“Is anyone close enough to see if they’re buttoned down?” he asked.
Suicide bombers were known for employing what was called a “dead man’s switch.” It was a button that when depressed armed their device. If a bomber was shot or somehow incapacitated, simply releasing the button would cause their device to detonate.
There was also the chance of a “chicken switch.” It was a fail-safe that attached the bomber’s vest to a cell phone. If the device failed to go off at the designated place and time, a handler could trigger it remotely.
The chance that either technology, and possibly both, was present made the situation much more dangerous.
“Negative,” Staelin replied. “I can’t see anything. Our target has his hands under his robe.”
“Same with ours,” said Morrison.
Except for the split second he had a weapon pointed at him, Harvath hadn’t seen the hands of the man he was chasing either.
Tackling multiple potential suicide bombers wasn’t part of this assignment. It was supposed to be surveillance of a terrorist planner, followed by a snatch and grab. Once they had him out of Black Rock City, they were to fly him to a prearranged location for interrogation. Any heavy lifting was Harvath’s responsibility. Everyone else was supposed to be support.
Harvath didn’t know much about the men he was working with, but what he did know was that they were men of honor. They did the right thing, no matter what.
“Gut check,” Harvath relayed over the radio. “If anyone wants out, now’s the time.”
“Negative,” came the replies.
Harvath laid out his plan. “Assume they’re carrying weapons. Assume they’re all wearing vests. And assume they’re buttoned down. If they come off that switch, it’s over. So when you go kinetic, you each take a hand and focus on it like a laser. Understood?”
“Roger that,” the men answered.
Haney knew Harvath was operating without a partner. That meant he was going to have an even harder job. He’d have to get his target’s hands under control by himself. “I can be to you in less than five minutes,” Haney offered.
Looking up ahead, Harvath figured out where his target was headed. It was the biggest of the luxury camps—the one die-hard Burners resented the most—called Crystal Sky.
It was packed with wealthy and powerful executives from Silicon Valley. A successful attack inside Crystal Sky would reverberate across the tech industry and feed headlines worldwide.
“Stay on the drone,” Harvath ordered. “And have Langley get word to law enforcement. If there are more of them out there, we’ve got to find them fast.”
Once Haney had confirmed, Harvath hailed Morrison and Staelin. “Your teams are clear to engage. Take them down.”
From the Crystal Sky stage, he could make out a speeded-up version of “Super Freak” by Rick James. The robed figure in front of him cut out into the crowded street and headed for the camp entrance. Two hundred yards more and he’d be inside.
Harvath had no choice. It was time to make his move.
CHAPTER 4
* * *
* * *
The biggest challenge for Harvath was making sure that the robed man didn’t see him. If he did, it would be game over. Knowing the terrorist’s target, though, gave him an advantage.
The dust storm had begun to slow. As it did, visibility continued to improve. Harvath moved though the throng, careful to stay out of the man’s line of sight.
People were being pressed tighter together as they approached the entrance. Inside the camp, it looked like a mosh pit, punctuated by glow sticks and LED jump ropes. Phosphorescent jellyfish appeared to pulse through the air above the dancing crowd.
With his eyes glued to the man, Harvath willed him to act. Show me your hands, you son of a bitch. Do it. Let me see them.
As if answering his silent prayer, the crowd suddenly surged forward and a drunk Burner bumped into the robed figure. The terrorist stumbled forward. His left hand appeared from beneath his robe. Steadying himself against the person in front of him, the man quickly returned his empty hand to hiding. That was all Harvath needed to see.
Threading himself through the crowd, he slid into position at the terrorist’s five o’clock, took a deep breath, and, ignoring the pain in his lungs, sprang.
He punched the man just behind his ear while grabbing for his right hand, which was wrapped around a switch.
Immediately, the terrorist’s legs buckled and he went down. Harvath went with him as people began to scream.
“Dead man’s switch!” he yelled into his radio so Haney and the rest of the team would know.
Landing in the dust, Harvath began elbowing the man in the face. Once the chrome faceplate cracked, he could see the man’s face. It was Rahim. He delivered two more crushing blows, shattering the man’s nose.
A handful of Burners, unaware of what was going on, tried to pull Harvath off him. He kicked one in the gut and followed up by sweeping another’s leg.
Instead of dissuading them, it only doubled their resolve to break up the fight. The idiots had no idea what they were doing.
Regrouping, they steeled themselves and moved forward. Harvath did the only thing he could.
Pulling his Sig Sauer, he fired three shots into the air. Instantly, the crowd scattered.
Rahim stirred and Harvath elbowed him again. Not knowing how much time he had, he dropped his pistol and grabbed the roll of duct tape he’d snatched.
Using his teeth to help loosen the edge of the tape, he wrapped Rahim’s hand as tight as he possibly could around the dead man’s switch. Even if the terrorist had wanted to let go of it, it would have been impossible.
Once he had it exactly as he wanted it, he wrapped the tape around several more times. Over his earpiece, he heard Staelin and then Morrison report that they had neutralized their targets.
Pulling his knife, he sliced open Rahim’s robe. It was lined with a space-blanket-like material, which was probably what had helped reduce his heat signature. His suicide vest, though, was unlike anything Harvath had ever seen. The terrorist had enough high explosive strapped to his chest to bring down an entire building.
Harvath searched for a chicken switch, but there wasn’t one. “Thank God,” he said as he relieved Rahim of his pistol and reclaimed his own.
Falling back on the ground, he took a moment to catch his breath. Then he announced, “Target neutralized.” They had done it.
The moment, though, was short-lived. His mind began swirling with all the things they had to do. Staying here would allow local law enforcement to find him. He’d lose Rahim and the terrorist would be put beyond the CIA’s reach. His assignment wasn’t done yet. He still needed to get them out of the desert and interrogate them.
“Haney,” Harvath said, pushing himself up off the ground. “I’m headed west with Rahim. Tell the plane to get ready, then grab the cart and come get us. Hurry up.”