Full Black - Brad Thor [62]
Three SEALs Harvath knew had been accused of abusing a prisoner in Iraq after the guy had thrown himself out of the back of their truck and smashed his own head against his cell wall. The SEALs were eventually exonerated, but not until after being put through a ridiculous trial and having grandstanding members of Congress suggest that all terrorist captures be videotaped via helmet cams and that they remain under video surveillance 24/7.
Harvath had a better idea. Seeing as how most of them were of little to no intelligence value, he figured he could save the U.S. government a lot of money. The United States should simply adopt a policy of no longer capturing terrorists. If we find you, you’re dead. No Gitmo. No nothing. Just dead. It would be interesting to see what ran out first—virgins in Paradise or Muslims down on earth willing to martyr themselves.
“His heart stopped, so I don’t think he’s faking it,” replied Harvath.
“Whatever it is, there’s plenty of people there who can handle it,” said the Old Man. “I need you back here double-time.”
“What’s going on?”
“Your little friend, Moonracer, has been breaking a lot of eggs.”
Harvath knew immediately who he was talking about. His little friend was a dwarf named Nicholas, who until recently had been better known to Western intelligence agencies as the Troll. He dealt in the purchase and sale of highly sensitive and often classified information used to blackmail governments and powerful individuals.
Nicholas had a way with data—both analyzing and accessing it. He had crafted countless algorithms, and one of his trading programs had been purchased by a major international financial institution. None of his legitimate clients knew his true identity. If they had, none of them would have done business with him, rightly assuming that his products contained countless trap doors.
Harvath had crossed paths with Nicholas on multiple occasions, and their relationship had moved from one of hostility to détente to friendship. Despite his stature and various peccadilloes, he was a man of amazing abilities—abilities that Harvath recognized could be of incredible value to the United States.
Nicholas had discovered Aazim’s nephew, Mansoor, and the young man’s connection to the terrorist network. Harvath wanted Nicholas to be brought inside the Carlton Group, and the Old Man had been dead set against it. He had even threatened to terminate Harvath’s contract over the issue if Harvath didn’t drop it. Harvath didn’t drop it. Nicholas was an asset and either he could be their asset, or he could be someone else’s—or worse, continue to work on his own account.
For his role in stealing classified American intelligence, Nicholas had been made an enemy of the state. The Old Man had constructed multiple conditions before he would accept Nicholas’s involvement with the Group, of which the highest and hardest was getting Nicholas pardoned.
Presented with information on Nicholas’s valuable skills and repeated cooperation with previous clandestine assignments, a closed-door meeting of the Senate Select Committee on Intelligence decided to make a recommendation in favor of his pardon to the president. The president accepted their recommendation, but the pardon came with multiple strings attached, including the surrender of certain patents and trademarks Nicholas held, the money from which would be accepted in lieu of prison time.
While Nicholas complained that “Uncle Sugar,” as he liked to call the U.S. government, was bleeding him dry, he was happy to join the Carlton Group. Because of his size, he had spent most of his life alone. He felt ennobled to be part of something bigger than himself. Moonracer was the Group call sign he’d been issued.
When the Old Man said that Nicholas was “breaking a lot of eggs,” Harvath remembered Nicholas’s warning when he had joined the Group. His type of work wasn’t pretty. Much of it was also illegal. Breaking a lot of eggs meant he was going to have to do a lot of things