Full Black - Brad Thor [150]
“But you don’t have a thing on me. I don’t know why you’re doing this.”
Carlton looked at Harvath and said, “Go get him.”
“Go get who?” asked Ashford as Harvath left the room.
“Shut up.”
“Reed, you and I are friends.”
The Old Man wasn’t listening to him. “What changed you, Robert? Was it money? Is that what this is all about?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Show a little character, Robert. Show some dignity. I have offered to let you disappear into retirement. Take the offer.”
“But I haven’t done anything,” the MI5 man insisted. “I don’t know any Larry Salomon. I’m not involved in these horrible terrorist attacks. All I know is that if you had one shred of proof, you’d produce it.”
As the man finished his sentence, Harvath wheeled Yaroslav Yatsko into the room in a wheelchair.
“Hello, Robert,” the Russian said.
CHAPTER 67
“You think MI5 would take his word, a former KGB operative’s, against mine? The word of a man who admits he’s in the murder-for-hire business? You’re crazier than he is!”
Carlton opened the file and showed Ashford what he had. “You two go way back. He kept very meticulous records.”
“If I did communicate with trash like this,” said the Brit, “do you honestly think I’d be stupid enough to do it with an email address that traced back to me?”
“We also have the banking information for the payments made to Mr. Yatsko.”
“Again, how stupid do you think I am?”
“And then there’s Yemen,” said the Old Man.
Suddenly, Ashford’s mask slipped. A flash of panic rippled across his face, but was quickly suppressed.
“That’s right, asshole. We’ve got you dead to rights in Yemen,” said Harvath.
Carlton closed the file and looked at the MI5 operative. “There’s no way out, Robert. There’s also no more time left on the clock. We know everything. The only reason we’re having this conversation is that I wanted to give you a way out. I’m closing the window, though. Either you accept my offer, or I have a van waiting downstairs with a team that will take you out to the country, put a bullet in your head, and plant you in a very cold and lonely piece of ground.”
Harvath had already taken Yatsko back to his room and returned. He was now watching Ashford to see what he would do. They didn’t have him dead to rights on Yemen. That had been a bluff. Harvath had been adamant that Ashford believe that the case against him was overwhelming. He lived for his career, and he needed to believe that it was over. They needed to psychologically strip him naked and convince him that the only way out was through the Old Man.
“And you give me your word that you’ll relocate me? A new identity? A new life? All of it?” said Ashford.
“The economy being what it is, you may end up recycling boxes at a Wal-Mart, but I give you my word,” said the Old Man, who gestured for Harvath to give him some water.
Harvath did as he was instructed.
“I want the person pulling your strings,” replied Carlton, as he motioned for Harvath to bring him the vial of pills from the table.
Ashford was quiet for several moments. Finally, he said, “I won’t testify. It’d be a death sentence. I’d never live to see any trial.”
“You let us worry about the trial.”
“I want money, too. If you want my help, it’s going to cost.”
“I think we should just kill him,” said Harvath.
Carlton waved him off. “I’m not changing the terms of my offer, Robert. It is a take-it-or-leave-it deal. You’re either going into the brand-new Reed Carlton witness protection program, or you’re going into a cornfield in rural New England. It’s your call.”
Once again, the MI5 operative took several moments before responding. When he did speak, he said, “Give me two of my pain pills. Actually, make it three and I’ll tell you anything you want to know.”
“I’ll consider giving you one,” said the Old Man, nodding to Harvath that it was okay to prep one, “when you