After going over the plan one last time, Harvath organized the team into waves. As Morrison’s job was to reposition the SUV, he sent him first.
His instructions were simple: Go in, sit at the bar, and send a text as to whether Naya was working.
Because their radios were so bulky, there was no way they could hide them under their street clothes. They were lucky enough simply to conceal their pistols.
If Ragusa was coming to see his mistress this evening, Harvath figured it would happen in one of two ways. Either the Mafioso would spend the bulk of his evening at home with his wife and family before heading out, or he would get to his mistress’s apartment early and expect her to cook for him.
With the little he knew about Sicilians, he doubted Ragusa was going to trade his wife’s cooking for his Nigerian mistress’s. Plus, there was no way he was going to take Naya out to dinner. That wasn’t how men in the Cosa Nostra operated. It was likely a very closely held secret that he was seeing the bartender.
Harvath assumed that Naya would work her shift until Ragusa showed up. Once he arrived, or let her know he was on the way, she’d punch out and head upstairs.
Fifteen minutes later, they had their answer. Harvath read the text aloud. “Naya and another woman tending bar. Club less than half full. Music sucks.”
“Remind him to smile,” Barton said.
“How’s the mood?” asked Staelin. “Any TVs on in there?”
Ignoring Barton, Harvath texted back Staelin’s question.
“No TVs,” came the response. Harvath read it aloud.
“Good,” Staelin replied. “We want everybody having a real good time.”
“Let’s just hope it’s loud,” Harvath remarked.
“Don’t worry,” the Delta Force operative stated. “It’s an Italian nightclub. It’ll be plenty loud.”
Harvath then looked at Barton. “You’re up.”
“Don’t forget to smile,” Staelin added as the SEAL headed out.
Walking away, Barton gave him the finger over his shoulder.
“He’s sweet,” the Delta Force operative said as he took a sip of his Red Bull.
Harvath texted Morrison to let him know Barton was inbound. Then, turning to Lovett, he said, “Time to go.”
Standing up, he looked at Staelin, who was eyeing two attractive young women who had just entered the pub. “See you there?” he asked.
“Yeah,” the man replied, taking a beat longer than Harvath would have liked. “See you there.”
Shaking his head, he gestured for Lovett to go first, and then followed her out the door.
As soon as they stepped outside, he caught the look on her face. “Don’t worry,” he said. “He’ll be there.”
“That’s not what I’m worried about,” she answered.
He was about to respond when he felt the first drops of rain begin to fall.
CHAPTER 56
The rain wasn’t bad at first, but then it started to come down hard. Harvath and Lovett took refuge in a nearby doorway.
Based on what they had seen on the radar, it didn’t look as if it would hang around for long.
Lovett got back to what had been bugging her when they were on their way out of the pub. “Have you figured out what you’re going to do with Ragusa if he doesn’t want to talk?”
“Don’t worry,” Harvath replied. “He’ll talk.”
“But what if he doesn’t?”
“We’ll burn that bridge when we come to it.”
Was that supposed to be a joke? she wondered. This was serious. “If anything happens to him,” she stated, “I’m the one who’s going to get a call from the Carabinieri.”
Harvath appreciated the spot she was in, but he didn’t really care. They had a job to do. They were going to get the information out of Ragusa no matter what.
“How long have you been in Italy?” he asked.
“Almost two years. And before you say anything, I’d actually like to finish out my time here. I’d also like to be able to continue my career and have a nice long retirement without a Red Notice from Interpol hanging over my head.”
This was exactly what was wrong with the CIA, and it pissed him off. “There were probably a lot of people at Burning Man, and in Spain and Paris, also hoping for long retirements with plenty of travel.”
“Ouch,” she replied.
Harvath didn’t respond.
“Listen,” she continued. “I didn’t mean it to sound—”
“The rain’s letting up,” he said, stepping out of the doorway. “Let’s move.”
• • •
They walked in silence back to the repositioned SUV. As Lovett pulled her running shoes from her bag and put them on, Harvath texted Barton and Staelin. Naya was still behind the bar and Staelin was en route to take Barton’s place.
Once she had changed her shoes, they headed off for the street behind the Black Cat, Via Giuseppe Mario Puglia.
Lovett had wanted to clear the air. When they stopped at the corner and Harvath pretended he was checking his messages while he checked out the street, she spoke.
“I want you to know that I’m committed to this assignment. I understand what’s at stake.”
“Good,” he replied, scanning for anything out of the ordinary.
“I also want you to know that I’ve worked very hard to get where I am. I don’t want it blown needlessly.”
That got his attention. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means you’ve got a reputation. You’re known for being a cowboy. A lot of china gets broken when you’re around.”
“And?”
“I like my job,” she said. “I’m good at it. I’d like to keep it.”
“That makes two of us,” he responded, as he tucked his phone back in his pocket and turned to walk down the street. “Just do what I say and you’ll be fine.”
• • •
They did two passes of the building with the scaffolding in front. A very long time ago, it had been a school. Now, it was being renovated into apartments.
There were bars over the lower windows and heavy wooden doors on the ground floor.
“Why can’t we go in through one of these?” she asked, nodding at one.
“Lever locks,” Harvath replied, pointing at the hardware. “I don’t have the right tools. Even if I did, they take too long to pick.”
Lovett looked up at the scaffolding and resigned herself to the fact that she was going to have to climb.
“It’s wet, so be careful,” said Harvath.
She nodded.
The scaffolding was wrapped in gray plastic netting to make it less of an eyesore. Combined with the dimly lit street, it would help hide their ascent.
Orange plastic webbing had been wrapped around the base, ostensibly to keep people from doing exactly what they were about to do.
When Harvath was sure no one was watching, he untied a portion of it and climbed inside. Filled with trepidation, Lovett followed.
There were no ladders and no stairs. They had to scale the scaffolding itself.
As soon as she started, her heart began to pound and she began to perspire. She reminded herself not to look down.
A few narrow boards pushed up against the facade marked each floor. They bowed under their combined weight as Harvath tried to wrench open the metal shutters, all of which had been locked from the inside of the building. The only windows without shutters were on the very top floor.
The farther up they climbed, the more her muscles felt like hardening cement. It was getting tougher to get handholds as her fingers froze in midclench. She was dizzy and her legs felt as if they were made of lead.
“Almost there,” Harvath reassured her. “You got this.”
Lovett wasn’t so sure. Her pace slowed even more. She hated being a slave to her fear, but she couldn’t help it.