The Devil's Ransom, page 14
She looked at Brett, then back at me, saying nothing. I said, “What?”
She looked at Brett again and said, “He’s black. We haven’t seen a single black person here. He’s going to stand out. He’ll be burned with one turn of the target.”
She looked at him and said, “I’m sorry.”
I didn’t know what to say about that. Brett Thorpe was one of the best operators I’d ever served with—a killer with an instinct that was above reproach—but Jennifer had a point. I thought about how to respond, and was saved by Brett himself.
He said, “She’s right. I can follow that guy to a single point of entry, but if he moves again, I’m done. Especially if he has some countersurveillance in motion. You guys can put on a different hat or coat, but I can’t put on a different skin.”
I honestly thought the entire thing was bullshit because I respected his skills greatly, but the real world didn’t care about diversity, especially when it came to killing. I said, “You sure about that?”
He laughed and said, “Yeah. The next mission we do will probably be in Soweto. When that happens, you can repay me by staying in the hotel.”
I smiled, him reminding me once again about the sacrosanct worth of our team. I said, “Okay, okay. It’s Veep and Jennifer on the follow. It’s getting late. If they’re going out, it’ll be soon. Let’s go.”
We left the hotel after lunchtime, going toward the target, walking down a park that spanned the length between the lower level and the upper level, nobody saying anything. The park itself was crowded with families, most out enjoying the weather. If I hadn’t been working a problem, I would have enjoyed it.
The road we were on ended at a large square with a statue of some guy on a horse holding a sword, the front of the square bounded by public trolleys going left and right. This was the beginning of the upper level, and you could readily see the difference. The roads turned into cobblestone alleys, laced with bars and cafés as far as the eye could see, all of the alleys rising to the high ground at the top.
We crossed the square and Jennifer checked her phone, pointing up one narrow thoroughfare lined with umbrellas and tables. We continued on, now walking uphill with me watching the people at the outdoor tables enjoying life, with laughter and the clink of beer mugs permeating the air like some idolized commercial selling a lifestyle. It really made me want to hold up a hand and say, “Hey, I have a better idea. Let’s get some lunch and a beer.”
Instead of breaking a hundred different laws inside this country based on some vague order from an organization that didn’t exist—and clearly didn’t understand what my team had just been through—we could enjoy life, like everyone else seemed to do in the real world. We could become the beer commercial on TV. Happy smiles and success just by opening a bottle.
I knew that wasn’t going to happen, though. I had a mission, and I would execute. Just like the man I was targeted against was trying to do.
We took another narrow alley running perpendicular to the one we were on, walking by a bar named after J. R. R. Tolkien, then entered a park, a huge mural of Gulliver tied to the ground running the length of the building.
I said, “Jenn, you sure you know where you’re going?”
She pointed at an archway spanning a set of steps, appearing to be some city wall from ancient times, saying, “The street is about a hundred meters through that arch.”
We started walking again and Brett called, saying, “Two men just exited the apartment. Pictures on the way.”
Shit.
I hung up, told the team what had transpired, and said, “Two out. Most we can do is check for a third. That’ll be Knuckles and me.”
I pointed to a couple of park benches next to the mural of Gulliver and said, “Let’s give them a chance to clear the building before we continue. Don’t want to burn ourselves this soon without even knowing our target.”
On the one hand, we could probably penetrate the apartment right now and drain it of anything valuable, but that was a risk, and there was no ticking time bomb here. I didn’t want to crack that apartment without having eyes on the people who lived there. If that took three days, then it took three days. I saw no reason to push the issue, but seeing if anybody else was inside was something we could do while we waited.
The pictures came in and I saw two twenty-somethings walking down the hallway, caught midstride like a bad police capture you see when they want “anyone with information to call.”
One was dressed in torn jeans with acne scars and greasy black hair. The other was taller, with reddish hair and thick glasses. I confirmed that everyone had the photos, then called Brett saying, “Knuckles and I are going to penetrate just to see if the apartment’s empty. Radarscope only. Jennifer and Veep are going to find us a place to stage while we play the waiting game.”
I hung up and said, “You guys hear that?”
They nodded and I said, “Okay then, let’s go check it out. Veep, Jenn, find a place to stage where we can sit for a while. Knuckles, prep the radarscope. Right now, all I want to know is if that place is truly empty.”
The radarscope was a small device that looked like a cell phone on steroids, about eight inches long and three inches wide. It was designed to detect movement through walls, even cinder block. It didn’t matter if someone was actually walking around; it could detect the rise and fall of a diaphragm from a person just sitting in a chair.
Knuckles dug through his small knapsack as Jennifer led us to a narrow stairwell with a sign proclaiming mlinski stairs. Why this little footpath had a street name was beyond me, but it was obviously old. We went down it, passing small courtyards and windows, eventually reaching a larger north–south thoroughfare called Radiceva. Jennifer stopped and said, “It’s the next building up on the right.”
I looked the other way, seeing one of the ubiquitous outdoor cafés down the street. I said, “We’ll meet you back there. Be gone about ten minutes.”
She nodded and said, “Don’t do anything stupid.”
I smiled and said, “Not yet. Too early in the game. That’ll come later.”
We separated, with Knuckles and me going to the next building up, stopping at an arched stone doorway leading into the building, a stair landing on the left inside. I put in my earpiece, Knuckles doing the same, and said, “About to make entry. Commo check. Blood/Koko, you got me?”
Knuckles nodded his head, saying he could hear me. Jennifer came on, still hating her callsign, “This is Koko. I have you, Lima Charlie.”
Brett said, “This is Blood. I’ll call when you’re on camera.”
I said, “Okay, breaching now. Give me early warning to anyone coming up.”
We entered, the building looking like it had been constructed sometime in the eighteenth century, if not earlier, the hallways seemingly built when the human race was a lot smaller. We skipped up the stairs two at a time, went past the second landing to the third floor, then proceeded down another narrow hallway, doors on the left and right.
Brett said, “I have you. I see you.”
I held up a thumb, knowing he could see that and saving me from making any noise. We skipped down to the corner room where the hallway took a sharp left. I went down it for early warning and Knuckles pulled out the radarscope. He employed it along the length of the wall like a doctor using a stethoscope, moving it higher and lower as he went along, holding it steady for a minute before placing it in a new position. He was done in under three minutes. He snapped his finger and I returned. He shook his head.
Two minutes later we were back on the street; thirty seconds after that we were sitting with Veep and Jennifer at an outdoor picnic table with an umbrella.
I said, “Apartment is empty. It’s only those two guys.”
Veep said, “Now what?”
“Now we wait for them to return.”
Chapter 26
Jennifer checked her watch, seeing they’d been sitting at the café for a little over two hours. She turned to Pike to suggest they might want to jump to another location when she saw two men walking down the street to the arched entrance of the building. She pointed, and Pike turned around just as the two entered a doorway. The distance was too great to identify them, but Jennifer knew they didn’t need to. Four minutes later Brett called and said, “They’re back. Both in the nest.”
They’d been at the café for about as long as Jennifer thought they logically could without generating questions, so she broached what she was originally going to say: “We should probably find another lily pad. This one is getting hot. Especially since we haven’t been drinking beer like everyone else.”
Pike said, “Probably right.” He looked at his watch and said, “Close to five on a Friday. I’ll be willing to bet they’re going to clean up and head out. Jenn, where are we going?”
She said, “We reposition on the other side of the buildings, back up that stairwell. That pub right next to the arch looked right up your alley, pun intended.”
Pike said, “That Oliver Twist place?”
“Yeah. It’s close enough for me and Veep to interdict, but far enough away to keep us from being burned. This time we can get some dinner to stall. I’m starving.”
Veep said, “Me, too.”
Pike smiled and said, “Sounds good.” They retraced their path, then settled in at the new pub, the waitress bringing them menus. When she was gone, Pike clicked into the net. “Blood, Blood, we’re repositioning to the other side of the buildings. Getting some chow. Keep eyes on the camera. When they leave again, we’re going in.”
Brett came back, saying, “When the hell do I get to eat? I have to sit here and stare at the camera feed twenty-four seven.”
Pike said, “There’s a minibar in the room. I authorize you to eat the Oreos and potato chips.”
The table laughed and they ordered their own food, Jennifer surreptitiously checking out the area with her eyes. Pike said, “What are you looking for?”
She flicked her head to the rear and said, “See that balcony up there? With the tables? That’s the Café A’è. The bar that they supposedly used for the Wi-Fi. The same one we’re using. It’s on the backside of the building they live in.”
Across the table from her, Pike looked at it intently, then said, “Maybe we should have gone there instead of here.”
They had their food delivered, and ten seconds later Brett called, saying, “Targets are on the move. I say again, targets are on the move.”
Jennifer said, “Damn it. Figures.”
Pike said, “Get moving.”
Veep shoved an entire taco in his mouth and stood, saying into his earpiece through the mess in his mouth, “Commo check.”
Pike said, “I got you,” and Jennifer took off behind Veep, going back down the same little stairwell. They reached Radiceva in time to see the targets exit the building and start heading north. They kept them in sight, Jennifer clicking on the net and saying, “I’ve got eyes on. Cleared to breach.”
The two only walked to the next doorway, and then disappeared inside. Veep said, “Shit. We’re going to lose them.”
Jennifer quickened her pace and said, “That’s the entrance to the bar with the Wi-Fi. The balcony I talked about is in the back, on the second floor.”
They reached the door and saw a sign hanging in the entrance proclaiming the A’è bar. Jennifer took Veep’s hand as if they were on a date and they entered a darkened hallway, a runner on the floor and plants hanging from the ceiling. They followed the signs, going up a stairwell that was barely large enough for a single person, then down a hallway, then up another stairwell. It was a maze, with them choosing the wrong hallway once, only to turn around. Eventually they reached another stairwell, this one leading down, and they entered an outdoor terrace, a bar running the length along the building and tables scattered about overlooking the alley below.
Jennifer saw their targets in the corner and pulled Veep to a table on the opposite side, near the stairwell and right up against the balcony wall. They took a seat and Jennifer gave an update, telling Pike where they were and what the targets were doing. He came back with, “Making breach. Keep an eye on them.”
Jennifer looked below them and saw another terrace a floor below, this one with dinner tables, making her wonder how on earth they’d missed the entrance to that. She had seen no signs for a restaurant.
Below that was some sort of garden spilling down the hill to the alley below, full of spices and vegetables. Beyond the garden she could see the Oliver Twist pub they’d come from and the entrance to the tiny stairwell/alley they’d used to get here.
The waitress came over and they ordered a couple of soft drinks, saying they were here for the sunset, giving them ample time to sit and watch.
Pike came on, saying they’d found a laptop and were in the process of cloning it, meaning he needed at least ten minutes to complete. Jennifer knew that Knuckles was now carefully going through the apartment inch by inch, not leaving a trace of his presence.
She glanced over at the target table and saw the dark-haired guy staring at the entrance stairwell. She looked that way and saw two swarthy guys in the doorway. They were dressed like Europeans, but they most definitely weren’t Croatian.
They walked over to the target’s table and sat down. Jennifer could see confusion on the face of the black-haired guy, then fear.
Veep said, “What’s up with that? He looks like he was expecting someone else.”
Jennifer recognized the tension and said, “Get a picture of those two new guys,” then clicked on the net, saying, “Pike, Pike, this is Koko, we have a situation.”
“What’s up? We’re still working here.”
“We have a meeting occurring here, but I don’t think it’s amicable. Just a warning order that I think this is going to go bad.”
“What’s that mean?”
“I think our targets are someone else’s targets and they beat us to the punch.”
She heard him say something into the room, then he came back on, saying, “We’re almost complete. Keep eyes on them and let me know what happens.”
Veep said, “Gun. I see a gun.”
Jennifer heard a muffled pop and recognized it for what it was: a suppressed round. She looked at the table in time to see the red-haired target fall backward out of his chair, then run to the stairwell right behind them, his left leg dragging as if it wasn’t working right. She said, “Get on him. Keep him in sight.”
Veep took off and Jennifer returned to the target table. The black-haired guy from the surveillance photo held up his hands in supplication, then grabbed a bottle on the table and smashed it into the head of the swarthy man across from him, the glass shattering and knocking him to the ground. The second man leapt up, drawing a knife and blocking his escape to the stairwell.
Jennifer saw the black-haired man look wildly left and right, settling on the balcony wall. He ran to it and leapt over like there was a swimming pool underneath him. Jennifer stood up, seeing him lying on the next terrace, having landed on a table with patrons eating. They were wildly gyrating their arms and shouting, pointing at him on the ground. He rolled left and right, holding his side, then jumped up and vaulted the short fence at the edge of the terrace. He landed in the makeshift garden, then slid down the hill.
Jennifer looked at the two men left behind, seeing one holding his head from the beer bottle shot, the other pulling him upright. The first shook off his hands, waving his pistol around, then realized what he was doing. He glanced back at the bar, seeing patrons all shocked at the fight. He shouted something in a language Jennifer didn’t understand, then the two went over the wall themselves, only much more slowly, lowering themselves far enough until they could safely drop to the bottom terrace. Before Jennifer knew it, they were upright and sliding down the garden hill.
Without thinking, she followed them, throwing herself over the wall, holding on for a brief second, her feet seeking purchase in the rough stone. She found it, and she began going hand over hand like a rock climber until she was hanging on the sill at the bottom of the balcony wall, a table below her.
She shouted, “Look out!”
The patrons at the table saw her and leapt back. She dropped, hitting one side of the table and riding it down like she was on a surfboard. Before they could react, she was over the next railing and in the alley running flat out behind the target and the men chasing him.
Chapter 27
Branko pointed to a table midway between the wall of the balcony and the bar, wanting to be in the back, away from the entrance. He sat down and Pushka said, “Who is this guy? And why are we meeting him?”
“He’s a dude I met at Andrei’s place. He was there for something different. We didn’t really talk about it because—you know, Andrei. We just bullshitted a little bit, but you know me. Anyone wants to party, and I’ll go with them.”
Pushka scowled and said, “Every time you bring in some lost puppy you create a risk of compromise.”
The waitress came over with a couple of beers, knowing them on sight. Branko thanked her and made a lame joke, which caused her to force a laugh. After she’d left, Branko said, “Come on. Remember those girls from Slovakia? They were lost puppies, too. This guy is a power player. He might help us in our work. It’s worth it.”
“It’s not going to be worth it. It never is. Remember your ‘cryptocurrency genius’? All he did was fleece us.”
Chagrined, Branko said, “Yeah, well this guy works for Andrei, and he looked like he was powerful, even if he was dressed like a bum. He’s someone we may want to know. You were the one talking about getting out from underneath the yoke of Andrei. Maybe this is it.”
Pushka took a sip of his beer and said, “I’d rather be working that hot girl over there.”
Branko looked where he indicated and saw a woman staring at him, shoulder-length blond hair in a ponytail, wearing what every hiker in Croatia did—Salomon hiking shoes and nylon clothes. She glanced away when he looked at her, leaning over the balcony wall, and he saw her body was like a snake’s, solid muscle all the way through.
