Hunter Killer

by Brad Taylor

  Eventually, in the nineteenth century, they built the world’s first public elevator. Called the Lacerda Elevator, after the man who had initially envisioned its creation, it had undergone many renovations, and now it housed four cars that could take more than a hundred people at a time to the top of the escarpment twenty-four hours a day. Standing out as a landmark seen throughout the lower city, it was a tourist attraction as well as a fixture of life for those living in Salvador.

  Because of the layout of the city, I was betting that the Russians were headed to the upper level, to their bed-down site at a hotel or house, and the elevator was the quickest way to interdict them.

  I whipped a U-turn and pulled into a parking lot in front of a decrepit, crumbling building. I had no idea about the rules for parking, but didn’t really care.

  I leapt out, calling Jennifer, “Koko, Koko, what’s your status?”

  “Still on them. They’re walking deeper, doing a lot of talking.”

  “Intentions?”

  “Not sure. They aren’t headed to the elevator, though.”

  Damn it.

  “Okay. Keep on them. Aaron and Shoshana are inbound.”

  I locked the car and jogged across the street to the entrance of the elevator, waiting on the rest of the team. We’d either chase after Jennifer, or we’d meet her here later. There was no way they were staying on the lower level, as all the hotels were on top, so sooner or later, they were headed up.

  I saw Aaron stalking through the crowds, a half a head taller than everyone else. In Brazil, where everyone on the street was predator or prey, nobody bothered him at all, because he was most definitely a predator.

  Behind him was Shoshana, assessing her surroundings while she walked, constantly in a state of red. She would determine a threat four minutes before the threat even decided to rear its head. Together they were a deadly combination, and I was glad I had them.

  He reached me and said, “Maybe we should have stayed with Hannibal.”

  “Yeah, maybe. Let’s see.”

  Shoshana saw my angst and poked my shoulder playfully, saying, “It’ll work. Koko will find a way.”

  No sooner had she said it than Jennifer called. “They’re at the train. They’re going up.”

  Shoshana smiled and said, “There you go.”

  Besides the elevator or walking a five-mile circuitous route to get to the upper city, there was a funicular railroad called the Plano Inclinado Goncalves. Built in the 1800s, it had gone up and down for more than a century before being closed from neglect and lack of funding. It had reopened in 2014 to great fanfare, and was just as popular as the elevator.

  I poked Shoshana back, rolled my eyes at Aaron, and keyed my radio, saying, “Koko, roger all. We’ll meet you at the top. Let ’em come out first and we’ll pick them up.”

  We turned and entered the elevator entrance, which, far from being like an elevator in a hotel, looked more like a bus station, with lines leading to a lady taking money.

  We paid the pittance required, then crammed into a car that was about three times the size of a hotel elevator, riding over two hundred feet to the top. The opposite door opened, and everyone piled out onto a concourse that looked like a concrete boarding gate to an airplane, the view toward the harbor spilling out below us.

  We speed-walked past the crowds and exited into a courtyard lined with buildings from the seventeenth century, the exception being a squat one-story mess that was apparently someone’s attempt at art deco in 1970.

  We jogged past it, and I saw a police presence milling about, then a sign proclaiming it as some sort of city hall, which meant we weren’t doing any shenanigans near it.

  We kept going until we hit a large cathedral and Shoshana said, “Left. It’s to the left.”

  We reached the back of the cathedral and saw the entrance to the funicular, hemmed in on all sides by buildings. It would be the easiest surveillance box I’d ever set up.

  There was a flow of people exiting the station, but I wasn’t worried about missing our targets, because unlike the elevator, with four cars that worked 24/7, the funicular had only two cars, and, being pulled up and down the escarpment by a cable, was much slower. I was sure we’d made it to the top while Jennifer was still waiting.

  I called, “Koko, Koko, we’re set. Status?”

  I got back two clicks and nothing else. Meaning she was on the train with the targets and couldn’t talk.

  I positioned Shoshana and Aaron on the road that led by the entrance to the cathedral, while I took an alley that threaded behind the back, leaving the east-west road we’d used to get here open. It was a risk, but if they were going in that direction, they would have taken the elevator. Why walk a longer distance to the train only to walk back in the other direction where the elevator was located?

  Inside the station I could see two empty bays for the trains—really more like a trolley car than a train—meaning one was coming up and one was going down. After about a minute, I saw a car slide into the docking slot, then the people begin to exit. In the line I recognized the targets, but still didn’t see Jennifer. I faded into an alcove, waiting.

  The riders filed by me, some taking the southern road to the entrance of the cathedral and others heading toward city hall. None came down my alley. Eventually, I saw the redhead, then crooked teeth, and held my breath. Waiting on their choice.

  They passed by me, then the road to the elevator, and I called, “Trigger, Trigger. Carrie, they’re coming to you.”

  Shoshana said, “We have them.”

  “Roger. Koko, what’s your status?”

  “Coming out now.”

  I saw her exit the station and showed myself. She jogged up and said, “No issues. The car was so packed I was right next to them. I got a Copperhead on the redhead.”

  I said, “You’re kidding. Where?”

  She smiled and said, “Underneath the seam of his jacket. Don’t worry, he won’t find it like the North Korean’s did.”

  A small disk about the size of a quarter, the Copperhead was a beacon that felt like a cloth bubble with liquid inside. A burst device that projected a signal to satellites, it had an adhesive backing that would let it be affixed to just about anything and a battery life of nine hours of continuous transmission, with a chemical compound that literally ate itself as it expended power.

  Once the bubble was broken by Jennifer—which was how it was initiated—it would blast a signal out every thirty minutes, giving it a life span of a week, which was the good news. The bad news was the signal it gave was so weak that tall buildings had the potential to block it, much like listening to satellite radio in a car in the city, but it would still give its burst faithfully for our satellites to pick up, then transmit to our Taskforce phones. It wasn’t optimal, as there were major time gaps in coverage between transmissions, but it was certainly better than nothing.

  I smiled at her and said, “Never cease to amaze me.”

  She slapped my stomach and said, “I’m waiting on the same.”

  I grabbed her hand to prevent more damage and keyed my radio, saying, “Carrie, what’s the status?”

  “We’re still headed south on Largo de Jesus. They’ve crossed over into a pedestrian-only area full of restaurants and shops. We’re hanging back a bit in case they stop.”

  I looked at the map on my phone, found the only road with Jesus in the name, and saw they were about a hundred meters away. The pedestrian square ended at a church, with a single avenue running in front perpendicular to the square. I said, “We’re going to parallel you on the north side, one road over.”

  Jennifer and I jogged down an alley on the north side of the square, continuing until it dead-ended into a road called Inacio Acciole. I held up, and Jennifer pointed south, saying, “That’s the church at the base of the square.”

  I could see an ornate façade of carved granite rising into the air, a small courtyard in front, and an alley leading down the side. I said, “Aaron, Carrie,
we’re set at the end of the square.”

  Aaron came on, saying, “Pike, they kept going all the way to the church. They just entered.”

  I turned to Jennifer and said, “What is it? Why would they go there?”

  I knew she had already studied the entire city and would have an answer that made sense. I was wrong. She said, “I have no idea. It’s the Church of Saint Francis, and it’s just a tourist attraction now. The chapel is decorated completely in gold leaf, one of the most ornate in the world. It used to be a convent as well, but now it’s just a church. There’s nothing inside to see besides the chapel.”

  What the hell.

  I said, “Pull up the Copperhead and see if it’s sending.”

  She did, saying, “Nothing. We’re either in between transmissions, or it’s getting blocked by the building.”

  I got on the radio and said, “Carrie, Aaron, stage at one of those outdoor cafes on the square. We’ll take the north. Just give us a trigger.”

  The street we were on was narrow, with cobblestone from centuries past and the buildings butting right up to the edge, leaving little in the way for hiding. There were some shops selling local goods, but unlike the pedestrian square, there weren’t any outdoor cafes to allow us to sit and blend in.

  I speed-walked down it searching desperately for something to allow us to hang around for a few minutes, and found an open door, sunlight spilling through. It wasn’t someone’s house. I peeked through it, seeing a dark corridor stretching out to an open area. I entered, finding myself in a hallway that opened up into a courtyard. I kept going, finding some sort of amphitheater, the place overrun with litter and feral cats.

  I stepped out onto the stage and they scattered, running like they knew I was a threat. Which I was.

  Jennifer, following behind, said, “Didn’t expect this.”

  I said, “We’ll stage right here. Wait them out.”

  Jennifer’s phone vibrated and she glanced at it, then did a double take, saying, “I have a beacon lock. It’s at the southeast corner of the compound. Outside the chapel, where the old convent was.”

  Before I could process that, I heard, “Pike, Carrie. Snaggletooth just exited as a singleton. He’s headed your way.”

  Why would only one of them stay inside? And why in the old convent?

  I looked around at the deserted amphitheater and had an idea. I said, “Roger all. Close down the back door.”

  Jennifer looked at me with a question, and I heard Shoshana say, “Why is that?”

  I locked eyes with Jennifer, and, into the radio, I said, “We’re taking him down right here.”

  Chapter 30

  Riding up in the funicular rail car, approaching the station for the upper city, Maksim said, “You’d think they’d limit the number of people they allowed inside this thing.”

  They docked and the old sliding door opened, the people in front of him spilling out. Alek said, “It wouldn’t be so bad if everyone took a bath once in a while.”

  Speaking Russian, neither worried about anyone exiting the car understanding them and taking offense. They broke out into a courtyard, a fountain to their right and an alley to their left. Maksim began walking at a rapid pace, not saying another word until they were past the ancient Saint Basilica Cathedral. Even as he knew nobody could understand him, he took no chances with the words he was about to utter.

  When they were finally walking two abreast, with nobody near, he said, “So it looks like you’re heading to Rio. Leaving this mess behind.”

  “Yeah. I’m sorry about that. I don’t want to leave you in the lurch.”

  Maksim chuckled and said, “I’d go, too, if I could. Nikita is losing it, and I don’t think it’s going to end well. He’ll need someone to blame, and anybody here will be on the deck.”

  “If I go, you’re sure you’ll still have enough to take care of the woman and the kid, and also execute the sniper contingency?”

  “You heard Nikita. We have no choice now. Anyway, it shouldn’t be an issue. Let me talk to Kolva when we get in. He’s trained. I’ll brief him and get him over to the island with a weapon.”

  They entered the pedestrian square and Alek looked at his watch, saying, “It’s getting late, and that sushi restaurant didn’t do a whole lot for me.” He pointed and said, “That place has a pretty good seafood stew called moqueca or mopeca or something. You want to get some food? We both have a long night ahead.”

  “No time. If those idiots on the ferry give up and I haven’t set the sniper, it’s mission fail.”

  Alek understood the unstated peril for failure and, in truth, was relieved to be leaving, although by being given responsibility for the next target, he would be in the same situation as Maksim very soon, and Nikita would probably be in a worse mental state, if that was possible.

  They walked the rest of the way in silence, passing outdoor cafes and art galleries, eventually reaching the entrance to São Francisco Church and Convent. They entered the building, going right by the man selling tickets for admission. He simply nodded, letting them pass.

  They walked into an open courtyard in the back, the second floor ringed with a balcony. Maksim said, “Any trouble with the staff?”

  “None. The money was enough to keep them quiet. But that might change if they know we’re hosting a kidnapping.”

  They reached a staircase and rose to the second floor, passing rooms no longer used, the wooden door frames crumbling from the ravages of time.

  Maksim said, “They haven’t even come to see what you’re doing? Not curious at all?”

  They reached a corner room, the door bigger than the others. Alek said, “No. I told them such curiosity would result in pain. They’ve seen enough crime down here that they don’t want to rock the boat. All they want is the money.”

  He opened the door and Maksim entered a large suite, the plaster crumbling from the walls, water stains from leaks in the roof framing a window looking onto an outside balcony where a man was seated, surveying the street below. Snaking from a hole in the ceiling was a single bulb hanging from a wire. To the left was a hallway leading to two bedrooms.

  Maksim said, “Not too bad.”

  Alek grimaced and said, “Try shitting in a bucket for a week. It gets old.”

  “Security?”

  “During the day, it’s just that observation point on the balcony. At night, I’ll post some security in the alley, but it’s been quiet for the most part. Biggest threat has been gangs of kids that roam around here.”

  Alek threw a bit of plaster at the window, waiting until it bounced. When the man turned his head, he waved his arm and said, “Kolva!”

  The man rose and entered the room, looking uncertain, glancing between them both. Maksim gave him his new mission, telling him that time was of the essence.

  When he finished, Kolva looked confused. He asked, “So I’m not to help on the assault?”

  “No. You only engage if that ferry makes it to the harbor intact. If they peacefully resolve this, you wait until you identify the target, then set off the explosives.”

  “And if they don’t go off? I have no idea if a bullet strike will do it.”

  Maksim didn’t even want to think of that eventuality. He said, “Let them go. We’ll have to reengage. Killing her with a sniper shot to the head won’t look accidental.”

  Kolva left to pack his belongings, and Alek said, “With both of us leaving, it’s going to set back security on this place. Only four left, and they have to sleep sometime.”

  Maksim walked down the hall to the room on the right. Inside was a girl of about eight, hunched over in the corner, her arms around her legs. Next to her was an older woman, her black hair askew, her wrists flex-tied to her front, a bandage on her left hand with an empty space where the pinky finger would have been. She’d heard them approach, and grew fearful when they appeared at the door, drawing back as if she were trying to magically disappear into the wall.

  Maksim gave not a though
t to her fear or the pain he’d caused. He said, “This’ll be over tonight. The men can go without sleep for one night. Just make sure whoever you leave in charge knows what to do with the woman. I want this place vacated tomorrow, the bodies gone, no trace we were here.”

  He went back into the barren living room and Alek followed, saying, “If Nikita wasn’t so hell-bent on that guy in the United States, we’d have the men we need without worrying about shuffling back and forth.”

  Maksim said, “It is what it is. We don’t know everything. If killing him helps out, then let’s kill him.”

  Alek scoffed and said, “That guy can’t affect us down here. He’s in the United States. If he could, he’d be here, which means those men in Charleston are wasting their time.”

  Maksim said, “I’d rather be in Charleston hunting a single man than down here with this mess. Pay’s the same either way.”

  Alek laughed and Maksim said, “I have to go. Good luck in Rio.”

  He left, taking the stairs two at a time, walking through the courtyard and back out onto the street. He took a left, thinking about what Alek had said. The men in Charleston could most certainly be used better down here, but he wasn’t going to question Nikita.

  If the American target was bad enough to scare Nikita, then it was probably worth the diversion of men. His only comfort was that the American couldn’t make his current ferry mess any worse. Not unless he could get here from the United States in the next twelve hours on some magic carpet.

  Now outside, Maksim saw a blond woman window shopping, looking at a string of leather purses hanging from a wall next to an open door. He recognized her as the same woman who’d ridden up in the funicular railroad car with him and Alek.

  She glanced at him, and he smiled.

  Holding his eyes, she said, “Execute.”

  The word confused him. Before he could respond, he was jerked violently off his feet into the open doorway.

  Chapter 31

  Jennifer was looking at me like I had a horn growing out of my head. On the net I said, “How far has he gone? How much time do I have?”