Page 20 of Edge of Honor

Thanking the security officers, Nicholas waited until they had closed the conference room door and then, shaking Rogers’s hand, offered him a seat and said, “Of all the names you could have used.Colonel Josef Kozak?”

Kozak was the Russian GRU colonel who had been in charge of the Spetsnaz team that had killed the Carlton Group’s founder, its acting director Lydia Ryan, a Navy Corpsman who had been taking care of Carlton, and Harvath’s then wife, Lara, before putting a bag over his head and dragging him off to Russia. Without Rogers and his amazing team at the Hostage Recovery Fusion Cell, there was no telling how things might have ended up for Harvath.

“I’m sorry for the cloak-and-dagger,” Rogers replied. “I didn’t know where else to turn. And I’m way out of my depth. If nothing else, I figured the less people who know I am here, the better.”

“Why don’t you tell me what’s going on?”

Rogers eyed the carafe of coffee on the table and Nicholas motioned for him to help himself.

Pouring a cup of coffee, he said, “Three weeks before the inauguration, we received intelligence that Qasem Soleimani, the head of the Iranian Quds Force, was going to be traveling from Damascus to Baghdad. Both the United States and the European Parliament had designated the Quds Force a terrorist organization. Soleimani and his soldiers were behind the deaths of hundreds of American and coalition service members.

“Soleimani was responsible for advancing Iran’s goals of religious fascism by supporting militias such as the Houthis in Yemin, Hezbollah in Lebanon, and a whole host of Iraqi terrorist groups. He helped orchestrate proxy wars in Syria and Iraq, was responsible for the mass killings of civilians in multiple Middle Eastern countries, and helped the mullahs in Tehran brutally crack down on uprisings across Iran. The man was both a terrorist and a straight-up war criminal.”

“In other words,” Nicholas clarified, “a legitimate tier-one target.”

“As far as the National Security Council was concerned, absolutely. He landed in Baghdad shortly after midnight and we had an Air Force MQ-9Reaper drone on station, loitering above the city. He and his entourage, which included several pro-Iranian paramilitary personalities, split themselves between a Toyota sedan and a Hyundai van. As they were exiting the airport via an access road, the President gave the order to engage.

“Cleared hot, the Reaper then fired multiple Hellfire missiles, obliterating the convoy. We later identified Soleimani’s remains via DNA testing on a severed finger found in the rubble, which still had the gaudy silver and red ring he was known to wear.”

“It was a bold move, especially at the end of an administration,” Nicholas offered.

“It was unquestionably bold. And if we had to do it all over again, I would still recommend it to the President wholeheartedly and without reservation.”

“Our new president is a bit of an isolationist, so that might be a tough sell, but I’d like to think that when push comes to shove, he’s willing to do the right thing.”

His comment caused Rogers to grimace. It was a quick, involuntary reaction and it immediately vanished, but Nicholas had noticed it nonetheless.

Looking at him, he asked, “You don’t agree?”

“That’s part of why I’m here,” said Rogers. “In the aftermath of taking out Soleimani, a press photo from that night was released by the White House. It shows all the key National Security Council members gathered in the Situation Room. Two of the people in that photo are now dead. I believe the Iranians had them killed. I think I’m next.”

“Wait a second,” said Nicholas, somewhat shocked. “You’re talking about the former secretary of state and the chairman of the Joint Chiefs, right?”

Rogers nodded.

“One of whom fell down a set of stairs at home and broke his neck, while the other died from a massive coronary. You think these were assassinations? Hits by the Iranians?”

Rogers nodded again.

“I don’t have to tell you that the SecState was a well-known, heavy drinker. Port was his poison, if memory serves. And the chairman of theJoint Chiefs wasn’t exactly in fighting shape. He was a somewhat portly mananda smoker. What’s more, they were both getting up there in age. Neither of them was in any condition to outkick the actuarial tables. In fact, it’s a wonder neither of them died while in office. With all due respect, if you were running a dead pool, you’d be crazy not to have had squares on both of them.”

“All I know,” said Rogers, “is that the Iranian Republic swore to get revenge against every person in that photo.”

“Undoubtedly, nothing would make them happier. Soleimani was like a cult figure in Iran and the cult has only grown bigger since his death. But a bad fall and a heart attack don’t necessarily add up to a murder spree. Do you have any evidence? Any intel that they were assassinated?”

The man shook his head. “Not until yesterday.”

“What happened yesterday?”

“Two men, who had been following me earlier in the day, ended up chasing me through Rock Creek Park last night while I was on a run.”

Nicholas’s expression changed. “Chasingyou?”

“If I hadn’t been able to flag down a park ranger, I don’t know what would have happened.”

“What did they look like?”

Rogers gave him the same report he had given the Park Police and then laid out everything he had done afterward—right up until he had arrived at the Carlton Group this morning.

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