Black List by Brad Thor Read Free Book Online Page A

with that name. I think you have made a mistake.”
    Harvath saw the tell again. “I don’t think so. I was told to see you and only you. When I asked for that brand, you sold me a pack of cigarettes. Inside was a car key and an address to a garage not far from here.”
    The woman, who had been staring at Harvath, must have understood enough English to figure out what was being said as she turned to him and asked, “Eso cierto?”
    The tobacconist ignored her and motioned with his head toward his cigarettes on the nightstand. Harvath nodded that it was okay.
    He removed a cigarette from the pack, lit it up, and adjusted the pillows behind him with his elbow before sitting up and taking a deep drag. “I do favors sometimes.”
    “I know you do. And now I need a favor.”
    The man shrugged. “How can I possibly do you a favor?”
    “After you sold me the cigarettes and I left your shop, two men followed me.”
    “ Two men? What two men?”
    Harvath described the pair and their very distinct features.
    The tobacconist’s eyes went wide. “It’s you.”
    “So you do remember me.”
    “Those men were very angry for what you did.”
    “That’s not my problem,” replied Harvath. “Right now, you’re going to contact their boss for me.”
    The tobacconist grimaced and drew in a deep breath. “He was not happy with what you did to the men.”
    Harvath raised his weapon and pointed it at the man’s forehead. “There’s only one person’s happiness you should be concerned with at this moment and that’s the guy holding this gun.”
    The tobacconist raised his hands in self-defense. “I don’t have contact with him. He calls me.”
    Harvath noticed the wedding ring on the man’s hand. “Does your wife know where you are right now?”
    “Ay, dios mio,” said the woman as she launched into a tirade about not wanting his wife to find out.
    “Cierra la boca!” he ordered once more before turning to Harvath and saying, “As I told you, I do not know how to make contact. But there is someone else I know who can get a message to him.”
    Harvath lowered his weapon. “Do either of you have a car?”
    The man looked at his paramour, then back at Harvath, and nodded.
    “Good,” Harvath replied. “Both of you get dressed. We’re going for a drive.”

CHAPTER 8

    P arked alongside a narrow country road outside Bilbao, Harvath allowed his two guests to get out of the car. Removing the keys from the ignition, Harvath slid them into his pocket.
    The tobacconist lit up another cigarette while his mistress spread a blanket on the grass. Before leaving her apartment, Harvath had suggested she bring along something to eat. The people they were waiting for wouldn’t be in any hurry to get here.
    It was pretty basic fare as far as picnics were concerned, which was understandable considering the hasty circumstances in which it was thrown together. The woman had brought bread, cheese, a few apples, and some sausage. She had also brought a plastic bottle filled with homemade wine, which Harvath declined.
    He had no idea what the tobacconist had said to her, but she had lost her apprehension and had even tried to smile at Harvath once or twice. He wasn’t in the mood and didn’t return the gesture.
    His mind was on Riley and what had happened. The protocol he was following was correct, but it was maddeningly slow. He needed to make contact with Carlton. The Old Man would know immediately what their next move should be and he’d move heaven and earth to get to the bottomof the attack. Once he had all the puzzle pieces in place, he’d set Harvath loose to exact revenge.
    A lot would have to happen between now and that moment, so he tried to think of something else. Unfortunately, he couldn’t get the image of Riley Turner out of his mind.
    While he was lost in thought, the tobacconist noticed a car in the distance. “Eh,” the old man said, drawing Harvath’s attention to the vehicle.
    Harvath recognized it right away