by Brad Taylor
77
You sure? Lucas is foxtrot now?” I couldn’t believe we’d missed someone exiting the vehicle.
“Yeah. I was a couple of cars back, slowed down by the roundabout, and when I caught back up, he was gone. I didn’t see him dismount, but he’s no longer in the vehicle.”
Dammit. “Break off, break off. Circle the block. Pick him back up. Go north into the diplomatic quarter. He’s probably trying to intercept the dip-pouch.”
“Pike, our embassy is hell and gone from here. The State guys aren’t hauling money to the Australian Embassy.”
“We don’t know what the hell those guys are doing. How they’re going to transfer the cash. Lucas does. Find him, now! We’ll take up the slack on the vehicle.”
Since Lucas was gone, we were fresh. The driver would have no idea who we were. Jennifer was already burning rubber to make up the ground, instinctively knowing what I would say and that we were in the game. I vectored Brett one road over and caught the Ford passing in front of us. Knuckles shouted, “There he is!” and Jennifer jerked the wheel, cutting off traffic to get behind him.
He said, “Whoa! Keep it steady. We’re still in a follow here. Don’t burn us.”
Jennifer looked at me for guidance, understanding the situation even before Knuckles. Already knowing what I was going to say.
“Brett, we’re headed north on Al Asmakh Street. Cut over to Grand Hammad and box him in. Get ready to take him down.”
Knuckles realized the problem a split second after he’d opened his mouth. “Okay, okay. I got the right side. Passenger side.”
This guy was the only anchor we had to Lucas, and we needed the information in his head. It would be quick and dirty.
I said, “I’ll take the left. Brett, you pin him in. Don’t let him escape to your front.”
“Roger all.”
The vehicle never made it to Grand Hammad, pulling into the parking lot for a shopping area. I looked at the moving map on my phone and saw it was the Souk Waqif. Great. A rat maze.
The vehicle stopped outside a hotel, and the man exited in a hurry, looking over his shoulder. He was wearing Western dress. A uniform of some kind. He saw us coming and took off running. Straight into the souk.
Brett parked at the far end of the lot and came sprinting our way. I said, “Jennifer, get this thing ready to roll out of here. Knuckles, go left. Block the left.”
I knew it was a ridiculous order. The souk would have forty different exits, and there was no way Knuckles could block them all. I started to chase, pounding across the parking lot and watching the target disappear through a door. Then I remembered Dubai and Brett’s track-star speed. “Brett! You got him?”
He was behind me, still catching up. “Yeah. I see him.”
“Catch his ass.”
I was running flat out toward the door he’d disappeared through when Brett passed me like I was standing still. I was able to see Brett jerk right and struggled to keep him in sight. The souk was narrow, using only natural light, making it hard to run full-bore for fear of slamming into something. I was knocking folks out of the way trying to keep up when I broke out into an alley that wasn’t covered.
Brett was forty meters ahead and right on the guy’s heels. He leapt through the air and hammered him just below the shoulder blades, slamming the guy into a stall full of parakeets. I caught up a split second later, hearing the stall owner screeching just like his birds. A crowd gathered, and the screeching grew louder. I looked around and saw birds all over the damn place. We’d caught him in some aviary zoo, with stalls left and right jammed with all manner of fowl, the owners now raising their arms and squawking louder than the goods they were selling.
By the time I’d reached them Brett had the guy in an arm bar, the man’s teeth gritted in pain. I turned around and pointed at the gathering crowd, telling them to back off in English, but using my tone and stance to convey what the language barrier would not. They got the point and quieted down, content to watch the circus.
I knelt down next to Brett. “What’s he saying?”
“Nothing. He was hired to drive Lucas. He dropped him off next to the City Center mall. Nothing we don’t already know.”
I leaned in close. “Crank his arm.”
Brett did so, and the man shrieked. “Listen to me,” I said. “The man you carried is going to kill someone. I’m trying to prevent it. If you don’t want to help, you’ll die as well. What was his plan?”
The man moaned, his eyes rolling, and I could tell he was making connections he hadn’t before. He’d done something more than just drive for Lucas and he was now realizing it might be bad. He said, “I don’t know about any plan. He said he was a businessman. Here on business. All I did was drive him from the airport. I don’t know about any plan.”
“Where is he staying? Where were you going to take him?”
“To the mall. I swear, he told me to take him to the mall. That’s it.”
Lying through his teeth. I jerked his collar tight, cutting into his throat. “Tell me more than that, you asshole. You didn’t pick him up as a cab fare, and he didn’t have you meet him at the airport to take him to the mall. Where was he going?”
The man’s eyes flicked wildly left and right, and he shouted in broken Arabic to the crowd around us. They began to react, closing in. I jerked his lapel again and felt something cut into my hand. His name tag. From the Four Seasons Hotel.
I shook him hard and said, “Is he going to the Four Seasons? Is that it?”
He moaned again, and nodded. “He’s trying to get special favors from the American delegation there. For his business. I’m not supposed to say anything. Don’t tell him I told you. He owes me money.”
I stood up, telling Brett to release him. When I turned around, we faced a hostile crowd, angry at the way we’d treated the man. I ignored them and continued to work the problem.
“Knuckles, call Kurt and find out what you can about the Four Seasons Hotel and the peace conference. See who’s staying there. Jennifer, back the SUV right up to the door we entered.”
Knuckles acknowledged, and Jennifer said, “I’m already there, what’s up?”
The mob had gotten tight around us, allowing the driver to flee out the back of the bird souk. Two men closed on Brett and began shouting, inside his personal space.
“We’ll be coming out hot. Keep the engine revving.”
Brett pushed one back, and the other threw a pathetic roundhouse. Brett dropped him with a straight punch, and the throng went wild.
I wasted no time trying to reason with any of them, even though most were still doing nothing but yelling. I hooked the legs of the nearest guy and jerked him to the ground, then popped the man behind him in the mouth, causing him to crumble. My intent was to open a path, not hurt anyone.
Someone grabbed my shoulder from the front and I clamped my hand over his, trapping it. I leaned forward, rotating down and away, and heard the wrist break. The guy screamed and dropped. Someone flew into the wall to my right, his head snapping back and making contact with the stone. He fell like a sack of wheat, and I saw Brett running back the way we had come. I took off after him, thinking of the old proverb about running from a grizzly.
I don’t have to be faster than the bear. Just faster than you.
Brett apparently knew the proverb as well, running like a scalded cheetah and leaving me to the crowd. Luckily, while there was no way I could catch him, I could certainly outrun a bunch of wheezing souk-stall owners.
I jumped into the back of our SUV seconds after Brett. I glared at him and said, “Jennifer, get the hell out of here.”
She hit the gas, driving to Brett’s vehicle on the far side of the parking lot. I turned to Knuckles. “What did you find out from Kurt?”
“Nothing good. I’ve vectored Decoy, but we’re probably already too late.”
“What?”
“The Four Seasons is where the entire Quartet is staying for the peace summit. Lucas is
at ground zero.”
78
Lucas saw the line snaking out the door to the Four Seasons before he even began walking up the drive. The security had become extremely tight, with everyone waiting until each piece of luggage was checked and they themselves had been wanded by a security guard. It would have been more efficient to have two lines: one for people checking in and one for people already staying, but apparently that idea hadn’t occurred to the management.
He took his place at the end and slowly shuffled forward. He glanced at his watch, knowing the two CIA escorts would be here at any time. Just as he reached the front and handed his backpack over, he saw a Westerner exit the hotel and speak in the ear of one of the security personnel. After that, he positioned himself at the head of the circle in front of the hotel.
He’s going to meet the couriers to get them past security. A horrendous thought crossed his mind. What if they bypass the check-in? He takes them straight to their room? The plan would fail. They had to check in.
The security guard snapped him out of his thoughts by poking him in the shoulder. “Sir, raise your arms and spread your legs.”
He did so, watching the Westerner as the wand ran up and down his body. A minute later, he was told he could enter the hotel. He walked into the lobby and took a left, toward the reception counter, glancing over his shoulder to the security at the door, trying to see the couriers’ car pull up. What he saw instead caused him to freeze.
The Caucasian from the airplane was now in the security line. Patiently waiting to enter the hotel. Jesus. How the hell did he know where to find me? Options were flitting through his head when the receptionist said, “Sir? Sir? Can I help you?”
“Uhh…yeah. I’m checking in.” He handed her his passport and turned to the right while she tapped on the computer. There, situated at chest height, was his vase. A large, expensive-looking vessel containing real, fresh flowers. The positioning was perfect. The men would leave their baggage on the ground, below the countertop, where the marble would protect it, while their upper bodies would be shredded.
Provided they checked in at all.
He glanced back out the door and was shocked again to see the two CIA men coming through the lobby, led by the escort out front, bypassing the security line. Jesus Christ. If they checked in now, he’d be in the blast radius.
They did so, marching right up to the counter.
The lady helping him asked something else, but he wasn’t listening. He saw one of the couriers pull out his passport and hastily said, “Where’s the bathroom? I have to go.”
“Sir? Sign here and you can use the restroom in your room.”
The clerk helping the CIA men took the first passport in her hand.
Dropping the subterfuge, Lucas snatched his key without signing and fled across the lobby to the far side. He reached the concierge desk, ignoring the stares and watching the receptionist desk.
The clerk opened the passport, and nothing happened for a split second. Then, a violent explosion erupted from the vase. The embedded ball bearings came searing out in a radial arc, decapitating both CIA men and the escort with them. The bodies toppled over, one on top of the other.
The receptionist helping the CIA men had fallen behind the counter. Lucas had no idea of her status. The one who had helped him was shredded from the pottery shards of the back-blast and was shrieking. The orange-covered briefcase was in pristine condition, still standing next to the fallen men. Lucas ran to the site of the blast, as if to aid the downed men. When he crossed back through the lobby, he saw the unknown from the plane, fighting his way through security. And staring right at Lucas.
Lucas had planned on simply taking the case to his room, using the confusion of the blast to cloak his activities. He’d been in many such situations and knew that the initial response was always fractured, and nobody would question him walking away with the bag. They’d all be either catatonic because of the attack or rendering first aid to the fallen. Now, though, there was one man who was neither and was slicing his way through the crowds like wind through a dandelion.
Need to get out of here. Into the city. Then back to the airport.
Lucas snatched the handle of the dip-pouch container and took off running, away from the elevators and toward the stairs at the back of the hotel.
79
We were at the roundabout a block from the hotel, within striking distance of ending this whole thing, when Decoy called.
“Explosive device just went off inside the lobby. I’m working my way through the usual hysteria and some tight-ass security. I’ll give you a call when I get inside.”
Dammit. That son of a bitch. “How bad? How many dead?”
“I can’t see shit. I’m still outside the security barrier, and the place has definitely turned into-”
I heard nothing but shouting through the line. “Decoy, you still there?”
“I got Lucas. I can see him! I can see him through the door…get the fuck out of my way…he’s got the case, and he’s moving to the back of the hotel…”
I heard muffled cursing and the shuffling of bodies, then what sounded like someone slapping leather. Decoy came back on, a little out of breath. “He’s going out the back. I can’t get to him. Too much bullshit panic going on. There’s a bunch of Barney Fife security guys, and I can’t be sure someone doesn’t have a gun. I can keep pushing, but I might get myself killed.”
“We’ll track him. Take your time and get inside. Give me an assessment of the damage. I need to know who he killed. What he’s done to the peace summit.”
I looked at the map. The Four Seasons was right up against the ocean. If Lucas headed out the back, he was pinned in. He could go either north or south, running parallel to the coast, but unless he started swimming, that was it. North led to the diplomatic area, which meant security. South led to the Sheraton resort, and beyond that, the Corniche promenade. He’s going south.
I called Brett behind us. “Stop where you are and dismount. Lucas is probably on the grounds of the Sheraton by now. We’re at the Trade Center Roundabout. Jennifer’s going to let Knuckles and me off here. You take the south end of the resort. Get into the park. We’ll box him in.”
“What do you want me to do if I find him?”
“Just get eyes on and call. We’ll get to you for the takedown, but if he starts heading into the city before we can close, he’s your target. Keep him on the coast. If he gets across the Corniche road, we’ll never find him again.”
Lucas sprinted down the circular steps to the restaurant below, then plowed through the throng that had gathered, all staring at one another as if their neighbor could explain the explosion, the women holding their hands to their mouths. He reached the back door and burst out of it like a horse at the Preakness. He ran flat out for about a minute, then slowed when he realized he was not being chased.
He thought about his options. First and foremost, he needed to get into the city. He’d seen the Caucasian at the front door, but not the black man. There was at least one unaccounted for on the loose. Which meant there were probably more.
He racked his brain, trying to remember who else had been in first class with him. It was unlikely the men had forces already on the ground, so whoever was after him would have either been on the same plane or flying in behind them. It had only been about thirty minutes since he left the airport, so that left the plane he was on-at least for now.
Removing the couriers and taking into account the two men he knew were after him, he could come up with four other men. Say just one at the front door right now, that leaves five on the loose. Five. And he could recognize only one. But they would have to cover both avenues of escape, so he was facing three at most. Which way? North was the quickest route back into the city. If he went fast, he could probably beat whatever box they were setting up. But it was also the diplomatic quarter. He had no idea who the men chasing him were and didn’t know if they had contacts with other government agencies. He didn’t w
ant to risk the proximity of the various embassies within the quarter, all stuffed with security. South was longer, but he could get inside the Sheraton resort and really move out.
He ripped the tangerine fabric off the briefcase, stuffed it in a trash can, and began jogging along the water toward the huge pyramid of the Sheraton Hotel. He entered the gardens surrounding the pool and hugged the shoreline, acting as if he were a guest.
He saw nothing out of the ordinary. No men speaking into their sleeves, moving rapidly, or other telltale signs. He reached the far side of the garden and was faced with a manmade lagoon. It had a single footpath extending out into the bay before rejoining the shore farther south at the base of the Sheraton park. It was a barren kill zone. If he got on it, they could block both ends and he’d be done.
His other option was to enter the hotel proper, something he didn’t want to do. He had no idea if the Four Seasons and the Sheraton maintained communication with each other and didn’t want to enter another security zone. No choice.
Before opening the door, he put his hand to the window to cut the glare, peeking inside. The hallway was packed with people streaming out of a ballroom. He caught a commotion deep in the interior. He placed his other hand next to his head and saw Pike Logan barreling toward him, knocking people out of the way like a thousand pounds of bull ripping loose in a rodeo.
He snapped his head back. Jesus Christ. What the fuck is he doing here? Without thought, he leapt onto the walkway for the artificial lagoon and started sprinting like his life depended on it. And he now knew it did.
80
I ran through the lobby of the Sheraton, looking for the quickest route to the back door. Some sort of convention had just taken a break, and a steady stream of people was flowing out from the main ballrooms, clogging up the hallway. Knuckles took a right and shouted, “This way.”