Blowback

While in the SEALs, he had earned the code name Norseman, not for his rugged good looks, which were more Germanic than Norse, or because he fought like a fearsome Viking warrior, but rather because of the long string of Scandinavian flight attendants he had dated. As he splashed some cold water on his face and examined his haggard appearance, he wondered what he would look like in two or three more years if he kept going at this pace.

The one thing that didn’t seem to belie his age was his body, a testament to how hard he worked to keep himself in top physical condition. At five foot ten, and a solid one hundred seventy-five pounds, Harvath was in better shape and carried more muscle mass now than he had at twenty-five. The only effect that aging seemed to have on his body was that the pain that came with the invariable bumps and bruises of his job seemed to linger a lot longer than it used to. While an unfortunate byproduct of the way he lived his life, pain was one of the few things he felt he could exercise some semblance of control over. He had been taught time and again in the SEALs that pain was largely psychological.

What the mind can perceive, the body can achieve-and with that mantra playing on an endless loop in his mind, Harvath had forgone everything else in pursuit of his career, which now seemed to be coming to a screeching halt.

“I’m going to ask a stupid question,” said Harvath. “Does the president know I’m being dropped?”

Anderson reached into his drawer, removed a blue folder, and slid it across the desk to Harvath. “What he knows is that you’re resigning this morning.”

“So now I’m resigning?” replied Harvath as he slid the resignation letter out and read it over.

“You really screwed up in Baghdad,” continued the chief of staff. “The president didn’t like seeing you on TV.”

“Neither did I, but there was nothing I could do about it. It was a set-up.”

“I got that much from your debriefing report.”

“So what’s the problem?”

“The problem,” replied Anderson, “is that you’ve created a firestorm with that takedown. A million and one fatwas have been issued against you, and every Muslim country on the planet wants to see you stand trial under Islamic law.”

“So?”

“So they’re not the only ones who want your head on a stake.”

“Who else does?”

“Senator Carmichael.”

“ Carmichael?” scoffed Harvath. “I’m not going to have anything to do with that woman.”

“You don’t get a say in the matter.”

“The hell I don’t.”

“Scot, I warned you about your language-”

“Chuck, give me a fucking break here, would you? We’re talking about my career. If you release my name and face to the public, not only will I never work again, I’ll be looking over my shoulder for the rest of my life. You said it yourself-a million and one fatwas have been issued against me. Every radical Muslim on the planet will be looking to book the perfect corner table in Paradise by taking me out.”

Anderson leaned forward over his desk and looked at Harvath. “You see, that’s where you’re wrong. This isn’t about you or your career. This is about the president, and I’m not about to see him go down in flames trying to cover for you-not with the election around the corner.”

“So you’re just giving me up?” replied Harvath in disbelief.

“We’re not giving you up.”

“What the hell would you call it then? Carmichael has nothing at this point. From what I’ve heard, the Iraqis rolled up that al-Jazeera crew before they could get a shot of my face. All they’ve got is the back of my head. Seems to me that’d be pretty hard for the senator to build a case on.”

“Do you think we’d be having this conversation if all Carmichael had was the back of your head? She’s got you dead to right as the person doing the takedown.”

“How? How could she possibly have me?”

“She’s been talking to a lot of people.”

Harvath’s temper was starting to get the better of him. “People like who?”

“Like everybody. She’s on the Intelligence Committee, for Christ’s sake. She has contacts all over the community.”

“Just because she’s connected doesn’t mean she’s figured out I’m the guy in that footage.”

“She has.”

“How do you know?”

Anderson took a deep breath and tried to calm everything down. “I got a call this morning.”

“ Carmichael called you?”

“No, someone else did. It was an old contact of mine-someone who’s in a position to hear things. He told me Carmichael has been asking a lot of questions about you.”

“What kind of questions?”

“She wanted to know about your time at the White House, why you left the Secret Service, and what you’ve been doing over at DHS. She even asked what the Apex Project was.”