Free Hidden Order: A Thriller by Brad Thor Page A

had grouped things by subject matter.
    One of Harvath’s passions was American History, particularly the years surrounding the Revolutionary War. He had loved that piece of America’s past since he was a boy. In fact, had his two majors in college not kept him so busy, he might have considered adding an American history minor.
    It took him a few minutes to find what he was looking for, but once he had all the books stacked on his desk, he picked them up and headed for the kitchen.
    Carlton had found probably the only two food items in the entire house that seemed to weather Harvath’s long trips away without spoiling—pickled herring and Wasa Crispbread—yet another throwback to his Scandinavian-themed dating days.
    Setting the books on the kitchen table, Harvath grabbed a beer from the fridge and joined the Old Man.
    “What’s all this?” Carlton asked.
    “Research,” replied Harvath as he twisted the top off his beer and sent the cap sailing toward the sink.
    “ Books? Why don’t you use the Internet like everyone else?”
    He shook his head. It was ironic that he’d be the one championing books, while the Old Man touted the Internet. “The Web’s pretty good, but it doesn’t have everything. When it comes to historical items, books are still the best bet.”
    Harvath opened the uppermost book from his stack and began leafing through it. When he figured out that it wasn’t the one he wanted, he set it aside, and opened another. Soon enough, he came to the page he was looking for.
    “Let me see the tight shot of the sign hung around Claire Marcourt’s neck,” he said without taking his eyes from the book.
    Opening the folder on the table, Reed Carlton fished out the picture and handed it to Harvath. “Here you go.”
    “Thanks,” Harvath replied as he took it and set it inside, right next to the image he was looking at. He then turned the book so the Old Man could see.
    “They’re almost a perfect match.”
    Harvath nodded. “Except Claire Marcourt’s doesn’t have the words Death to Tyranny underneath.”
    “Which would have been redundant considering the line from Jefferson.”
    “I agree. That’s probably why they left it out.”
    Carlton stared at the image. “That’s been bothering me ever since we saw it at the Fed. I know I should remember that crown over the skull and bones, but I don’t.”
    The man was a walking encyclopedia about almost everything. It wasn’toften that Harvath knew something that Carlton didn’t and when that happened, Harvath often ribbed the older man over it. Carlton may have been his boss, but he had grown to be like a second father to him. Harvath’s own father had died not long after he had graduated from high school. The two hadn’t been on good terms. Harvath’s father, also a U.S. Navy SEAL, had been against Scot’s pursuing a career in professional sports, despite his son’s success on the competition circuit and acceptance to the U.S. Ski Team.
    Like father, like son, Harvath had been bound and determined to do what he wanted to do. Ignoring his father’s wishes, he pursued his athletic career, and their relationship suffered dramatically because of it. They fell into a cold silence, with Harvath’s mother doing everything she could to keep the family together. The frosty détente collapsed when Harvath’s father was killed in a training accident.
    Harvath’s athletic career collapsed soon after. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t get his head back into competition. The crushing guilt was more than he could bear. He knew he had let his father down. No matter how many friends and coaches spoke to him, his mind couldn’t be changed. He abandoned sports and decided to return to school.
    After graduating cum laude from the University of Southern California, he joined the Navy and was eventually accepted into BUD/S. It was the most grueling experience Harvath had ever undergone, but the idea that if his father could do it, he could do it