by David Archer
"I haven't used one of those in a long time," Ken said. "They can be pretty sweet, especially when you need to get into a tight spot to shoot from."
"I can imagine," Sam said. "I think it would be pretty sweet, as you say, if we got a chance to use this on Chandler."
Ken shrugged. "We might. On the other hand, I'd give my left arm for a good fifty cal sniper rifle, right now. I could just about reach out and touch him from here with that."
"Sorry, boys," Natasha said, "didn't have any of those in our arms room. When I looked at what was available, I felt like what I brought was the best selection."
"Relax, beautiful," Ken said. "No one is complaining, just wishful thinking. This is one of the most important targets I've ever gone after, and probably one of the most difficult. I'd happily take a SCUD missile, if I knew I could reach him with it."
"Sorry, I didn't have any of those, either. To be honest, it didn't occur to me you might want explosives. I do have grenades, and I believe there are some LAWS rockets. Those can do some damage to armored cars and tanks, so they might be useful against a normal sedan. If you want them, I'll get them for you."
Sam looked at Ken, but he only shrugged. "It's almost impossible to guess what you might need," he said. "Carrying rockets and grenades around is much more dangerous, and considerably more noticeable, than just packing iron in the form of automatic pistols. Even that carbine is easier to conceal down your britches than grenades or rockets."
A phone rang suddenly, and Natasha pulled one from her purse. "Hello? Yes, this is she. All right, keep me posted. Let me know if he stops for any length of time, and where." She ended the call, and Sam was reminded of Harry. Like him, she didn't even bother to say goodbye.
"That was the surveillance team," she said. "Chandler and his people are on the move. They climbed into a van and seemed to be headed into the business district. They're keeping them in sight, and will let me know if he stops, or changes direction."
Sam got up and began pacing around the room. "Okay, that's great that there watching him, but that doesn't really help us. We should be out there, on his tail ourselves. That way, we can take the shot when the opportunity comes."
Ken shook his head. "It isn't that easy, Sam. It's not like you see in the movies, where the secret agent is always on top of the bad guy. In real life, we spend a lot of time just watching and waiting. If we can get some idea of a routine, or if he stops somewhere we can be certain he'll stay for a while, then we can make a move. Until then, we wait and let the Intel come in."
"I hate waiting," Sam said, and then he went and stood by the window, looking out over the gardens and pool.
The afternoon wore on, and although there were more reports from the surveillance team, none of them were helpful. The only thing that seemed to be of value was when one of the team managed to get close to Chandler and overheard him telling one of his people that they would be meeting up with someone important late the following afternoon, and a particular restaurant was named for the meeting.
"There it is," Ken said. "That's our opportunity, our window. We can be there, waiting for him, since we know he'll be there tomorrow. Natasha, where's this place at?"
"It's actually not far," she said. "It's off of King George Street, in the downtown triangle. I know the place; it's not very big, and the front is open to the street."
Ken furrowed his brow. "That's odd," he said. "It sounds like the perfect place for an ambush, so I can't imagine why he would choose it. That's almost like saying, 'Here I am, come and get me.' I can't imagine why he would choose such a place, it doesn't make sense."
"Maybe it does," Natasha said. "Depending on who it is he's a meeting there, it could be that the choice of meeting place was theirs and they chose this one so that they could see a threat that might be coming. I mean, nobody really trusts Chandler, they're just afraid of him. Right?"
Ken shrugged. "That's true, and it's possible that someone else chose the location. It's even possible that it was chosen specifically because it would be a good place for an ambush. Maybe someone else is planning one."
"Somehow, I don't see us getting that lucky," Sam said. "I think that's just more of your wishful thinking."
Natasha stood and faced them both. "Well, either way, it doesn't matter," she said. "It's still the best opportunity we’re going to get, so we need to go and look it over, figure out how to position for the morning. Maybe we can even find ways to use the other weapons."
Sam shook his head. “No, no rockets, not into a restaurant. I understand there may be collateral damage in missions like this, but I want to avoid any we can, all right? Same for grenades; they'll be fine if we can use them against him, or even his little group, like in a car or something, but not in a public setting.”
Natasha turned to Ken. “Great, you brought Opie Taylor with you. Harry swears by this guy, Ken, but I'll be honest—if he can't handle it, you should have left him behind.”
“Shut up, Natasha,” Ken said suddenly. “I've already fought beside Sam, and I trust him, too. If you've got a problem, then go on home, and we'll handle this alone. Otherwise, just help us do our job. And without any further commentary, all right?”
Sam was watching them both, and suddenly started laughing.
“What's so funny?” Ken asked, and Sam laughed even harder for a moment.
“I was just surprised,” he said, “because you said she used to be a Soviet agent, but she knew who Opie Taylor was! I had to stop and think for a minute, before I remembered that Opie Taylor was the kid from the old Andy Griffith show! That's old Americana, Man, it just cracked me up that a Russian spy would use it like an old American would.”
Ken and Natasha both looked at him as if he had lost his mind, so he just shrugged and turned back to looking out the window.
An hour later, they'd come to the conclusion that the restaurant offered the best possible opportunity to get a shot at Chandler, so they agreed to go for it. They followed Natasha down to her car, and she drove them to where the restaurant sat on King George. Since they knew that Chandler and company were all safely tucked away back on Chopin Street, they parked the car and went inside.
The place was about thirty feet across, and twice that in depth, with the entire front wall made of glass doors that slid into the walls on either side. When it was cold, they could be closed, but since the weather was warm, they were open. Several of the tables had been dragged outside, onto the sidewalk, and there was a festive atmosphere inside the place.
They took a table near the back, and ordered soft drinks, with Sam delighted to find that the place carried a brand of root beer, called Virgil's. It was stronger than what he was used to, but it was root beer, and he was happy.
“I'm thinking,” Ken said, “that if we could get a spot over there, across the street, we could probably get a pretty clear shot at him no matter where he might sit in here. The only problem is how to position ourselves so that he won't see us. Any ideas?”
Natasha stared at the area he was indicating. “What about a truck, like a delivery truck? UPS, something like that?”
Ken shook his head. “Too obvious. Anything that he can't see into is likely to make him turn and run. I know it would, if it was me. No, we need something that won't look like it could be hiding us, but still does.”
Sam was also looking at the spot, and an idea was trying to form in his mind. He let it settle, and then grinned.
“Hey,” he said. “You're not thinking it through all the way. You're thinking of how to hide us while we take the shot, right? Well, why hide at all?”
Ken looked at him. “Well, not getting shot dead before we get our jobs done comes to mind as a pretty good reason. What are you thinking?”
Sam pointed. “The whole front is open onto King George Street. If we wait until we know he's inside here, we could come in and start blasting right at the front door, basically. We'd have the element of surprise, and if we could get hold of some automatic weapons...”
Natasha nodded. “I can get H-K machine pistols, ten millimeter. They're pretty nasty, especially up close like this would be. The problem I see is that if you drive up here in a hurry, by the time you get out of the car, his bodyguards are going to know who you are and they'll be able to open fire before you can.”
“True,” Sam said, “if you drove up in a car. The sound of the engine, the doors slamming open, all of it would give you away. On the other hand, if we were just hiding up the street a little ways, we could wait ‘til they were inside and sitting down, then just stroll up at our leisure and walk in with our guns blazing. It's the same way the Chicago mob used to get rid of their opposition; they didn't bother with anything fancy, they just walked in and started firing point blank. If it worked for them, it ought to work for us, too.”
Ken looked around, and then nodded. “It's worth a try,” he said, “but I don't like the idea of putting all our eggs into a single basket. I'll make the hit, with you waiting as backup. With a pair of those machine pistols, I should be able to take the whole lot of them out in about eight seconds.”
Sam was shaking his head. “I don't like that idea,” he said. “I think we should go in together, and get it done. We can't take a chance on him getting away, Ken, we just can't.”
"Sam, it's a suicide mission. It won't matter if I get them all, at least some of them are gonna get me, too, and I don't see any way around that. I don't have a family waiting at home, you do. I go alone.”
Natasha reached over and laid a hand on his. “Kenneth, are you sure? As you say, it's suicide. Oh, you might survive, but only if we can get you to surgery in time. Think it through, before you commit.”
“I'm already committed, Natasha. This guy has to be put down, and this is the best shot. If I fail, then Sam will still be out here, and can try again. It's the best way.”
Sam stared at him for a long moment, then nodded once. “Okay,” he said, “you're the pro at this thing. I'll be the backup—but, Ken, I don't want you to get yourself killed, especially if you can't get Chandler. Don't throw your life away unless it buys us what we need, which is him in the grave. Deal?”
“Deal,” Ken said. “Let's get out of here. I feel like a drink, and this isn’t where I want to have it.”
They got up and left, then went back to the hotel. Ken planned for them to be in position the next afternoon by four, so that they'd be ready when Chandler showed up, but that left him a lot of hours. They went to the hotel bar, and Ken ordered a whiskey sour.
After five of them, he finally allowed Sam to drag them back up to the room. He didn't even bother to fold out the couch, but just flopped onto it and passed out.
Sam went into the bedroom and called Indie. She was delighted to hear from him, and he was careful to keep his voice and manner light.
"Hey, Babe," he said. "Just wanted to hear your voice before I hit the hay. What's Kenzie doing?"
"She's gone with your mom; they went to get some groceries. George and one of the men went with them. She'll be upset that she missed your call."
"Well, you tell her that I love her, and that my work here might be over tomorrow. If it is, then I hope to come home the day after that. How's everything else there?”
“It's going okay,” she said wistfully, “but I wish you were here. Sam, this is the craziest thing that we've ever been mixed up in, and it scares me. I'm terrified something bad is going to happen.”
“It'll all be okay, Babe,” Sam said. “Ken says I'm just the second string, here, and he gets to go take care of the job. Like I said, if everything goes according to plan, we'll be done here tomorrow afternoon, and then I'll be on the way home to you.” He sighed. “I think I'm ready to go into music full time, what would you think of that?”
He heard something that sounded like a cross between a laugh and a sob, but the smile in her voice was unmistakable. “Sam, that would be my idea of Heaven, right at this moment!”
They chatted for a few minutes longer, and then said their ‘I love you's’ to one another. Sam hung up, and whispered a prayer that it wouldn't be the last time he ever heard her voice, then climbed into the bed and laid there for an hour before he got to sleep.
Sam woke the next morning, looked at his phone and saw that it was nearly ten in the morning, and wondered how much sleep he still needed in order to feel human. He didn't worry over it for too long, though, because he knew where he was and why he was there, so he rolled out of the bed and went to the sitting room to check on Ken.
He had risen earlier, and left a note saying that he'd been down in the restaurant, having breakfast. Sam washed his face and went down the elevator to find him. When he saw him sitting in the same spot where they'd had their dinner the night before, he waved and joined him.
“I figured you'd be here on time,” Ken said, “so I ordered you some coffee. Be warned, it's strong and nasty, compared to the stuff we're used to.”
“As long as it has caffeine, I'm happy,” Sam said, but he grimaced after tasting the coffee. He picked up a sugar bowl and added several spoons to the cup. “What's good for breakfast here?”
“Get the shakshouka,” Ken said. “It's poached eggs in tomato and veggie sauce, and it's awesome! And tell them to add a side of herring.”
Sam looked at him doubtfully, but ordered the meal when the waiter came. When he'd gone, Ken looked at him and smiled.
“I wanted to tell you,” he said, “that I've really been glad to get to know you, Sam Prichard. You're an amazing fellow, and a good man to have at your back. If things go bad this afternoon, I want you to know that.”
Sam scowled. “I still wish you'd let me go in with you. Together, we might have a chance to get it done and survive.”
Ken smiled. “I'd rather know you're ready to back me up and make sure Chandler dies, if for any reason he escapes me. That's the most important thing you can do for me, Sam, I'm serious. I need...”
Sam's phone rang, and he pulled it out of his pocket. “It's Harry,” he said, then answered.
“Hey, Harry.”
“Sam, I have now realized a lifelong dream, and landed in Israel. I'm in a taxi and on my way to Jerusalem, so where the heck are you?”
“We're at the King David Hotel, Harry, and sitting in the restaurant. How far out are you?”
“I'm guessing that I can be there in about thirty more minutes,” Harry said. “Stay there, and you can buy me something to eat; I'm famished.”
The line went dead, and Sam put the phone away. “Harry's here, and on the way. I can't wait to hear what he thinks of this plan.”
Ken smiled. “He'll hate it, but so do you, so that's no surprise. I'm more worried that he'll try to put the kibosh on it. I'm going in there after Chandler, Sam, and neither of you is gonna stop me, got that?”
“Hey, I'm not arguing,” Sam said. “I just think you're an idiot, but there's nothing new about that. Maybe Harry can talk some sense into you.”
Harry came walking into the restaurant a half hour later, and Sam waved to show him where they were sitting. He waved back and made his way through the tightly packed tables to get to theirs, and sat down. He looked at Sam's empty dishes and blinked.
“Tell me they have steaks here,” he said, and Sam laughed.
“Get the fillet of beef, Harry, I had it last night and it's incredible.”
Harry placed the order when the waiter appeared, and then Sam and Ken began filling him in on the plan to hit Chandler that afternoon. Harry asked a few questions, nodded at the right places, and finally said, “Sounds to me like the best way to go about it. When you call Natasha, tell her we need a third machine pistol, though.”
Ken scowled. “Harry, I'm going in alone, I already explained that to you.”
Harry looked at him. “Did I say anything different? I simply want to be armed, in case the bastard gets past you and comes running my way. Do you blame me?”
They took Harry's bag up to their room when he'd finished eating, and he
took the chance to lie down for a short nap on the couch. They were scheduled to meet with Natasha there at the room at two, so Sam and Ken went and shared the bed for a couple of hours, themselves. When they rose at one thirty, they found Harry up and using a laptop computer to study the area around the restaurant.
“I've got it all figured out,” he said. “I see how you want to handle this, Ken, and I think it could work, but look at this: Here, right to the north of the restaurant, there's this little narrow alley. It's just about wide enough for us to hide in single file, and it's invisible from the street. I'm thinking that if Sam and I were in there, then when you go in from the south end, we could strike from the opposite side. They wouldn't know for at least a few seconds what hit them, so we'd have a good chance of making the hit and coming out of it with all of us alive.”
Ken stared at him. “You're not gonna let me do this my way, are you, you old bastard?”
Harry grinned at him. “I've been in this business a lot longer than you, Son, remember that? Besides, there are times when you just have to do something, and I'm having one of those times. I need to be in on this, Ken. Just deal with an old man's stubbornness, okay?”
Sam laughed. “You can't beat him, Ken, you might as well just face it. We're all going to be in on this, and it's gonna be better that way.”
The three of them talked over the plan until they were all sure of what was expected of each of them, and by the time Natasha showed up, they were ready to get rolling. She gave Harry a hug, and kissed his cheek, then handed him the machine pistol he'd demanded.
They piled into her car, and she drove them to the restaurant so that they could all get into position. They knew that it would be a long wait, but they felt better about being there early, and each of them had spent long hours in waiting before. It wasn't anything new to them, and they were all able to find a way to get comfortable.
Ken sat on a rock behind a bush that was about twenty yards from the place, while Harry and Sam had to sit down on the ground. Each of them had an earpiece in that Natasha had provided, so that when the surveillance team saw Chandler coming their way, they would be notified a few minutes early. That way, they could all get to their feet and be ready to move once all their prey was inside.