by Brad Taylor
Now that she was wearing the outfit, complete with elbow-length black gloves to protect her hands from the ABS, it made our suits look like sweatpants.
She said to me, “You sure Retro’s stopped the real escort? It’s going to be embarrassing if we both show up.”
Knuckles said, “Yeah, he confirmed while you were in the bathroom. He spoofed Panda’s IP and canceled the appointment. Taskforce had to pay the cancellation fee, which I’m sure will cause some issues after we get back when the bean counters see what it’s for. I told him he was the one claiming the receipt on his travel voucher.”
She smiled and said, “Okay, then. Let’s get it done.”
I said, “Final backbrief. We get to the door and do what?”
Brett said, “I knock and talk to the head of security, telling him we have to be in the suite while she’s there.”
“And when he says no?”
“I insist.”
“But not too hard. Act like you’re doing your job, but don’t turn it off. Jennifer?”
“When it gets heated, I say I’m good going in alone.”
“Knuckles?”
“I interject that we’re staying right outside. Then hand her a phone, telling her to call if there’s trouble.”
Before I could ask, Jennifer said, “I go in and place the phone on the nearest available desk or table.”
I wanted the phone in her hand when she entered, so she could set it down with the small clutch she held, without having to pull it out, which would look awkward. The “phone” itself was a digital camera with multiple fish-eye lenses that would give us a view of what was going on inside.
I said, “Then, you do your siren dance and go into the bedroom. Wait until he closes the door, which he will, then wipe him with the ABS. When it takes effect, slave the computer. I promise it’ll be sitting somewhere close to where he sleeps.”
She nodded and said, “If there’s trouble?”
I held up a keycard. “We’re coming in, courtesy of Retro. Keep on comms with your earpiece. You call, and we’re in. Backup, just start shouting. Retro’s got the security laptop slaved, so he’ll hear it even if we don’t.”
She held up the thumb drive with the software Retro had built. “How long will this thing take?”
“Retro says five minutes. It’s got a search algorithm imbedded in it, so it won’t be imaging a bunch of porn, but depending on how much data he has, it might be longer. It’ll flash green when it’s done.”
“What if it takes a lot longer?”
“He’ll be shitting for hours. You’ll be fine.”
She squinted at me and I smiled. “Hey, we don’t pay you just to be eye candy.”
She said nothing, but I was sure I’d hear about that comment later. I went around the team and said, “Any more questions? We good?”
Nobody said anything, and I looked at Jennifer. “On your command.”
A devious little grin slipped out, and she said, “Showtime.”
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Brad Taylor, Lieutenant Colonel (ret.), is a twenty-one-year veteran of the U.S. Army Infantry and Special Forces, including eight years with the 1st Special Forces Operational Detachment–Delta, popularly known as Delta Force. Taylor retired in 2010 after serving more than two decades and participating in Operation Enduring Freedom and Operation Iraqi Freedom, as well as classified operations around the globe. His final military post was as Assistant Professor of Military Science at the Citadel. His first five Pike Logan thrillers were New York Times bestsellers. He lives in Charleston, South Carolina.
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