As he sat there, sipping his bourbon, Harvath conducted a mental after-action report. He hoped that somewhere, up there, Reed was proud of him. Returning to his seat, he raised the glass and toasted the Old Man. Once he was in international airspace, he got up and poured himself a drink. It wasn’t until he was back on The Carlton Group jet and in the air that the weight of everything he had been under started to lift. There, he’d at least be back in NATO territory, though he couldn’t let his guard down. Climbing into the smuggler’s truck, he made himself comfortable for his next six hours of driving to the border with Poland. Without her, this could have very well turned into a suicide operation. She had taken a lot of risks on his behalf and he wanted her to know how much he appreciated it. When they met up with the Old Man’s smugglers and said their good-byes, he thanked her. Though he would have liked to have gotten some sleep, he kept his eyes open and his head on a swivel the entire way.
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