The Devil's Ransom, page 25
“You’d better hope so. Your life depends on it. Who is this fuck?”
Drago looked at his friend held by the man called Ghulam and said, “His name is Bogdan. He’s just the caretaker. He’s the guy who does the contract for our places. I scout them and he pays for them, coordinating for Wi-Fi and other things. We let him live here. He knows nothing.”
Shakor pointed at the body down the stairs and said, “Who’s he?”
“He’s a coder. Or was a coder. He built stuff for Pushka to use. When he designed the code, he was done. Pushka and Branko did the work after that.”
Shakor said, “Okay, then who can contact Branko?”
Drago shrank against a wall and said, “None of us. He contacts us, not the other way around. He pays our way, and we do what he says. We can’t contact him.”
Then a phone rang.
Shakor heard it and said, “Whose cell is that?”
Drago looked at Bogdan, and they both shook their head. Shakor went to the stairwell and the sound got louder. He ran down it, flopped the body over, and found a smartphone. He ran back up the stairs, held it in Drago’s face, and said, “Answer this.”
Drago took it, but before he could hit the talk button, Shakor snatched it away from him, saying, “Wait a minute. You’re supposed to be in Split.”
He turned to Bogdan and said, “You talk.”
Bogdan hit the call button and began speaking in Serbian. Shakor smacked him in the head, then snatched the phone, putting his hand over the microphone, saying, “Speak English.”
“You want me to speak English? He’ll know something’s going on.”
Shakor paced a bit, then said, “Is it Branko?”
Bogdan hesitated, then said, “Yes, it’s him, and the longer you hold that phone, the more he’s going to wonder what’s going on.”
Shakor handed the phone back and said, “You’d better not tell him what’s waiting here.”
Bogdan nodded, but Shakor realized he had no control now. No idea what he was saying, and he knew that Bogdan would do whatever it took to live.
Then he had an idea. Yes, he was Taliban, but he’d also lived in the West. He understood technology.
Bogdan started talking and Shakor put a gun to his head, saying, “Tell him to hold on, because someone is at the door. Tell him that now.”
Bogdan did, then put the phone on mute, looking at Shakor, saying, “What is this about?”
Shakor pulled out his own smartphone, put it on a voice recording, and said, “Keep talking, but when it’s done, I’m going to translate it. If you scare him off, I will skin you alive.”
Chapter 49
We reconsolidated at the hotel and did a quick after-action review. The bottom line was that nobody knew anything more than what we’d seen. There was a guy with a suppressed weapon in a country that didn’t even allow firearms, which meant he was something other than just a friend helping a friend. Something else was going on, but I’ll be damned if I knew what it was. All I knew was that the longer we stayed, the farther away he got.
We packed up and I called the Taskforce for a ping, getting one right in the middle of the Adriatic Sea, telling me they were on a ferry. Which was fine with me. He could run, but he couldn’t hide.
We fled the hotel as fast as we could, going down to the ferry terminal. I spent thirty minutes tapping my foot, knowing that those guys were on the boat before ours, feeling like I was on The Amazing Race. Eventually our ferry appeared, and we headed across the water, running to our cars when it docked just like a contestant on the TV show.
We started driving to the mainland, and I called the Taskforce to ping the phone again. Creed was probably in bed, but someone was monitoring the phone, because Taskforce operations were 24/7. I got a guy I didn’t know, saying things that would cause him to die a slow death.
“Pike, I’ve been told to hold up on the next ping.”
Incredulous, I said, “Who is this?”
“Hey, I’m just the guy manning the net right now. I have my orders just like you do.”
I gritted my teeth, saying, “Where’s Creed?”
“He’s asleep. I was given my orders after he left.”
“By who?”
“George Wolffe.”
I looked at my watch and knew it was closing in on two in the morning there. Wolffe wasn’t around to fix this.
I said, “You had better give me that ping right now or pray that I die in a plane crash coming home.”
Jennifer glanced at me in alarm, and I shook my head, telling her to keep driving. A new voice came on, and I recognized it. Why George Wolffe was inside Taskforce headquarters at this hour was beyond me.
“Pike, this is Wolffe. The thinking has changed here.”
“Sir? What’s that mean?”
“The president is leaning toward this being a nation-state attack, and that keeping you in the field is a risk that’s not worth the reward. He’s turned off Omega authority.”
That was a head-spinner. I said, “What?”
“You heard me. We have a guy working this for us, grew up in the NSA TAO, then went to the new Cyber Command. He’s saying it’s not Dark Star, and that their declaration is a smoke screen to protect the country. He’s going to find out who did this, giving the president some evidence for retaliation.”
That didn’t smell right to me. I said, “Why is one guy dictating policy? He ‘used’ to work for the NSA and Cyber. What is NSA and Cyber saying?”
“They don’t know. They’re way behind the eight ball on this. They might have some assessment in a week or two, but they’re risk averse. The president is deferring to this guy.”
I said, “Does that sound right to you? You want me to stand down?”
I heard nothing, then said, “The Russian guy Andrei only wants money. He wouldn’t do this. It’s too big, inviting someone to come for him.”
“That’s what our expert says. You’re proving his point.”
I could tell he wasn’t sold on the president’s assessment and wanted me to convince him to continue. I threw everything against the wall, saying, “But there’s someone else in the mix. The American code-named Sphinx. And there’s the Badr Battalion running around here.”
“Badr Battalion? Who cares about them? And all you’ve got on the American is a code name. No help.”
“Sir, Branko can answer for both. Maybe he’s not involved anymore, but maybe he is. We’re running out of time to stop this thing. Do you want to just roll over and find out it was from the same group, when you could have stopped it? Fuck the president.”
I heard a breath on the phone, expecting a rebuke at my statement. What I heard was, “Can you operate without your usual signature?”
“What’s that mean?”
“It means I don’t want a bunch of dead bodies every time you go somewhere.”
That was a little aggravating. I said, “Hey, sir, I haven’t done anything like that on this mission. The bodies were from someone else. You sent me on this mission. It’s not my fault people are dead.”
“Answer the question.”
I smacked my fist into the dash of our car, causing Jennifer to snap her head toward me. She had no idea what was being said on the other end, but even behind the steering wheel, she knew it wasn’t good. She shook her head, telling me to let it go.
I said, “Yes, sir, I can do that.”
“Then get on it.”
I looked at Jennifer, and she saw my grin. Into the phone I said, “So I’m on my own on this one?”
Wolffe laughed and said, “No, it’ll be my ass on the chopping block this time. Just don’t put it there.”
I said, “You got it. Give me the geolocation.”
He passed the phone to the computer guy, and I got a ping. It was now at a restaurant in a place called Mali Ston, a small town on the water about twenty minutes away. Really close.
I passed the grid to the team as Jennifer drove, saying, on the net, “Here’s the last known location. We’re going to close in and assess.”
Jennifer passed the town called Ston, with a giant wall made of rock encircling it, something from medieval times, and we continued for another few minutes, reaching Mali Ston—meaning little Ston, like a sister village—with the wall following us the entire way.
Knowing Jennifer had already done the research, I said, “What’s up with that wall?”
She said, “It’s the largest fortification still in existence here. Basically, back in the day, they were afraid of getting attacked, so they built a wall, like China did. It reaches from the town of Ston to Mali Ston, protecting the harbors of both. And it’s pretty cool. Want to walk it?”
I laughed and said, “I don’t think they’d let us.”
She said, “No, that’s the whole point of its upkeep. You can walk from Mali Ston to Ston. All the way from one to the other, along a fortification steeped in history, but like everything here, it’s full of stairs. Not sure you want to follow me up them.”
I looked to see if she was kidding, but she wasn’t. She just loved old shit. I said, “I’d love to follow you up the stairs, but maybe later. Let’s get our guy first.”
She gave me her death stare at my twisting her words, and we pulled into a small parking lot next to the water, with only a single Land Rover in it, which had to be our target. A decrepit stone bastion was to the front, looking like it still wanted to fight but had long ago lost the ability. A map at the edge of the parking lot gave us the historical background, with restaurants stretching out along the intercoastal waterway. This place was older than our entire country.
I studied the stone crumbling from the bastion, wondering who’d built it. I pretended I wasn’t really turned on by ancient stuff like Jennifer, but I was. Seeing the bastion made me wonder, as a military guy, who’d used it and how they’d faired. How many men had died defending this port?
And how many more might today.
Chapter 50
I exited the car and saw Knuckles approaching. I had the team gather around me, saying, “Okay, here we go. This is our last chance. Brett and Veep are burned from the gunfight earlier. I’m not. Neither are Knuckles and Koko. Brett, Veep, I want you out here in case they leave. You’re the vehicle follow.”
I pointed at the Land Rover and said, “That’s got to be their vehicle. Get a beacon on it. Knuckles, you go long beyond the restaurant. Koko and I are going in. If I sight him, I’ll call. From there, we’ll work it out.”
Veep said, “What if he comes back out here to the parking lot and we get a chance at him? If he’s clean?”
“Take his ass down.”
Brett said, “We have sanction for that?”
I turned to him and said, “No, we don’t. Well, we do, but it’s because George Wolffe is hanging his butt out on a sling. The National Command Authority no longer thinks this guy is worth the effort. I convinced Wolffe that he was because I believe he is. We have about a day and a half before those people die in space. And this guy can solve it, so take him down, no matter what.”
Brett said, “The NCA doesn’t believe in this mission? And you want to continue?”
I glanced at Jennifer, then at him and said, “Yeah, that about sums it up.”
He said, “Why?”
“Because there are Americans about to die. I don’t give a shit that they’ve paid to be there. I don’t care that they’re all rich fucksticks—which they are. At the end of the day, they’re Americans. That’s why.”
He smiled and said, “Well, they paid for the trip. Sounds like they’re reaping what they sowed. Not sure that’s worth our team.”
I said, “One of them didn’t. One of them is just a small-town schoolteacher from Arkansas. Her flight was paid by the owner of the company for his own bullshit sense of worth, but she’s not going to die on my watch. She’s up there right now, and she’s coming home.”
I said it more forcefully than I should have. Brett saw my commitment and said, “Okay, Pike. I’m in.”
I glanced at Jennifer, then Veep. They were both looking back at me like I had a screw loose. If the National Command Authority didn’t believe in the mission, why were we doing it? But Knuckles knew why. The men in the NCA put their pants on one leg at a time, just like we did, and sometimes they were wrong.
He stepped in, saying, “You have the assignments. Let’s execute. This is for Carly. She sacrificed her life for Jahn. The least we can do is sacrifice our career for the schoolteacher.”
That meant more than anything I could have said. I nodded at him, and we broke up, Knuckles heading to a stairwell to get above our location. Jennifer and I went down low, next to the water and the last known location of the phone. We found three restaurants right next to each other, all with outside dining that was ubiquitous here in Croatia. We passed the first one slowly, looking, and didn’t see our target. We hit the second one, and Jennifer pinched my arm.
There he was. Branko, otherwise known as Doctor Evil in my book. He was sitting with two men who looked like they’d just come from a safari, with loose-fitting shirts and pants full of pockets. Both were hard men, and I instinctively knew one of them had held the pistol in Korcula. Unlike Branko, they most definitely weren’t computer geeks. The man across from Branko locked eyes with me and I glanced away. But he’d seen me. Seen something.
I pulled Jennifer to the menu as if we were wondering where to eat, and said on the net, “Target acquired. Stand by.” I gave the team the restaurant we were in and waited on the hostess to give us a seat.
We were led to a two-seat table on the other side of the patio. Jennifer ordered a giant bowl of mussels, which was apparently the thing in Mali Ston, and we settled in to see what would happen. We didn’t have to wait long.
Before our food was even brought out, Branko and the other two men stood up. On the net, I said, “Veep, Blood, get ready. They’re on the move.”
Only they didn’t head back to the parking lot. They went to a stairwell on the left of the restaurant, heading deeper into the little village. I said, “Knuckles, Knuckles, they’re coming to you on foot. They aren’t going to the car. Track them and if we get a shot, let’s take Branko.”
“ROE?”
Which was a big question. Wolffe was putting his neck in a noose to allow me to operate, which meant I couldn’t just start a gunfight then claim self-defense, although I was sure that would work. Both of the guys shadowing Branko were definitely pipe hitters.
I reversed course, saying, “Just track them. No overt acts. See where they go. Find a bed-down location and we’ll take it from there.”
Veep came on, saying, “Want us to come in?”
“No. We’ll handle it. Keep your position. I’m pretty sure they’ll be headed back to their car.”
Knuckles said, “They’re walking to the wall. They aren’t going to another place here.”
I said, “Wall? You mean the wall that’s a tourist attraction?”
“Yeah. They just bought tickets and they’re headed up it. Should I follow?”
I smiled at Jennifer and said, “Looks like you get your wish.”
On the net, I said, “No, don’t burn yourself. That thing is a straight linear target. Jennifer and I will take it. A couple on a date, not some strange hippy all by himself.”
I heard him laugh, then, “Better get here soon. They’re moving out.”
I threw some money on the table, gave our waitress an excuse, and we left the restaurant, threading up the ancient stairs into the village. We found a sign pointing the way to the fortification, continuing higher. We met Knuckles right outside the ticket counter.
He said, “No idea what they’re doing, but they’re moving out with a purpose.”
If I’d had any sense, I would have thought through the problem set. Instead I said, “We’ll keep an eye on them. Get some chow and rotate Veep and Blood through a restaurant. When they come back, we want to be able to move.”
He nodded, and I went to the counter, paying something like ten bucks to walk my ass off on a giant set of stairs. Jennifer and I started climbing, and I muttered under my breath, causing her to laugh. I said, “Just stay in front of me. That’ll keep me moving.”
That shut her humor down.
The wall was exactly like you’d expect: a stone hunk of stairways leading up and over the mountain between Mali Ston and Ston. Within seconds I was sweating like I was in a gym, wondering why anyone would do this. More importantly wondering why our targets would be walking the route.
Mali Ston disappeared behind us before I finally saw our quarry. They were about a hundred meters ahead of us and steadily trudging uphill. I could see the break-off for the Ston portion of the wall about a half kilometer away. I hoped they were sweating like me. The only good thing was there was nowhere for them to deviate. They were on this wall just like I was, and there was no reason to suspect us, as plenty of tourists were doing the same thing.
They kept climbing and Jennifer said, “What do you suppose this is all about? Why take him on a walk?”
“I don’t know. If I were to guess, they’re going to meet someone on the wall for some reason. Either way, it’ll be worth our effort to see. We locate another target and it just opens up opportunity.”
We threaded higher and higher, reaching a turnoff to a fortress at the crest of the ridge, but our targets ignored it, heading downhill to the village of Ston.
I said, “Shit. Guess I was wrong. Must be something in this town.”
We finally hit the downhill portion and I picked up the pace, saying, “We’ve got to be on them when they exit.”
We closed the gap, a family of four in between us and them. I saw them disappear into the modern building that controlled access to the wall. Two stories tall, it was made of burnished metal and stained wood, looking like a miniature ski chalet in Switzerland. I gave them a chance to get to the lower level, then scooted past the family, dragging Jennifer behind me. I entered the top floor, seeing a ticket office, the air-conditioning immediately making me feel my sweat. I held up, letting them exit and looking down the stairwell as they did so. When they were gone, I motioned to Jennifer and we went down the stairs.
