Foreign Influence by Brad Thor Read Free Book Online

guns, but they drew the line at explosives, fearing correctly that they might be used on Italian soil.”
    “Then where did the terrorists get the explosives?”
    “According to the Italians, the explosives came in through another channel. A man mentioned in chatter before and after the attack—Moscerino.”
    “Who is Moscerino ?” asked Harvath.
    “It’s not a who exactly, it’s a what,” replied Carlton, as he slid the file across the table. “ Moscerino is Italian for ‘dwarf.’”
    Harvath hesitated as he reached for the file. It was only a fraction of a second, but the old man noticed.
    “Based on a tip they received, the Italians located a private airfield in the north of Sicily where the exchange supposedly took place. Sifting through air traffic control records, they traced the plane to a charter company in Naples. After being served with a court order, the company handed over its records and made the pilot available for questioning.”
    “And let me guess. He admitted to flying a dwarf in and out of Sicily?”
    “Along with two very large dogs.”
    Harvath didn’t like it. “Did the pilot see anything?” he asked as he flipped through the folder. “Did he see any Muslim men or any alleged transaction take place?”
    “No. Whatever happened, it took place inside a closed hangar. The passenger and his dogs deplaned with a large Storm case on wheels, entered the hangar, and then about ten minutes later returned without the case, reboarded the plane, and instructed the pilot to take him back to Naples.”
    “What? No aluminum briefcase full of cash handcuffed to his wrist?”
    Carlton looked at Harvath. “I’m not going to beat around the bush with you, Scot. We both know who this is.”
    “I know who you think it is.”
    “You’re telling me this isn’t the Troll?”
    Harvath closed the file. “That’s exactly what I’m telling you.”
    “And how can you be sure?”
    “First of all, he sells information, not military-grade explosives. And secondly, he’d never conduct an operation like this himself. He’d use an intermediary; a cutout. Somebody is obviously trying to set him up.”
    Carlton thought for a moment. “I know he helped you track down the man who shot Tracy.”
    “Only after I’d erased all of his data and emptied out all of his bank accounts.”
    “So there are no underlying loyalties I need to worry about between you?”
    On the surface, it was a fair question. The Troll was all about money. He lacked integrity and often worked with terrorist organizations. He had taken advantage of an al-Qaeda attack on New York, which killed thousands of Americans, including one of Harvath’s best friends, to steal information from a top-secret, U.S. data-mining operation.
    At the same time, though, Harvath felt sorry for him. Not only had he been born a midget, but his parents had abandoned him as a child; selling him to a brothel in Russia where he’d been starved, beaten, and forced to perform unutterable sex acts. It was difficult for Harvath to admit that he felt pity for the little man.
    The pair had worked together, and Harvath had respected the Troll’slove for animals, particularly his dogs. He also respected his ability to glean information. Though he should have seen him as reprehensible, no different from the many men who operated on the wrong side of the law whom he’d been tasked with tracking down and killing over the years, he couldn’t. Despite his flaws, Harvath had come to like him.
    “What I want to know,” said the Old Man, keying in again on Harvath’s hesitancy, “is if I assign you to find him, can you carry it out?”
    Harvath studied the file folder, knowing what his answer should be, but instead of answering he asked a question of his own. “Is there an order for him to be terminated?”
    “Would that make a difference?”
    “Maybe.”
    “Then maybe you shouldn’t take this assignment.”
    “So they do want him dead,” stated