by Brad Taylor
Colonel Lee snipped his ballpoint pen over and over again, a nervous reaction to what they were contemplating. He said, “Okay. Contact Song. Tell him to get it done.”
Colonel Park nodded and stood to leave. Colonel Lee said, “Make no mistake, if they screw this up, we’re dead.”
51
I said, “So we’re a go here? Full-on Omega even though I haven’t developed any cover for action?”
Given the Oversight Council’s usual skittishness, the permission was surprising. Through the VPN, I saw Kurt lean back. He rubbed his forehead and said, “Yeah, you got it, but I need you to do this by the numbers. I mean, truly give me a ghost hit. Any drama, and it’s going to have repercussions back here.”
“Sir, you know I can’t promise that.”
He said nothing for a moment, and I said, “Hey, am I good here? You want a hit? You sure? Is the Council sure?”
Kurt said, “Yes. I want a hit, but that ass clown Alexander Palmer would love nothing more than for this to go bad. He wants to let other agencies handle it.”
“You gave him the timeline, right? You told him what we’re dealing with?”
“Yeah, I told him. He’s more worried about Taskforce exposure than he is about the attack occurring.”
“You’re kidding. What did President Hannister say?”
Kurt said, “I’m not going to go through the sausage making, but you have Omega. Just get it done. Clean.”
“Then what’s up with all the talk about the Council? If this goes bad, they’re looking at the Taskforce? Is that what I’m hearing? They’d rather have dead civilians than a hit that causes them to explain something?”
Kurt sighed and said, “Yes. That’s what you’re hearing. But it never stopped you before.”
I grinned into the camera and said, “And that’s why you get paid the big bucks. I don’t envy you at all. Okay. I’ll get it done—but you need to protect us. Like you always do. Tell me you’ve been working on that.”
Kurt looked off the screen, then came back, sporting a small grin of his own. He said, “Tell Knuckles he’s the one working it.”
I said, “Seriously? Because of the SECSTATE?”
And Kurt disconnected.
Behind me, Knuckles said, “So what’s the word?”
I rubbed my eyes and said, “We have Omega, but it’s not strong. The Council is split, and if we fail, we’re in a world of shit.”
“If they don’t want us to do it, then just say so. I mean, it’s not like I’m begging to thump someone just because I can. Do they know the threat?”
“Yes. One person on the Council does.”
“Who?”
I said, “The SECSTATE. Because of your sword of truth, we have Omega.”
I saw his face turn red, and Veep said, “What does that mean?”
I said, “You don’t read Terry Brooks?”
Jennifer cut off the conversation, slapping me in the stomach for putting Knuckles on the spot. But he deserved it.
She said, “What’s the next move?”
I said, “Recce. Do we have the floor plan yet?”
Veep said, “Yeah, I got it. Well, Creed found a floor plan, but it’s really old. If they altered the inside, it might not be correct.”
I said, “Pull it up. No matter what they did, it’ll get us close.”
Veep manipulated the computer and I said, “Everyone, listen up. This has got to be clean. It’s the easiest hit we’ve ever done, but we cannot have a glitch.”
I heard a knock on our door, and Brett said, “Speaking of glitches.”
Jennifer scowled at him, and opened the door. Amena entered, carrying an ice cream cone. She saw the crowd in the room and said, “You guys about to do something?”
I said, “No. But we need you to—”
She cut me off and said, “Yeah, yeah. Go to the bathroom and turn on the faucets. I get it.”
She left. I heard the water start to run, then said, “Veep, show me what you have.”
He rotated the computer and I analyzed the floor plan. It was pretty simple. A single-bedroom flat with a staircase. It had a balcony at the back that overlooked a narrow alley, but all in all, it was pretty clean.
I said, “Okay, front door is me, Veep, and Knuckles. Brett, you have squirter control out the back. Koko, you’re with him. We’ve got a single breach, so we have to hit it hard. We get in, and we dominate with violence of action.”
Knuckles said, “Put eyes on tonight?”
I said, “Yeah, unfortunately. You guys want to flip for it?”
Knuckles laughed and said, “You mean instead of babysitting here? No. We got it.”
I grinned and said, “You sure? ’Cause I’d really like to spend the night on the street watching a door instead of fighting with Amena.”
He said, “Tough luck. You want any video? You need real-time?”
“No. Radio is fine. Just keep an eye on both breaches. Front door and back balcony.”
“You don’t want to hit tonight?”
“No. Kurt wants a clean kill. I mean pristine, so there’s no bum-rushing this. Give me a sense of the battlespace. They’re not taking the boat for thirty-six hours, so I’m looking at the next cycle of darkness. Get a pattern of life, and we’ll plan from there.”
Veep said, “So I’m going to spend the night in an alley? I can babysit.”
I said, “No, you can’t. That’s my job. I’m getting really good at it just by spending time with you.”
Brett said, “Trust me, kid, you don’t want any part of what’s about to happen.” And he was right, because it was time to talk to Amena.
They left, and the room became quiet, the only sound the muted rushing of water in the bathroom. I said, “It’s time. We can’t keep putting this off.”
Jennifer said, “Pike, we’re not just abandoning her.”
I sighed and said, “I understand how you feel, but we have an operation tomorrow. This is bigger than her, and it’s going to happen sooner or later. We can’t keep stringing her along.”
I heard the water stop, then the door opened. Amena poked her head out and said, “You guys are doing an operation tomorrow?”
I looked at Jennifer, and she raised her eyebrow. The whole “running the faucet” thing was to generate white noise to keep her from hearing us talk. I said, “Why would you say that?”
“Because those other people were here.”
She was looking right at me, and I realized the water hadn’t worked. She’d heard what I’d just said to Jennifer. We sat in silence for a moment, and then she said, “Maybe I’ll just take my stuff and go.”
Jennifer said, “No, you won’t. You can stay here.”
She said, “You mean tonight? I get one more night in a bed? Is that what you mean?”
She stared at me, and it was crushing.
I said, “Come on, you knew this wasn’t going to last forever. We can’t take you to America. I told you that.”
She sat on the edge of the bed and said, “You might not take me there, but I’m going.” She played with the fringe on the duvet, then said, “I know you don’t love me, but what does it take? How much do I have to give? Is my family not enough?”
Before I could answer, Jennifer said, “Hey, that’s not fair. We’ll figure it out. We’re not going to drop you on the street. I promise.”
Amena said, “You’re going to get the men that are trying to do something bad, aren’t you? More Syrians. Evil men, like the ones who killed my family.” Her eyes were stone-cold, like an operator about to breach a door.
Jennifer said, “Honey, we’re just sleeping tonight. That’s all that’s happening.”
She said, “If I find them, will you take me?”
I said, “Take you where?”
“Take me to Ameri
ca.”
I said, “You’re a damn broken record.”
She said, “That’s not what I asked. These guys you’re chasing, they’re Syrian, yes?” When I didn’t respond, she continued, “I can find them, like I did the last man.”
I said, “We don’t need your help. Your job is done. Don’t make this hard.”
“Hard on me, or on you? You can use me, like you did last time.”
I should have paid more attention to her words, but I didn’t. All I wanted to do was get her to bed. I mollified her, saying, “Sure. You capture a couple of terrorists, I’ll think about taking you to America.”
She scowled at my misplaced humor, pulled back the sheets to her bed, and said, “One last night in a bed. Yay me.”
52
Bashir washed their breakfast dishes and said, “You’re going to fly that thing in here?”
Sayid said, “Well, I can’t test it outside.”
He pressed a lever on the controller, and the drone magically rose in the air, hovering about two feet off the hardwood floor, one of the canisters strapped to the bottom of the chassis. Bashir found it much louder than he had imagined. He turned from the sink and said, “Okay, okay. Put it down.”
Sayid did, saying, “It holds the weight, but we can only do one.”
Bashir said, “One at a time. We can run it, fly it back to us, reload the second canister, and send it out again.”
“Won’t the entire drone be contaminated?”
Embarrassed, Bashir said, “Good point. We’ll take the other canister with us to Turkey.” He looked at his watch and said, “It’s time to meet the boat. It was supposed to dock today.”
“You still want me to take the drone?”
“Yes, and your clothes. I have to bring all the food and the second canister. Go find the captain and tell him we want to spend the night on the boat. I’ll meet you there this afternoon with enough supplies for the trip, and tomorrow morning, we make history.”
“What if he says no? We don’t know this man at all.”
“Text me. If he has an issue with it, just come back here, but I really would rather stay on the boat tonight. I don’t want to spend another night in this apartment.”
“What are we going to do with the captain if he freaks when we say we want to go to Turkey? What if he tries to stop us from using the drone?”
“We kill him. Take a knife from the kitchen. I’ll do the same. But he’s working with Yasir. He should be part of the brotherhood.”
Sayid folded up the drone and gingerly placed it into a travel case with a strap. He went into the small kitchen and returned with a backpack and a steak knife. He said, “Are we still doing the code?”
“Yes. If you have any trouble, text the word ‘Run.’ I’ll assume you’re captured and will do my best to accomplish the mission with the second canister.”
Sayid shook his hand and said, “See you tonight.”
Bashir said, “Inshallah, I will be there.”
* * *
—
I made another lap around the harbor, slowing down when we reached a row of boats that looked like they could cross the Med, away from the smaller sailboats and single-engine sport craft. Jennifer snapped a picture and said, “There it is. Looks like a fishing trawler.”
I glanced to what she was looking at and saw a boat about forty-five feet long, resembling the Orca from the movie Jaws. I said, “You sure?”
“Unless there are two boats named Bonne Chance, that’s it.”
We knew from Yasir that the boat was due to dock today, but all we’d had to go on was the name—but that had turned out to be good enough. I pulled off of the ring road around the harbor and said, “Let’s go check on the boys. I’m sure they’re ready for a break.”
Our radio came to life, “Pike, Pike, this is Knuckles. We have Unsub One on the move. Need a call. You want to take him, or the house?”
I said, “What’s his footprint?”
“He’s carrying a satchel and has on a backpack. He’s wearing a Berber coat like he’s a goat herder.”
“Any sign from the other one?”
“Nope. Target is on foot, so we have some time, but if you want to commit to him, I need to break off of the house.”
I thought about it, then said, “Let him go. Keep eyes on the house. He’ll be back. When he is, we take them down.”
Brett cut in, saying, “This is Blood. I have a thought.”
I parked the car at a ridiculously expensive garage, exited, and said, “Yeah?”
“I know you want to hit tonight, in the cover of darkness, but maybe we should look at a daylight hit. Take the house, and wait for him to come back.”
We walked out of the garage, jogged across the boulevard, and entered the old town. I said, “I’ll be there in five minutes. Stand by.”
I reached the first OP, Knuckles in a compact car that looked about as big as a Snickers bar, jammed into an alley adorned with windows hanging out laundry to dry. I tapped on the door and he exited, saying, “He’s got a point. We want to dominate, and three on one is better than three on two.”
I said, “Maybe. Is he in back?”
“Yeah. Watching the balcony.”
I keyed my mic and said, “Blood, this is Pike, what’s the status back there?”
“It’s clean. Absolutely no movement.”
I said, “Stand by. Koko’s on the way. We might be taking your advice.”
“Roger all.”
I looked at Jennifer and said, “Get to the rear. If we go, we go soon, before people start moving for lunch. Blood’s got control. Follow his lead.”
She nodded, withdrew a tricked-out ZEV Tech Glock 23 from her purse, press-checked it for a round, then began walking up the alley.
Knuckles said, “How do you do that? Nobody I date ever listens to a word I say.”
I press-checked my own pistol and said, “Get used to it. I’m pretty sure the SECSTATE isn’t going to go running into a gunfight.”
He chuckled, working his own kit, and said, “Well, she has other strengths worth sticking around for. We going in? Right now?”
“I’m thinking about it. Where’s Veep?”
“Coming back soon. It’s shift change. He’ll be here in two minutes.”
“What do we know? Can we do it?”
“Yeah, it’s the easiest hit we’ve ever done. I’d rather wait until nightfall, but Blood’s got a point. Three on one is better than three on two. We get to the door, enter, and crush. It’s not like we’re clearing a multistory. And then we just wait for the other guy to show up.”
Veep walked up with a couple of coffee cups, saw us talking, and said, “What’s the word?”
I said, “Get your kit situated, we might be going in. But I don’t want to hit a dry hole.”
53
Amena sat in the hotel room, playing with the television remote, anxious. Wanting to stop the inexorable slide of time. Tonight was her last night, unless she could do something to alter her current path. She watched one more cartoon, then threw down the remote.
Pike and Jennifer had left, going to check out the harbor. They didn’t think she’d heard their conversation, but she had. They were trying to find the bad men, and she wanted to help. Wanted to find a way to make herself invaluable to Pike. He would take her to the United States if she helped.
She picked up the cell phone Pike had given her, and left the room.
She exited onto the street, facing the Mediterranean, the promenade full of people enjoying the sunshine. She went left, walking toward the old town and the harbor, staring at every person in the crowd, trying to see a Syrian.
She entered the alleys of the ancient city, wound through the cafés, passing a large flower market, the area packed with shoppers. She kept her eye out, looking for anyone who
could be from her homeland. She saw none. The only thing strange was two Asians in business suits, staring at her from across the plaza.
She reached the end of the alley, a steep hill to her front, forcing her onto the coast road. She took it and kept walking, winding around the hilltop and seeing the harbor ahead. Everyone walking from the old town was forced on the same road, and she felt the crowds grow on the narrow spit of land. She glanced behind her and saw the two Asians again, walking side by side, three people behind her. It raised her interest.
She thought about climbing the hill, just to see if the men followed her, and saw a man in a Moroccan coat in front of her. Carrying a satchel and wearing a backpack.
He was an Arab. Of that she was sure.
She forgot about the Asians, scurrying to catch up to him, darting between the crowds, slowing down right behind his back. She followed his every move, seeing him glance left and right as if he were looking for someone tracking him. She stayed back far enough to not be noticed, but wasn’t really worried. She’d picked enough pockets to know that nobody feared a thirteen-year-old girl.
He reached the edge of the harbor and slowed down, surveying the boats. She did the same, matching his pace. He walked around the port, checking every boat for something. Halfway around, before he reached the small sailboats and day runners, he paused. He pulled out a piece of paper, glanced at it, then looked at a fishing trawler. She scurried past him.
He walked down the road to the gangplank, and shouted something. A man exited the boat, and they talked. After a minute, they both went down the gangplank, disappearing into the boat. She waited a moment, then scurried behind them, wanting to hear what they said.
* * *
—
Bashir wandered around the small apartment, packing up his things and mentally making a list of supplies for the trip. He realized it wasn’t that complicated, as they basically needed water and protein for the journey. Maybe some fruit.