match?” he asked as he opened the stairwell door.
“I can’t see it. I can’t even get a partial.”
“Is he in the car or has he already gotten out?”
Nicholas took a moment and then replied. “Unless he’s taking a nap, the car appears to be empty.”
“Find him. Check all the other cameras. Roll back the footage. Do whatever you have to do.”
“We’re working on accessing the recorded footage now.”
“And make sure nobody moves in on Sarhan or any of his people unless I say so,” said Harvath.
“That may be a problem.”
Harvath was about to open the door to the second level. “What do you mean, that may be a problem?”
“DHS told Carlton that they appreciate the tip, but that this is their jurisdiction and we don’t have any authority.”
“Damn it,” he replied. “They’re going to mess this whole thing up. Do they know I’m the person in the field?”
“No. Carlton didn’t want to reveal that.”
Harvath didn’t know that it would make any difference. It had been over two years since he’d worked for DHS and there was a completely new secretary in place now. He wouldn’t care that some former DHS employee was tracking a team of would-be terrorists. If his people could pinch them before anything happened, he’d rack up truckloads of brownie points with the press, the public, and especially the White House. Harvath should have seen that coming. In the wake of so many successful attacks on U.S. soil, DHS needed a win. Though he wanted to believe they’d do the right thing, too often it was the political thing, the thing that would play well for public relations, that was chosen.
“Did they tell you where they were on the shift change?”
“Negative,” said Nicholas.
“Damn it,” Harvath repeated as he got ready to open the door. “Tell the Old Man that he needs to find a way to work this out. Somebody, somewhere, owes him a favor. If DHS jumps the gun, they could blow this entire operation.”
“I’m sure he’s doing everything he can.”
Harvath opened the door and stepped onto the second level. “Where are the other vehicles?” he said quietly.
“The first one is about two blocks away.”
“Okay, let’s keep chatter to a minimum until—”
“Got him,” interrupted Nicholas.
“Sarhan? Where?”
“He got out of his vehicle, all right, but he didn’t walk toward any of the exits. He walked to the northeast corner of the structure.”
“Did he get in another car?” asked Harvath.
“Negative.”
“Do you have him on any of the cameras?”
“Negative,” replied Nicholas. “Not at present.”
“Roger that,” said Harvath as he approached the parking stall with the blue Nissan. Checking the plate, he relayed the numbers back to Nicholas.
“That’s it.”
Harvath slipped his hand into his pocket and withdrew what looked like a threaded screw. It was a tool a spook buddy of his had designed and had given away to his friends in the community as a Christmas present. Foreign intelligence agents overseas had long been known to drive nails or screws into the tires of Americans they suspected of conducting espionage. Harvath’s buddy had seen it happen on more than one occasion and had decided to take the tactic to the next level. Employing a pal who was a machinist, he had him fabricate a screw with a hollow shaft and a small opening at the top and the bottom. In essence, it was an inch-long spike that relieved a tire of its air very quickly.
He eyeballed the interior of the vehicle, scanning for any sign of what Sarhan might be up to. “Did he have any bags with him?” he asked.
“Negative,” Nicholas replied. “Just what looked like a zippered case for a small laptop or an iPad maybe.”
“Keep looking for him.”
Choosing the tire he wanted, Harvath leaned over, jabbed in the screw, and kept walking.
If Sarhan hadn’t come to catch a flight or to switch vehicles, there was only one other reason, based on what Harvath had