Full Black - Brad Thor [41]
Chase wouldn’t communicate his message until he saw the car parked on the street with the book, so Harvath gathered up his groceries and continued down the block.
At the end of the street he turned the corner and walked three blocks. In a weed-choked parking area sat a large panel truck covered with graffiti. Six serious-looking, extremely fit men in matching blue T-shirts and jeans stood talking. Alongside their truck, they looked like a team of movers, which was exactly what Harvath wanted people to believe.
As he got nearer, Harvath could see that though they appeared casual, their eyes were constantly scanning the area, taking nothing for granted. The Old Man had put the assault team together himself and they were true professionals, loaded for bear and ready for anything.
The team leader was a former U.S. Special Forces soldier who then spent several years with the CIA’s “Special Activities Division” before being transferred up to the paramilitary “Special Operations Group” composed of ex–DevGru SEALS and CAG operators. He was a tall man with a fishhook-shaped scar on his left cheek. His name was Schiller and he was only a year older than Harvath.
Once the plan for raiding the safe house had been hatched, Schiller had been the one to find the truck. Inside were cardboard boxes filled with the assault team’s gear. Posing as a Swedish moving company, they would unload the boxes onto dollies and wheel them into the building. Once inside, they would unpack the weapons, radios, Swedish Security Service uniforms, helmets, and body armor, and suit up.
For a job like this, it was customary to have at least two to three times as many men as they had. Ideally, you’d also have a surveillance team watching the apartment from somewhere close by. One operator would watch the front of the building while another watched the back and a third stayed behind the wheel of the truck. On the perimeter an additional operator would be in charge of communications. Inside, the teams would post men in the stairwells and at the elevator. Finally, there would be the assault team itself, which would be in charge of actually hitting the apartment. That was how it was done on your own turf or in a cooperative assignment with a foreign government. But because the Swedes had no idea that the Americans were operating within their territory, they’d had to remain lean.
As someone who never asked people to do what he wouldn’t do, and as someone who always wanted to be the first through the door, Harvath had wanted to lead the team inside. Schiller, though, had been against it.
Harvath was in charge of the operation and thought about pulling rank, but instead he took a deep breath and stood down. The assaulters were Schiller’s men. There could be almost a telepathic bond on assault teams. They instinctively knew where each other would be and what each would do at every minute. Harvath understood not to take it personally. He hadn’t trained with them. He couldn’t blame Schiller or his assaulters for not wanting to compromise the integrity of their team.
Without Riley, they numbered seven, total. Schiller wanted Harvath to stay outside and watch the rear of the building while one of his assaulters stayed with the truck in front. The apartment complex backed up to a large wooded area where a cell member could disappear quickly.
It was a good idea, but it wasn’t perfect. None of Schiller’s men spoke Swedish—not even any of the bad words. Sitting in the truck might result in some sort of interaction with someone from the neighborhood. Therefore, this time Harvath asserted his authority and stated that he’d remain in front with the truck while one of Schiller’s men watched the back and coordinated the radio communications.
Schiller agreed and threw Harvath an extra blue