No sooner had he pinned on the new button than the DHS team made an abrupt left turn and took him toward a completely different part of the train station.
CHAPTER 51
Amtrak’s ClubAcela lounge had been turned into a high-security, makeshift holding area. There were no windows, it had its own bathrooms, and its limited exits were all covered by heavily armed agents in black tactical gear like those who had shown up to collect him at his house. Harvath looked, but didn’t recognize any of them.
DHS, like every other Federal agency, was a mixed bag of the good, the bad, and the indifferent. He was certain that these men had no idea what Main Core was and the unwitting role they were playing in its implementation. The fact that they were even still at their posts as the virus raged around them spoke volumes about their dedication and professionalism.
After being checked in at the front desk, Harvath was told to help himself to food, water, or coffee. When the train was ready, an announcement would be made. Harvath asked when that might be and of course, the response was “I don’t know.”
He poured himself a cup of coffee and slowly took in the room. Everyone else was wearing the same gold stars. There were a few women, but the crowd was predominantly male. Some were chatting and seemed to know each other. Others seemed to want to keep to themselves. There was a wide range of ages and colors. Harvath found Chief Justice Cameron Leascht toward the back, reading a newspaper, one of the ones trying to keep to himself.
“Judge Leascht?” Harvath asked as he approached.
The man folded the corner of his paper down long enough to examine the stranger, before returning to his article.
Harvath took the seat next to him. “Director McGee sent me.”
Slowly, he turned his head and looked at Harvath.
“Mrs. Leascht called him as soon as you were taken away.”
“Is that so?”
“Yes, sir.”
“How do I know that you aren’t part of all this?” Leascht asked, pointing at the room with his chin.
“You don’t. You’re going to have to trust me.”
“And why should I trust you?”
“For two reasons,” Harvath replied. “One, it’s my people who discovered the Main Core list McGee warned you about. And two, Mrs. Leascht is waiting for you nearby, and I’m going to get you out of here.”
He now had the judge’s full attention. “Where are we going?”
“Where I wish you would have gone to begin with. Camp Peary.”
The Chief Justice put his paper down. “What’s the plan?”
Harvath was silent for a moment. “We’re still working on it, but when I say it’s time to go, stick close and do everything I tell you.”
The judge began laughing.
“What?” Harvath asked.
“For the last several hours, I’ve been kicking myself for not listening to Bob McGee and praying for the Cavalry to come. But as I pictured them bursting through those doors, ‘We’re still working on the plan’ wasn’t what I thought they’d say.”
Harvath instantly liked Leascht. “What would you want them to say?”
“I don’t know,” the judge replied. “Something from the movies like ‘Navy SEALs, we’re here to get you out.’ ”
Now it was Harvath’s turn to laugh.
“What?” Leascht asked.
Harvath winked at him.
“You’re a SEAL?”
“And I’m here to get you out. By the way, that movie was filled with inaccuracies.”
“What was wrong with it?”
“For starters, SEALs are much better looking.”
Leascht smiled and Harvath was glad that he had kept his sense of humor. Extracting a panic-stricken hostage was a nightmare. If the Chief Justice could continue to keep his spirits up and along with them, his wits, then that would help tilt the odds in their favor.
The judge hadn’t eaten, so Harvath prepared a plate of sandwiches and returned with a couple bottles of water. As he ate, Harvath filled him in on everything they had learned so far.
“Salus populi suprema lex esto,” Leascht said. “Cicero. The good of the people should be the supreme law.”
“Inter arma enim silent leges,” Harvath replied, reciting a familiar Latin phrase. “In times of violence, the law falls mute.”
Leascht shook his head. “In times of violence, the law remains mute. Silence too often helps give rise to violence. As Dietrich Bonhoeffer said, ‘Silence in the face of evil is itself evil. Not to speak is to speak. Not to act is to act.’ ”
Harvath was about to reply, when the overhead speaker crackled to life and the “Gold Stars” were alerted to the departure of their train.
Harvath looked at Judge Leascht. “It’s time to act.”
Moving down the platform, Harvath’s head was on a swivel. He took in the position of every guard, every would-be passenger.
Some passengers seemed unconcerned about what might await them and continued to chat amiably. Others shuffled slowly, subconsciously resigned to what could lay ahead.
He counted the columns as they passed each one by. It was the correct platform, so it should be any moment now.
As he caught sight of the designated column, Harvath began to slow. He bent at the waist as if he was in pain.
“Are you okay?” Judge Leascht asked.
“Get ready,” Harvath said. “Stay behind me. Move when I move.”
Leascht nodded.
Nearing the column, Harvath made ready. Anywhere else, he would have felt like he had this under control. Headshots. Pop them and drop them. But not here, not DHS officers. They were not his enemy. These were good men and women just doing their job. Linda Landon, though, was another story. He would have no compunction about killing her. He’d kill her and Pierre Damien in a heartbeat, but none of these officers deserved to die. He hoped they felt the same way about him.
Reaching the designated column, Harvath paused, feigning nausea. He leaned against a garbage can, pushed back its flap, and prepared to get sick. The judge put a comforting hand on his back.
As soon as Harvath’s fingers touched the inside of the lid, he swore. Where was the rest of it? He was supposed to exfil the Chief Justice of the United States Supreme Court with only two smoke grenades? There had to be more.
Dropping his hands, he realized the weapon he had requested was sitting right there, beneath a layer of newspaper. It was inside a styrofoam take-out container along with four loaded magazines.
He shoved the spare mags into his pocket and charged the weapon. He counted at least six uniformed DHS agents and four tactical officers along the platform.
Looking up at the judge, he said, “Ready?”
“Ready,” Leascht replied.
Pulling the pins from the smoke grenades, Harvath tossed them in opposite directions and then leapt off the platform onto the tracks. Leascht was right behind him. He was much older than Harvath, but he moved fast enough.
They jumped onto the next platform and into a waiting train. Activating the emergency switch on the opposite doors, Harvath helped Leascht down onto the track area, and they kept moving.
Over the noise of the trains, he could hear men shouting. They were somewhere behind them and closing.
Harvath and Leascht crossed another platform and then another. When they came to the next train, they got on. But instead of opening up the opposite doors and jumping down again, they moved through the cars, parallel to the tracks.
Harvath removed his coat and had Leascht do the same, stuffing them down into a garbage can. He untucked his shirt to help hide his weapon.
Bursting into the next car, Harvath surprised two Amtrak cops who were doing a sweep. Their guns came out just as fast as his did.