Act of War (17 page)

“The FBI Director and I met with her personally. In exchange for her cooperation, and eventual testimony, I offered to bring her back to the Treasury Department, plus give her a promotion. She hasn’t made up her mind yet, but she has begun working with us.

“What we’ve learned is that several key figures from the think tank advising the administration during the Mexican peso crisis back in the 1990s were brought in under the most recent administration to advise President Porter’s predecessor. We believe there was a second set of books being kept in relation to China. We’re attempting to locate them.”

The Secretary of State shook his head. “The lawlessness you’re suggesting is unfathomable.”

“And none of it will matter if the Chinese succeed in pulling off their attack. Which brings me to my summation. If everything we have learned is true, if the Chinese were able to get the United States to collateralize its debt obligations, and those obligations cannot be vacated—no matter what happens to the United States—then we know why the Chinese feel they’ll be able to waltz right in here after a catastrophic attack and make themselves at home.

“With a ninety percent casualty rate, America as we know it won’t even exist anymore and China will be holding the deed to the United States.

“As we talked about at the beginning, who is going to argue with them? They’ll probably even send us aid and offer humanitarian assistance. But in the end, when America cannot repay its debts, because it has collapsed, they are going to stake their claim and take what they believe is theirs. If we do not stop them, this absolutely will be the end of the United States.”

M
ARYLAND

H
arvath had flown with some absolute assholes in his day, but the U.S. Ambassador to the UAE, Leslie Conrad, was one of the worst.

U.S. ambassadors serve at the pleasure of the President. After an election or a reelection, all ambassadors submit a letter of resignation. Some are accepted immediately, usually for the plum ambassadorships, while others are asked to remain in place until a new ambassador can be chosen. Conrad was one of those asked to stay put until the President could find his replacement.

Conrad had gotten his ambassadorship by being a big bundler and raising a lot of money for the previous president. He reminded Harvath of Peter O’Toole in
Lawrence of Arabia.
In addition to being a thorough Arabist who thought he knew the region better than anyone else—along with what America’s foreign policy absolutely should be—his hair was too blond, his teeth were too white, and his skin was too tan for a man of his age and stature. Harvath chalked a certain amount of that up to his parents’ having named their male child Leslie.

It was apparent that Ambassador Conrad had not voted for the current president and didn’t think much of his foreign policy. Conrad also didn’t seem to think much of his very own duty to his country. The ambassador resented being awakened in the middle of the night to be roped into some “cloak-and-dagger circle jerk,” as he put it.

Initially, Conrad had refused to cooperate. Then the Secretary of State had gotten on the phone and chewed his ass. Even though Conrad had
done nothing of note while serving in his post, he was passionate about the Foreign Service and wanted to continue in it. The Secretary of State had used that to push his ungrateful behind out of bed, out of his villa, and into the motorcade waiting for him outside in Abu Dhabi.

Harvath and Levy had gone through Khuram Hanjour’s entire Palm Jumeirah condo and had stacked anything of potential intelligence value at the front door. Cowles packed all of it, along with the contents of the hidden bed safe, in a set of designer luggage Hanjour had in one of the guest bedrooms.

Driving Hanjour’s Mercedes out of the Oceana complex, Harvath and Levy had met up with the CIA assault team parked nearby. They transferred the luggage and traded cars while Levy handed over Hanjour’s key card and explained how to enter the building in order to retrieve Cowles and the prisoner. Harvath and Levy then set out for the ninety-mile drive up the coast to the U.S. ambassador’s residence in Abu Dhabi.

What would have normally been an hour-and-a-half drive, Harvath completed in forty-five minutes as Levy worked on her cell phone the entire way. The State Department, as well as the CIA, maintained accounts with private jet companies around the world, and with that in mind, Harvath had made two requests. He needed the fastest plane they could get, plus Ambassador Conrad’s cooperation in coming along for the ride. With a United States ambassador in tow, none of the other passports in the entourage, particularly Harvath’s, would receive additional scrutiny. That went double for their baggage.

Harvath had suggested creating a phony family emergency back in the U.S. that would require Conrad to leave the UAE immediately. But without knowing Conrad’s family situation, Harvath could make only a few general suggestions of how to handle things. Levy had taken it from there.

Levy relayed everything to her boss, Chuck Godwin—a seasoned CIA veteran—who then coordinated with CIA headquarters in the U.S. Langley pulled Conrad’s file and decided to use the ambassador’s aging mother in Carmel, California, as the source of the emergency.

After assembling the plan, CIA Director Bob McGee contacted the Secretary of State for sign-off. With the green light in place, Godwin was told to wake the ambassador.

Conrad was told that his “family emergency” would be cover for
getting a U.S. intelligence operative and some highly sensitive documents and other materials back to the United States. The ambassador had asked what the documents and other materials were, but was politely told that the information was of national security importance and classified above his clearance. Conrad asked Godwin who the intel operative was and what he had been doing in the UAE without his knowledge, only to be told that was also classified above his clearance. That was when Conrad had lost it.

The best term Chuck Godwin could come up with to describe it was “hissy fit.” The ambassador was incensed that a covert operation had been carried out in his backyard without his approval. He didn’t like being kept in the dark. And not only had he been kept in the dark, but now the CIA wanted to rope him in as cover to help get whatever they had out of the country. He announced that he was not only “personally and professionally insulted,” but had no intention of cooperating.

Chuck Godwin hated the ambassador’s guts. He was a feckless dilettante who had bought his way into the ambassadorship and was doing it only because of his love of parties, not love of country. In his estimation, the ambassador was worthless.

So when Conrad pushed back on helping to provide cover for Harvath and transporting the luggage as his own, Godwin simply thanked him, stepped out of the room, and called the seventh floor back at Langley. Three minutes later, the Secretary of State himself had called the ambassador’s home and begun to read him the riot act. Within a half hour, Conrad was in his armored Suburban headed to the airport. Harvath was there, too, riding shotgun and posing as part of the ambassador’s security detail. Wherever the bags went, Harvath was going. He had been instructed not to take his eyes off them.

Conrad’s staff alerted the Emiratis to the ambassador’s family emergency, and the convoy was met at the airport by an Emirati official who sped them right out to the tarmac and their waiting Gulfstream G650. The passports were handled planeside and every courtesy was extended to the ambassador and his retinue.

When the crew offered to stow the luggage in the belly of the plane, Harvath explained that the ambassador preferred to have access to his
bags during the flight. The crew explained where the luggage could be stored in the cabin and helped carry it up the stairs and into the aircraft.

The ultra-high-speed, ultra-long-range G650 was considered the gold standard of business jets. The wide, fold-flat, first-class-style seats as well as the walls were wrapped in white leather. The tables, cabinets, trim, and doors were bird’s-eye maple. The thick, café-mocha-colored carpet sported a motif that looked like lines drawn with twigs in wet sand. The cabin had one divan that folded flat into a nice-sized bed. The ambassador made a beeline straight for it. Harvath and the other three passengers picked the remaining chairs and settled in.

Though Harvath had locked the zippers of the luggage with the TamperTell seals provided by Chuck Godwin, he knew you could still pierce a zipper seam with a ballpoint pen, get into the bag, look around, and zip the seam back together with no one the wiser. He didn’t think the ambassador would be that vindictive, or that stupid, but he didn’t know for sure.

His concern caused him to sleep fitfully, waking every time he heard something unusual, or sensed someone was near the luggage. It made for a long flight.

In the ultimate twist, Ambassador Conrad’s fold-out bed was right next to the main lavatory. Every time his assistant or one of his security team passed by to go to the bathroom, it woke him up and Conrad shot them angry looks.

Harvath had no idea if the man thought he deserved to have the bathroom all to himself and everyone else should use the crew lav up front, or if he just resented people traipsing through “his space.” He figured it was probably a little bit of both and took a perverse pleasure in seeing the ambassador being awakened each time nature called.

Listening to how he talked to his people, Harvath could see the guy was a bully. He had always hated bullies. He was glad he didn’t have to work for the ambassador.

Conrad, though, didn’t seem to realize or care that Harvath didn’t work for him. When Harvath got up to use the restroom, the ambassador stopped him and proceeded to dress him down. “You’re a pretty smug guy, aren’t you?”

“Excuse me, sir?” Harvath replied.

“You heard me,” the ambassador snapped. “You’re a pretty smug SOB, aren’t you? Who do you think you are?”

Harvath didn’t care for the man’s tone, but he kept his temper in check. “Mr. Ambassador,” he said politely, “if you prefer I use the forward crew lav, I don’t think they’ll mind.”

“
If you prefer I use the forward crew lav
,” the man mocked. “This isn’t about the fucking lavatory. This is about you coming into my country and operating completely unauthorized.”

“I wasn’t aware that the UAE was
your
country, or that you were the only one allowed to authorize operations there.”

“Don’t get cute with me. You know what I’m talking about. You violated protocol.”

Protocol
. Harvath shook his head. “I’m just catching a ride back to the States, Mr. Ambassador. That’s all.”

“Bullshit,” Conrad spat. “I want to know what you’ve been up to.”

“Shopping, sir.”

“
Shopping
, my ass. You think I don’t know people? You think I can’t make your piece-of-shit life difficult?”

“I am sure you could, sir,” Harvath replied.

“Who are you to have me dragged out of bed in the middle of the night?” he demanded.

As he moved to the side a bit, Harvath noticed the drink caddy next to his bed. Someone had been getting into the bourbon.

“I’m no one, Mr. Ambassador,” Harvath said as he proceeded to the lavatory.

As he reached for the knob, the ambassador grabbed his wrist.
Bad move
.

“I want some straight answers,” Conrad ordered. “Do you understand me?”

Harvath’s eyes flicked to the nearest member of the ambassador’s security team. The man was pretending to be asleep, but he was watching the whole thing. Harvath shook his head as if to say
stay out of this
. The man acknowledged by rolling over in his seat to face the window.

In a flash, Harvath had slipped the ambassador’s boozy grasp and now
had him in a wristlock. Applying pressure, Harvath sat down on the edge of the bed and looked him square in the eye.

The ambassador grimaced in pain.

“Let me make one thing perfectly clear,” said Harvath. “I don’t work for you. If I show up in your country unannounced, it’s because someone a lot more important than you is very worried about something. Does that make sense?”

Conrad was about to sneer at him until Harvath applied more pressure to the man’s wrist. The ambassador started nodding like his head was on a spring. “It does. It does,” he repeated.

Harvath eased up on the pressure. “Now, I know you’ve already been told this, but I’m going to repeat it. What I was doing in the UAE is none of your business. Do you understand that?”

The ambassador glared at him until Harvath made ready to press his wrist again.

“I understand,” said Conrad. “Totally.”

“Good,” Harvath replied. “One more thing. You are an insult to the people you are supposed to be leading. In fact, you’re an insult to anyone who has ever chosen a career of service to the United States. There are a lot of people out there risking a hell of a lot more than you to keep our country safe. When you insult the people working for you, you’re insulting all of us.

“We do what we do because we believe in something outside ourselves; something bigger. If you’re lucky enough to stay in the Foreign Service, and you ever get asked again to help a fellow American, your only answer is going to be
yes
. Do you understand me? Because that’s your
fucking
job. Not throwing parties, not riding camels, not rubbing elbows with oil-soaked sheiks just so you have some cool pictures to show off. Your job is about serving the nation,
our
nation. Got it?”

Harvath cranked down on his wrist to drive the point home and the ambassador nodded even faster as tears formed at the corners of his eyes from the pain.

Standing up from the bed, Harvath prepared to let go of the man’s wrist, but stopped. “By the way,” he added. “If I ever hear of you bullying any of your staff ever again, Leslie, I’m going to come find you
and I’m going to tear both of your arms out of their sockets. Are we clear?”

The man kept nodding until Harvath let go of his wrist.