Page 81 of Rising Tiger

Nevertheless, he turned the page and began the activation process. He was about to open the gates of hell.

What would be talked about in the years to come was what the freshly unleashed demon had done in pursuit of its goal.

Yang, however, couldn’t help but wonder how his role in helping the creature slip its bonds would be remembered.

His was but the turn of a key in a lock. However, as sure as the sun would rise, he would be responsible for every drop of blood that monster would spill. And the operative known as Carbon was the most bloodthirsty beast China had ever set loose on any of its enemies.

CHAPTER 44

NEWDELHI

Vijay had a plan in mind regarding Aga Sayed, but he needed to get a couple of things lined up. He also wanted to spend a few hours with his family. It was Diwali, after all.

He asked Harvath if he wanted to join them for dinner and experience a real Indian festival firsthand. Harvath thanked him, but said that after the ghost pepper incident, he probably wouldn’t trust him ever again. Vijay had laughed and told him that if he changed his mind, he would still be welcome. Apparently, both his wifeandhis mother-in-law were excellent cooks.

As enticing as the offer was, Harvath relished the idea of a little downtime. Only two days ago, he had literally been hit by a truck—and he felt like it.

Calling down to the bell captain, he promised the man a seriously good tip if he would hit as many of the hotel’s ice machines as possible and bring all the cubes up to his room. He wanted to take the world’s coldest and longest ice bath.

As he awaited the bellman, he availed himself of the suite’s minibar and poured himself a bourbon. Just a little something to take the edge off, numb the pain, and help him relax.

Once enough ice had been poured into the massive tub, he tipped the bellman, activated the do-not-disturb light on the door, and filled the vessel the rest of the way with water.

Sliding in was like taking the polar plunge. No matter how much time had passed since his SEAL training, he had never lost his deep and abiding hate for cold water.

With no access to pain pills, or a chiropractor to pop his myriad misplaced ribs and vertebrae back into place, this was the best medicine he had available.

Nursing his bourbon, he tried not to focus on the cold. The longer he stayed in the tub, the more restorative the torture would be.

He hadn’t been this cold since the Russian helicopter he had been flying in had crashed into the ocean above the Arctic Circle. The only time he had been colder was when he had fallen through a frozen river in Russia and had begun hallucinating.

It was funny how, more than his SEAL training, the worst experiences he had had with cold had always involved Russia. That was a country that if he never saw it again, it would be too soon. He didn’t have a problem with the Russian people. Their government, however, he despised with a passion.

The same went for China. Its people, by and large, were decent, honorable, hardworking. But the Chinese Communist Party was an absolutely horrific regime. They enslaved, slaughtered, and oppressed people on a scale that, much like Russia’s atrocities, should have been a global embarrassment.

The fact that the United States remained so reliant on Chinese manufacturing was a black mark on its purported belief in individual liberty and human rights.

Harvath loved his country, deeply, but its relationship with China was a constant source of frustration and anger for him. And recent events involving Ritter, Nicholas, and Nina had done nothing but bolster his hatred of the CCP.

Taking a swig of bourbon, he tried to push the cold, as well as the godless Chinese communists, from his mind. It didn’t work. The only thing that would keep him in the tub was being pissed-off, so he allowed his anger at both to flood through him.

Finally, when he couldn’t stand it any longer, he got out and took a nice, long, hot shower.

Standing under the rain head, with jets shooting at him from the walls, he let the water pound him into a trancelike state.

He allowed his mind to let go of bad things. He thought of only good things. He thought of Sølvi in Oslo, their wedding, and of seeing her again soon.

He thought of Nicholas and Nina, and their baby, and hoped that all would be well.

And he thought of getting his hands on the person responsible for killing Eli Ritter and imagined what it would be like to watch him die.

While not on the same level of Nicholas’s satisfaction in killing the person who had attacked him and his family in his home, he figured it would be in the ballpark. Harvath was nothing if not loyal. Plus, meting out vengeance was something of a specialty of his. No one wronged those he cared about without paying the full and maximum penalty.

Climbing out of the shower, he put on one of the Oberoi’s famous bathrobes, shaved, and brewed an espresso.

The fact that he was shortly going to mix it up in the New Delhi underworld seemed almost surreal. From a cold, loud transport aircraft to two luxury hotels in a row, the espionage world was nothing if not inconsistent and totally unpredictable.

He set an alarm and closed his eyes, hoping to catch some sleep, but was only able to drift off for about twenty minutes before popping back up, wide awake.

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