“On April 10, 2010, eighty-nine passengers and seven crew members boarded a Polish Air Force Tupolev TU-154 jet in Warsaw for the flight to Smolensk. On board were the President of Poland and his wife, the last surviving President of Poland in Exile during the Soviet occupation, Chief of the General Staff, as well as the Commanders of the Polish Army, the Polish Navy, the Polish Air Force, and the Polish Special Forces, President of the National Bank of Poland, eighteen members of Parliament, the Deputy Minister for National Defense, the Deputy Minister for Foreign Affairs, prominent clergy, and several relatives of victims of the Katyn massacre.”
Once again, she breathed deeply. Her eyes were damp with tears as she said, “In addition to other dignitaries, there were a handful of key aides along to make sure the trip went smoothly. One of them was my husband, Julian.
“According to the Russian reports, the aircraft tried to land in a rapidly deteriorating weather situation. There was a dense fog, which reduced visibility to less than five hundred meters. Allegedly, the plane came in dangerously low, its left wing striking a birch tree, which caused the plane to roll and crash into the woods near the airport, killing everyone on board.
“Despite their claims that it was just an accident, the Russians stonewalled the investigation at every turn, refusing to turn over the flight recorders, refusing access to the site, and refusing to produce key pieces of the wreckage.
“Only through incredible international pressure did Russia finally begin to cooperate. By then, a large portion of the Polish people believed that Russia was complicit in the crash — that it had been a massive political assassination, a decapitation strike.
“The Polish government that came to power in the aftermath of the crash was much more favorable to Russia than its predecessor. That fact is undeniable, and further supports the theory that the Russians caused the crash.
“Many people in Poland would rather close the book on the crash, to not pick at the scab, as it were. To this day, it is still a very hotly contested subject in Poland.
“That said, three years ago a different government came to power — one that does not hold Russia in such high regard. The new government decided to reopen the investigation and has gone so far as to exhume the remains of the deceased President.
“From what I have been told, traces of explosives were found on the plane’s left wing. There are some very powerful people who believe this was absolutely a plot by the Russians to weaken and destabilize Poland.”
Harvath knew the conspiracy theories were not popular in Poland and that polling ran two to one against its being anything but a crash in bad weather due to pilot error. In fact, the unit the pilots had come from had been disbanded for how poorly its members were trained, and several senior level officers had been forced to resign.
He also understood people wanted answers, especially for such a terrible, terrible tragedy. Having done presidential protection with the Secret Service, he couldn’t for the life of him understand why the Poles had packed so many extremely important, high-level government figures onto one plane. The protocol had been changed since, but it was just plain foolish from a continuity-of-government perspective.
There was nothing Harvath could say other than “I’m so sorry.”
“Thank you,” she replied.
Even if the Russians hadn’t been involved in crashing the plane and it had been an accident, they had handled the aftermath in such an atrocious fashion that he couldn’t blame her for hating them and letting that hate creep into blame for the entire thing.
There was also the possibility, no matter how remote, that the Russians had been involved in bringing the aircraft down. It wouldn’t have been the first time, and sadly, it likely wouldn’t be the last.
Taking a sip of her coffee, Monika looked away from him and out the window. “As terrible as it was,” she continued. “There was one more wound I was forced to suffer.”
Harvath had already known about her husband and the crash, but that was pretty much the extent of it. He waited for her to continue.
“I was pregnant,” she said. “We hadn’t told anyone yet. Julian and I were trying to decide what we were going to do. We had talked about my leaving the Army.
“In the end, it didn’t matter. In addition to losing my husband, I miscarried and also lost my baby.”
Harvath felt terrible for her. “Monika, I am so sorry. No one should have to go through that.”
“Apparently, I did.”
How to respond? Harvath wasn’t exactly skillful at talking about his own feelings, much less somebody else’s. The one thing he knew, though, was that if he wasn’t careful, he could very likely make things worse. He decided not to say anything, and they sat there for several more minutes, as they had in the beginning, in silence.
He watched her, turned away from him and looking out the window. He couldn’t even begin to fathom what she was feeling.
It made him realize, though, how fortunate he was to have someone back home waiting for him. It also made him wonder if he hadn’t been taking Lara for granted.
The Old Man, before he really began slipping away, had pushed him to do the right thing and marry her. He had even gone so far as to call Harvath a “dope” for not already having done so. He said it would serve him right if another man came along and swept her off her feet. And that it would be doubly poetic if it happened while Harvath was on one of his many trips abroad.
The Old Man probably had a point. In fact, if Harvath was honest with himself, there was no “probably” about it. Harvath needed to figure out what he wanted, and then act on it.
He was about to grab another cup of coffee when his radio crackled to life. It was Staelin. “We’ve got activity.”
Harvath wasn’t surprised. It would be daylight in an hour. There were countless things that needed to be done on a farm every morning. “What do you see?” he asked.
“The farmhands are jogging.”
“Jogging?”
“Yes,” said Staelin. “In formation. Military formation.”
CHAPTER 35
Harvath would have liked to have seen it for himself, but he never would have gotten there in time. Instead, he had Staelin describe, in detail, what was taking place.
Apparently, eight rather fit men had assembled outside, two abreast, and had run off in a column. Normally when runners go out in a group, it’s casual and they run in a pack. To run in formation was unusual. It suggested that structure and discipline were being imposed.
Harvath’s mind went back to what Nicholas had said about placing a deep-cover team of Spetsnaz operatives on the island. He also remembered what Nyström had said about Sparrman hiring from Eastern Europe. While the Swedes were excellent in English, he doubted they could tell a Russian from a Romanian or a Moldovan. If the GRU had a willing local, a farm would be a perfect place to hide a team of Special Forces soldiers.
Harvath told him to keep an eye on everything and that he’d be sending in Ashby and Barton soon to relieve them.
Signing off, he began formulating a plan. Eight potential Spetsnaz troops was not a fight he wanted to have. If they came out of the GRU’s unit, they were battle-tested and had seen plenty of action — most recently in places like Syria and Ukraine, if not as far back as Chechnya and Georgia.
Taking Sparrman at the farm might be too dangerous. Harvath and his team might have to snatch him on the fly, while he was in transit. That posed a whole other set of problems.
If Sparrman had been involved in Lars Lund’s accident, which Harvath had a pretty good feeling he was, then the man might be a lot more switched on than usual, paying close attention to whether he was under surveillance.