The Apostle: A Thriller (The Scot Harvath Series)
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A new administration and a new approach to dealing with America’s enemies have left covert counterterrorism operative Scot Harvath without a job. But when American doctor Julia Gallo is kidnapped in Afghanistan, the terms of her ransom leave the president with only one course of action.
Every politician has a secret. And when the daughter of a politically connected family is kidnapped abroad, America’s new president will agree to anything—even a deadly and ill-advised rescue plan—in order to keep his secret hidden.
But when covert counterterrorism operative Scot Harvath is assigned to infiltrate one of the world’s most notorious prisons and free the man the kidnappers demand as ransom, he quickly learns that there is much more to the operation than anyone dares to admit.
As the subterfuge is laid bare, Harvath must examine his own career of ruthlessly hunting down and killing terrorists and decide if he has what it takes to help one of the world’s worst go free.
the sound of his stomach growling. He rolled over and looked at the empty pallet on the floor beside him. Zwak must have gotten up to check on the American woman. He was like a child with an injured bird, and Massoud feared he had grown too attached to her. The Taliban commander also feared that his brother was holding a grudge. Zwak had not said a word to him since he had arrived at the mountain camp. Massoud knew his brother was angry at him for taking away his basketball shoes, but
and yelled, "Frag out!" as he ran back to his pickup. Leaping into the bed, he slammed his fist against its side and yelled, "Go, go, go!" Immediately, Fontaine stepped on the gas and Harvath ducked down. When the frags detonated, they lifted both of the disabled vehicles off the ground and sent a bright orange plume of flame into the air. Shrapnel pockmarked their tailgate and skipped across the roof of the cab. They had been driving for only a few hundred feet when Fontaine saw
down over four thousand feet in elevation." "Very nice," replied Harvath as he unwrapped the patoo from around his shoulders and took the pakol off his head. It was at least twenty degrees warmer. "It can get pretty cold at night, though," added Gallagher as two members of the house staff appeared. He directed them to grab the liquor out of the back of the truck and take it inside along with Harvath's bag. Fontaine already knew his way around the Shangri-La and told his colleagues
woman." The interpreter was confused, but based on the stern faces and powerful physiques of the three men, surmised they probably weren't NGO workers here to conduct a project assessment. "I don't think I understand-" he began. Harvath held up his hand. "They'll know what we're talking about. Tell them." Daoud turned to the shura and repeated what Harvath had said. He waited for their response and then translated. "They say they don't know anything about an American woman." "Ask
said Harvath. "You can't draw a bucket of water from the well without the village elders' knowing about it. Any interest from an outside organization at this point, especially a Western one, is going to raise alarm bells." "Then what's your plan?" "The elders here have a legitimate reason to call for a jirga with the elders of Massoud's village. They could have one set up in less than an hour. Because of the violent nature of the dispute, the shura is going to travel with some muscle.