It would be midnight before all the assets were in place, and West had a decision to make. Should he send the two closest agents in once they arrived, or wait until all his men were in position? Naturally, he wanted it over as soon as possible, but Driscoll was proving to be a slippery fish. She’d outplayed him up to this point, and his superiors were not blessed with infinite patience.
No, best to wait and hit her with everything at his disposal.
Well, almost everything.
“What’s Huff’s position?”
Pearson pinpointed the location of the operative’s cell phone. “He’s currently over Baton Rouge, Louisiana.”
Perfect. By the time he landed in D.C., Driscoll and her cohorts would be nothing but bad memories, and West would have done it without the aid of the arrogant Huff.
“Find out what flight he’s on and the scheduled arrival time. I’ll call him when he lands.”
He was tempted to call Huff at that moment and let him know that he was heading in the wrong direction. West could imagine him sitting impotently in cattle class while the action unfolded thirty thousand feet below him.
West decided to stick to the plan and update Huff once he was on the ground. The lunatic might hijack the flight, or do something equally crazy, and it would be ultimately more satisfying to be able to call and say the mission was complete, thanks anyway.
A smile cracked West’s face for the first time in days, but it was short-lived. One person in particular wouldn’t appreciate being kept in the dark, and that was the man he answered to. West left the control center and made the call.
“What’s your plan to deal with them?” the voice asked after West had briefed him.
“I’ve got sixteen men converging on their location. We should be ready to take them down just after midnight.”
“Fine, but be discreet. I won’t be happy if I have to fight to keep a pitched battle out of the news.”
The call was over, but the thinly veiled threat lingered.
How the hell do you take down a highly trained killer and a combat veteran without causing a scene? Plead with them in a hushed voice to surrender?
What had seemed a straightforward task was now growing increasingly complex. The strike would have to be surgical, which required detailed preparation.
West walked back into the control room. “I want schematics of the Beechwood Hotel and everything in the local area.”
Knowing the layout of the building would be a good start. His team would be able to cover all the exits and determine the best entry points. They carried suppressed weapons, and if they could get a jump on the targets it should play out quietly.
There was little else he could do to mitigate the risk of an all-out battle.
“Sir, it appears the Beechwood is in the heart of the red-light district. Midnight will probably be their busiest period.”
“Well, that’s just great . . .”
Another obstacle thrown in his path. West was beginning to wonder if the gods had something against him.
“We’ll have to keep the teams in position and hit Driscoll once the area’s quiet,” he replied. “Let’s plan for a four a.m. insertion.”
All he could do now was hope the situation remained stable for the next ten hours. If Driscoll and the others were still in the hotel by the time his teams were in position, it would be a simple matter of waiting for the right moment.
Something told him he wasn’t going to be that lucky.
CHAPTER 31
The Hard Rock Café was jumping.
Eva fought her way to the bar as Guns N’ Roses exploded from the speakers, and when she caught the bartender’s eye she ordered a loaded burger and a mineral water. His look told her she was out of place among the predominantly young crowd, and Eva felt the same way.
After landing at Atlanta Airport, she’d taken a taxi straight to the venue, touching up her old-woman makeup on the way. She’d have to continue wearing the disguise until she had a chance to buy some new clothes, but first things first. The British operatives she’d hired would be here within a couple of hours, and as soon as they arrived they’d all set off for Louisville to pick up Colback and Farooq.
After that, she expected things to get interesting.
Anton West was her first target. If he’d been in touch with the ESO, he would have a contact number. That should be enough for Farooq to trace the owner.
Hopefully.
If the ESO had the power to prevent their numbers being recorded in government databases, they would probably have other security measures in place. But then again, she’d never expected it to be easy. Taking on an entity that had unlimited resources at its disposal was suicidal at best, but the alternative—sitting around waiting for someone to put a bullet in her brain—was even less appealing.
Eva found a booth and used the maps app on her phone to look up the town Anton West called home. She’d already ruled out a strike on his place of work: it was bound to be guarded, and she didn’t want to announce herself with a vicious firefight. She wanted West alive—if only initially—so it made most sense to hit him at home or in transit.
The township of Olney was in Montgomery County, Maryland, twenty miles north of D.C. West’s house was one of just eight on a quiet leafy road near the country club. The surrounding houses were set back from the road, all of them with trees out front, which would help shield her and the team from nosy neighbors. The next step would be to set up reconnaissance on the place and determine the best time to strike.
Her food arrived and Eva tucked in, her eyes on the exits. She’d scoped out the place before flying to the UK, to know her options in case anyone suspicious entered the bar.
Eva managed to finish her meal without being accosted, then took her phone out again and pretended to be interested in it while waiting for her hired help to arrive.
About forty minutes early, two men entered the bar. They didn’t seem the Special Forces type. One was small with short blond hair; the other was much taller and carried a little too much around the waist. She turned her attention back to the door as the newcomers disappeared into the crowd, hoping her new recruits would get there without any issues. There was no reason to think they would be stopped at the airports, but flights often got delayed or canceled. With no contingency plan in place, she would be forced to contact Harvey and get him to pass on revised instructions, but that would be a last resort. The CIA staff at the US embassy in London could easily intercept a call to his cell phone, so she’d have to come up with an alternate means of reaching him.
Eva almost jumped when the blond-haired man she’d seen earlier plopped down in the seat opposite her.
“Emilie.” He smiled.
Eva slowly put her phone back in the purse on her lap and wrapped her fingers around the grip of her pistol. The second man came over and stood next to her, blocking her escape.
She saw two possibilities. They were her new assault force, or West had somehow tailed her and sent them to kill her.
Part of her wished it were the latter.
“Andrew sent us,” said the smaller, younger one. Up close, he looked a little older than he’d first appeared. Laughter lines creased his eyes and forehead, and he had the air of someone who’d been around the block a few times.
“My name’s Sonny,” he said, holding out his hand. “This is Len.”
Eva was tempted to walk away and write off the money, but that would only leave her at square one. Still, that might be a better choice than going into battle with this pair.
She ignored Sonny’s handshake and pushed herself to the edge of the seat, waiting for the big one to get out the way. He duly obliged, and they followed her out to the parking lot.
“Which one’s yours?” Eva asked.
Sonny pressed a button on his key and the lights on a nondescript Ford Sedan flashed twice. She claimed the front passenger seat and Sonny got in beside her.
“Put these on,” Eva said, and handed them each a b
aseball cap. “Not the perfect disguise, but enough to obscure your features if we run past any traffic cameras. The longer we can go without them identifying you, the better.”
Sonny put the cap on and pulled it down over his eyes. “Where to?” he asked.
“Louisville,” she told him. “Head north and follow the signs for I-75.”
Sonny started the engine and pulled onto the street. “Is something wrong?” he asked. “You don’t seem pleased to see us.”
That’s an understatement.
“I was expecting . . . someone fresh out of the army. When did you serve?”
“Let me see now,” Sonny said in a quavering voice. “Twenty-five, thirty years ago? It’s hard to recall when you get to my age.”
“Ignore him,” Len said. “He always gets cranky around naptime.”
Great . . . Harvey sent me a pair of comedians.
“We left the SAS eleven years ago,” Len continued. “A friend started his own security company and we’ve been working for him since.”
“A decade doing BG work?” Eva asked.
“Some of the men contract as bodyguards, yes, but Sonny and I are part of the management team. We have a facility outside London where we put new recruits through their paces. It has an assault course, shooting range—you name it—and we only accept the best.”
“So, you’ve been behind a desk for ten years?” What was Andrew thinking?
“Not exactly,” Len said. “We’ve been in the field too.”
Probably grazing in it, you fat fuck. “Tell me about Russia. Andrew said you pulled him from prison.”
“It was Tagrilistan and he was being held by Russian separatists. We went in and extracted him.”
“So I heard, but I want details. How did you—”
She stopped herself as Tagrilistan suddenly registered with her. She kept up with the goings-on in the former Soviet states, as next to the Middle East they’d been her most frequent deployment destinations. She’d carried out a mission in Ukraine a couple of years earlier, and Tagrilistan was in much the same situation. “When was this?”
“About eighteen months ago,” Len said.
The timeline fit. In January the previous year, she’d read a report about sixty-plus Russian soldiers being killed by unknown forces. Western leaders had denied any involvement, suggesting the local Tagrilistan army had been responsible. The identity of the aggressors had never been established.
“That was you?”
“Us and three others,” Len confirmed.
“What? Five of you took on the Russians?”
“Four of us, actually,” Sonny said. “Mac was just there to fly the chopper.”
Eva was willing to admit she’d misjudged them. Anyone with the balls to take on a Russian battalion wouldn’t think twice about facing the ESO’s hired guns. Perhaps Andrew had picked the right men after all.
Sonny looked over at Eva. “Now that you know a little about us, would you mind telling us what this mission involves?”
With a seven-hour drive ahead of them, Eva decided to start at the beginning.
CHAPTER 32
The Beechwood appeared to be the only building with more than two stories for a dozen miles in all directions. A sign with the hotel’s name in neon lights stretched from the fifth floor down to the first, and a couple of letters looked to have burned out years earlier.
Willard Eckman, designated Eagle Two, drove past the building a couple of hundred yards, then made a right and parked up in the lot of a body shop. The cars of Eagles One and Four were already there, as were a couple of others. Eckman got out to introduce himself to the newcomers.
“I’m Eagle Two. I’ll be coordinating the takedown.”
The eight new men had traveled in four SUVs, and when the two men of Eagle Three arrived, they’d be sixteen strong. Eckman warned them against contacting Nest on open comms, then designated them Rook One through Rook Four.
It was two in the morning, two hours before the planned strike. Eckman intended to use the time productively.
“Has anyone done a walk-around?” he asked.
“I have,” Danny Castleton of Eagle Four said. “There’s a strip club seventy yards to the left of the hotel and a car dealership a hundred away to the right. Even if things get noisy, it shouldn’t attract too much attention.”
Eckman had been thinking the same thing, but it was the aftermath that concerned him. West had ordered him not to leave a pile of bodies in his wake.
“What about the hotel itself?”
“Five floors, two main exits. The front door, another at the rear, and there’s a fire exit feeding each floor. The area behind the hotel’s secured by a chain-link fence topped with razor wire. Just one external CCTV camera covering the back entrance.”
Eckman produced a tablet computer and placed it on the hood of his car. On the screen were the building’s blueprints, rendered in 3-D. “As you enter the building, the stairs are on the left. There’s an elevator facing you, and between them is the reception desk, behind which is an office and toilet. On each of the top four floors there are twelve rooms, six facing the front and six at the rear. The fire exits are here, halfway down each hallway, all leading to the same external fire escape.”
“Any idea which room they’re in?” a member of Rook Two asked. “Or do we just clear each room until we find them?”
“I plan to find out,” Eckman said. “Parker, if anyone looks like they need to get laid, it’s you. I want you to go to the strip joint, pick up a girl, and take her to the hotel. Tell the receptionist your friends said they’d be staying there and find out which room they’re in.”
“Roger that.” Parker grinned and began jogging in the direction of the Diamond Pussycat Club.
Eckman saw him emerge ten minutes later with a woman on his arm, and the pair walked into the Beechwood. Twenty minutes passed, and Eckman was growing worried, when Parker appeared at the door and trotted over to them.
“What took you so long?”
“Didn’t want to seem suspicious. If I took her to the hotel, asked about Driscoll, and then left, it would have looked strange. So I took her to a room.”
“Are you fucking serious? We’re here to take down a highly trained killer and you bump uglies with a ten-dollar whore?”
“It was more like fifty dollars, and another thirty for the room. You think I can expense it?”
Eckman was tempted to put a bullet between Parker’s eyes, but Castleton stepped in.
“He’s got a point, Will. Who’s gonna remember another john?”
Eckman calmed down a little, but vowed to deal with Parker once the mission was over.
“I wore a rubber, if that makes a difference.”
Castleton slapped Parker on the side of the head before he could dig himself any deeper.
“At least tell me you got the room number,” growled Eckman.
“Room 411, far end of the corridor on the right, facing the street. Only, it’s just Colback and Naser. The guy said they arrived alone.”
That was an unexpected development.
Eckman dialed West. “It’s me.”
“What is it?”
“We have a problem.”
Anton West acknowledged Eckman’s report and ordered him to await further instructions.
What are you up to, Driscoll?
After going to so much trouble to rescue Colback and enlist Naser’s help, she wouldn’t abandon them now.
Or would she?
Driscoll’s brother had been part of Colback’s unit, so her reason for teaming up with the ex-soldier might be purely personal. If she had been simply looking for the reason the former colleagues had been marked for death, she might already have everything she needed. If that were the case, she would have no further use for the two men in the hotel room.
In this business, there was no time for personal attachments. Did Driscoll feel the same way?
No, that didn’t add up. Naser had stolen millions fr
om the CIA accounts. Why choose to hang out in a sleazy hotel in Louisville with that kind of cash at his fingertips? And why would he still be accessing the CIA network if they already had everything they needed? Was it to keep tabs on the investigation, or were they still looking for answers?
They were waiting for Driscoll to return, he was sure of it. The question was, when would she come back?
“Those hotels take payment in advance,” West told Eckman. “Find out how long they’re planning to stay.”
“Roger that.”
“Sir,” Pearson said, “Eagle Three is in position. That’s everyone on site.”
“Good.” Sixteen against two. Hardly fair, but life was often like that. Colback and Naser were going nowhere, and if Driscoll were to make an appearance, then all the better.
“They’re due to check out at ten in the morning,” Eckman said over the phone.
Decision time. Take them out now, or wait for Driscoll to show?
Colback had always been the main target, and taking him and Naser out of the equation would make things simpler. For one, Driscoll would no longer have access to the databases of the intelligence agencies, leaving her blind.
On the flipside, if he ordered his men to go in now, someone might report a firefight and that would mean police on the scene when Driscoll showed up. Which would only scare her off and make her more vigilant.
Prudence dictated he play it safe—wait for her to turn up, then take them all out—but he had no guarantee she’d show. They might have arranged to meet somewhere else, in which case his men would end up trying to tail their quarry again. He also had to keep in mind that his superiors were becoming increasingly frustrated with his lack of success. Taking out Colback and Naser would appease them to some degree; he could then focus on Driscoll. Better still, he could take the pair alive and torture Driscoll’s location out of them.
“Hit them at four,” West told Eckman. “But take them alive.”
CHAPTER 33
“Nice neighborhood,” Sonny quipped as Len Smart followed Eva’s instructions and pulled up outside the derelict-looking building.
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