The Athens Solution: A Short Story Read Online Free PDF

impossible, though, was how many times Harvath had rescheduled with her or had left the country entirely without giving her any notice at all. She had asked him to put one week on the books, then set it in stone, wrap it in bulletproof Kevlar, and bury it under fifty feet of concrete.
    Harvath picked one, went to Carlton, and had him sprinkle holy water on the dates. The deal was done.
    They would take in New England’s fall colors. She pulled strings at work to have the same week off. She rented the perfect cottage on the water and convinced the Realtor to take delivery of two cases of their favorite wine. It would be a great surprise.
    They would stop at her favorite general store on the way and stock up on supplies. Once they arrived at the cottage, the wine would be there and they wouldn’t have to leave for anything. The master bedroom had enormous windows and they could watch the colors peak from there. It was exactly what they needed.
    When Reed Carlton, or the “Old Man” as Harvath referred to him, called, he got right to the point. “You’ve got a meeting in the office tomorrow morning. Be here by seven-thirty. Wear a suit.”
    Obviously, somebody important was coming in, but Carlton hadn’t offered up any details. Typical. The old spymaster never revealed more than he wanted anyone to know.
    Harvath didn’t mind. He was used to it by now. He was also already half checked out, looking forward to a week away up in New England.
    The next morning, the five-foot-ten Harvath showed up at the Carlton Group’s offices in Reston, Virginia, coffee in hand, wearing a coal gray Ralph Lauren suit, white shirt, and a dark blue tie. With only cardio for his workouts overseas, he had dropped about ten pounds from his already fit frame.
    His blue eyes stood out against his tan skin, and his sandy brown hair appeared lighter. In the mirror that morning, he had looked more like a beach-going Southern California college student, than a U.S. Navy SEAL turned covert counterterrorism operative.
    The Old Man was already in the conference room with their guest. Harvath stepped in and was introduced to Ben Beaman, the Director of CARE International.
    After Harvath asked how the doctor he had rescued in Afghanistan was doing, Carlton invited everyone to take their seats and then steered the conversation to the matter at hand.
    Beaman had brought his laptop and ran both men through a quick PowerPoint about the Matumaini Clinic. The slides included pictures of the facility, its staff, and the people they served, mostly families with children.
    The clinic’s name came from the Swahili word for hope . It was deep in the jungle near the border with Uganda—the only medical facility for over two hundred kilometers. It boasted fifteen beds, an exam room that doubled as a laboratory, and a small dispensary.
    Beaman’s final slide contained the video of the attack. He pushed the play button and the three men watched.
    When it was over, Beaman closed his laptop and sat back in his chair. “That’s all we know,” he had said.
    The Old Man activated a flat screen beyond the conference table. On it, he explained, was recent satellite footage he had acquired.
    When he clicked a small wireless device, the image was magnified, coming to rest on a small clearing that had been hacked out of the dense jungle. In the center was Beaman’s clinic.
    There was no sign of anyone anywhere near it.
    Carlton held up his index finger as if to say, “There’s something else,” and then drew their attention back to the screen.
    Manipulating the wireless device, he refocused the image, northwest of the clinic. There, they could see what looked like a long, scorched trench at the base of a hill. Tendrils of black smoke curled into the air from it.
    “Any idea what that is?” the Old Man asked.
    Beaman shook his head.
    “Looks like a burn pit,” Harvath replied. “A big one.”
    Carlton nodded. “I agree. Any thoughts on what they were