Harvath would need to identify the best possible location, as well as the best possible circumstances under which to grab him — all with having little to no surveillance on him.
This, of course, presupposed that Sparrman even left the farm at all. If he didn’t, if he was under the weather or was just some sort of recluse, Harvath was going to need to come up with a plan to go in and yank him out.
And no matter which route he took, Harvath would have to make his move before the window closed and Nyström set up his own surveillance and actively took over the case. He had only thirty-six hours left.
But the more Harvath studied the situation, the more problems he saw staring back at him. He wasn’t exactly being pummeled by the good idea fairy. It was going to be a long day.
Surveillance, like a lot of the work performed in the intelligence game, involved long periods of extreme boredom. The Sparrman farm assignment was a textbook case.
With the sunrise, Ashby and Barton had been able to provide Harvath with the makes, models, and colors of the vehicles parked at the entrance of the property. None were any shade of olive.
Other than that, no useful intelligence was produced. Nobody visited the farm. Nobody left the farm.
By late afternoon, Harvath and Haney were debating the risks of doing another, more aggressive drone flight. Harvath had already begun fleshing out an assault on the farm and needed more information to help plan their approach. They decided to wait until dark and then go out to check on the surveillance team.
When the time came, they filled a thermos they had found in the kitchen with hot coffee and headed out to the minivan. The Camry was with the surveillance team in case Sparrman left the property and offered an opportunity to be followed.
They all knew what Sparrman looked like. A Gotland newspaper had done an article about the farm two years ago and had run his picture with it. Harvath had made sure that everyone downloaded a copy to their phone.
There had been sporadic sightings of him throughout the day. His shock of almost orange hair was unmistakable. Sloane had started calling him the “Ginja Ninja.”
“Tomorrow’s Sunday,” mused Haney, as he turned left onto the main road. “What are the chances the guy hops in his car to go meet up with his mom for church?”
“Church. Brunch. Paddle boarding. All we would need is an opening,” answered Harvath. “But our forty-eight hours expires tomorrow night.”
“Do you think that Nyström guy is going to start right up? Maybe he’ll wait until Monday.”
“And if he doesn’t?”
“Good point,” replied Haney. He, like Harvath, knew that as soon as the police took over, it would be extremely difficult to grab Sparrman.
Tonight was going to have to be the night. Harvath had already resigned himself to it. He had also, along with the rest of the team, resigned himself to the fact that the men who had been seen that morning going on their group run were indeed Spetsnaz operatives.
The thorniest issue for Harvath was how to get everyone in and out without raising the alarm.
Sparrman occupied the main house by himself, but had two very large dogs. From what Ashby and Barton had seen, they looked like Great Pyrenees. As soon as anyone got near the house, they were going to start barking. If that happened, the element of surprise would be lost.
Back when Harvath and Nicholas had been on opposites sides, Harvath had figured out how to get around the two guard dogs. He didn’t like punishing animals. They were only doing their job. Still, they had to be dealt with. As soon as he and Haney had checked in with the surveillance team and had completed their drone flight, they’d drive into town to get what he needed.
CHAPTER 36
Harvath and Haney dropped off the thermos of coffee and took over surveillance so Ashby and Barton could have a ten-minute break. Harvath also wanted a better look at the front of the farm.
As the two men held down the hide site, Harvath rattled off a specific list of things Haney should make sure to capture when he flew the drone overhead. He was trying to cover every possible eventuality, and this was likely going to be one of their last looks before they breached the property on foot.
When Ashby and Barton returned, they all traded places and Harvath and Haney returned to the minivan. Five minutes later, the drone was airborne and Harvath was watching a live feed via the tablet again.
In addition to primary and contingent means of entering and leaving the farm, Harvath was interested in several possible areas in which to create a diversion.
From takeoff to touchdown, the drone had been up for a little over twenty minutes. Satisfied that he had seen what he needed to, they packed up and headed for town.
First on his list was the pharmacy. Having checked it out online, he knew they would only be open for another hour. The grocery store would be open much later, and even if they somehow missed it, there was always the gas station minimart.
He had just entered the store and had been directed by a clerk to what he needed when his phone rang. It was Jasinski. She had agreed to monitor the radio while he and Haney were out of range.
“Sparrman is on the move,” she said when Harvath accepted the call.
“Alone?” he asked, taking his items to the front of the store so he could pay for them.
“No. There are at least two other people in the car with him. Ashby is going to stay and watch the property. Barton will follow and see where they’re going.”
“Negative. I want it to be Sloane. A woman will draw less attention if they park and she has to get out and follow on foot. Have her call me as soon as she’s on the road.”
“Understood. I’ll relay your instructions.”
Disconnecting the call, Harvath paid for his items and quickly exited the store. Haney was outside with the minivan.
“Sparrman’s on the move,” Harvath informed him.
“Who’s in the follow car?”
“Sloane.”
Both men hopped back in the minivan and Haney asked, “Where to?”
“Start heading toward the farm. As soon as Sloane calls, we’ll have more information and can adjust our course.”
“Roger that.”
Pulling out into traffic, Haney headed back the way they had come. Moments later, Harvath’s cell phone rang. It was Sloane. He put her on speaker so that Haney could hear her, too.
“Okay, Sloane,” said Harvath. “What do you have?”
“He’s driving the red, late model Volkswagen Golf headed north-northwest on Route 143. Two passengers are with him. I’m guessing Spetsnaz.”
“Stay on him, but don’t get too close.”
“So getting right up on his ass is a bad idea?” she snarked. “If only I knew what I was doing.”
“You know what I mean,” Harvath replied. “I want everybody to stay cool. This may be the opportunity we’ve been looking for.”
“Roger that.”
“What should we do about the rest of the team?” Haney asked.
“Let’s spin them up,” said Harvath, gesturing for Haney’s cell phone. “Once we know what the destination is, we can decide who goes back to pick everyone else up.”
Haney handed over his phone and Harvath used it to call Jasinski. He told her what they knew so far and asked her to relay everything to Palmer and Staelin.
“What about Barton?” she asked.
“Same thing,” he replied.
Disconnecting the call, he asked Sloane for an update.
“No change. Still headed toward Visby on 143. Looks like we’re about twenty klicks out.”
Harvath decided to disengage. Looking at Haney, he said, “Pull over.”
Haney did as instructed.