Change of Fortune

by Jana DeLeon

  “Why do you get to go outside?” Gertie asked.

  “Because there’s less chance of you falling into that three-foot hole than the entire canal,” Ida Belle said.

  “You act like that happens all the time,” Gertie said.

  We both stared at her.

  “Fine,” Gertie said. “Go outside. I’ll stay in here and play Candy Crush or count sewer rats or something equally riveting.”

  “Okay, Ida Belle,” I said. “Head out and send a text when you locate the exit. If we haven’t heard in ten minutes, I’ll assume you found it and head out.”

  I finished suiting up while we waited on Ida Belle to signal Gertie that she was in place.

  Found the exit. About thirty yards from building to canal.

  Gertie read the text and I nodded. That was what I’d estimated when I’d looked at the satellite images.

  “Okay,” I said. “It’s going to be easier if I go in headfirst, so I’m going to lean over the side, then I need you to lift my legs up and help me get in. Text Ida Belle once I’m gone.”

  I leaned over the side of the hole, putting as much of my body over as I could to remain balanced, pulled the mask on, and signaled to Gertie. I felt her grab my legs and slowly begin to lift. My weight shifted and I pushed off the side with my arms, diving headfirst into darkness. I clicked on my underwater flashlight and took a couple seconds to get my bearings, which was a bit harder when upside down.

  I saw the bottom of the hole about ten feet down and swam in that direction; the tunnel then made a ninety-degree turn and headed straight for the canal. I was happy to see the width was the same in the tunnel as it was in the opening. I twisted at the bottom and headed into the tunnel, swimming as quickly as the murky water allowed. I couldn’t afford to move too fast and risk injury on an exposed piece of metal or other trash that might have gotten caught inside. If something happened down here, there was no one to rescue me, and my tank was only worth an hour of breathing time.

  The amount of trash collected on the bottom of the tunnel was minimal, making me think a grate was still in place at the end, but I’d brought a small metal saw with me. Given the amount of time the grate would have been submerged, it shouldn’t be difficult to remove. Worst case, I’d have to turn around and go back, then locate and remove the grate from outside the tunnel, in the canal, and hope that no one saw me. Fortunately, if it came down to that, the tunnel was wide enough to allow me to change directions.

  I had been estimating my time as I swam and figured I was drawing close to the end of the tunnel, so I slowed a bit more. The flashlight only allowed me a foot of visibility in the murky water. I didn’t want to collide with the grate or anything that might be lodged in it. About ten seconds later, I saw the end.

  The grate was metal and some of it had completely rusted off, explaining how some of the smaller trash items had gained entry. I stuck my hand through one of the holes and felt the perimeter of the grate. As expected, large bolts held it in place. I pulled the handsaw from my backpack and went to work on the strips of metal. It didn’t take but a couple strokes to cut through each slat, then I pushed the center of the grate loose and it sank below me.

  I eased through the opening, careful not to scratch my body on the edges of the grate, then headed straight for the surface. About fifteen feet up, my head broke the surface of the water and I saw Ida Belle standing next to a stone gate and looking down at me as I drew in a huge breath.

  “A minute twenty,” she said. “It seemed like a long time.”

  I pulled off my mask. “I had to cut off the grate, and I went slower to make sure it was clear. Cut fifteen seconds off of that, at least, and we’re probably good.”

  She nodded and pointed to metal rungs that crept up the side of the cement wall. “The steps are still in place, but I don’t know how sturdy they are.”

  “Not an issue. No one will be using them. The team will enter the water far enough away that they won’t be seen. Head back inside before someone sees you and gets suspicious. Go ahead and start timing me again now.”

  I put my mask back on and let myself sink until I saw the tunnel opening, then I flipped over and headed into the tunnel, my pace faster now that I knew the tunnel was clear. It wasn’t long at all before I twisted onto my back and bent upward to exit. A couple seconds later, my head emerged and I grabbed the sides of the exit hole.

  Ida Belle and Gertie each grabbed an arm and helped hoist me out, and I sat on the side of the hole, removing my gear.

  “One minute three seconds,” Ida Belle said. “You were right on the money.”

  “How was it?” Gertie asked. “Did you see any snakes?”

  “Fortunately, no,” I said.

  “You’re scared of snakes?” Gertie asked.

  “I’m not scared of them,” I said, “but I have no desire to hang out with them. Usually, they hear something large coming and leave, which is just the way I like it.”

  “So you think it will work?” Ida Belle said.

  I nodded. “It’s plenty wide and there are no obstructions. A team could easily drop in a bit down the bank and make the swim no problem.”

  “And a thermal imaging camera won’t pick them up in water?” Gertie asked.

  “Not in the tunnel, and even if they put off a little heat signature in the canal, the person running the camera won’t be looking there. They’ll be scanning inside the building and the landlocked perimeter.”

  “What else do you need to see?” Ida Belle asked.

  “Let’s do a round in the building and get a feel for the layout. I’d also like to take some pictures. Somewhere in here has to be my home base, so I’ll need a room set up for that.”

  “Mattress on floor, camping stove, ice chest, that sort of thing?” Gertie asked.

  “Exactly. Ahmad may have someone check out the tip before he shows up.”

  “You think they’ll come inside to scout?” Ida Belle asked. “That seems risky on their part.”

  “They’ll check for heat signature in the building and then enter when they think I’m not there,” I said. “It’s not a sure thing, but it’s something that has to be considered.”

  Gertie frowned. “If they don’t check, how will they know for sure you’re here? I mean, it could be a homeless person, right?”

  I nodded. “Once I have word that Ahmad’s men are on the ground in New Orleans, I have to make sure they see me enter the building.”

  “You’re going to drive up and go inside?” Gertie asked. “What’s keeping one of them from shooting you then?”

  “For one, because Ahmad would kill any of his employees who took his glory. And if Ahmad’s men are on sight, mercenaries won’t risk the job because they don’t want him as an enemy.”

  “You think they won’t,” Ida Belle said.

  I blew out a breath. “Guys, I know the risks, and yes, there’s a lot of them. There are a lot of unknowns. There’s a lot of dependence on people acting rationally, and I’m aware more than most that terrorists and the type of people that terrorists employ aren’t always thinking long term. But no matter when or how this goes down, it’s going to have a lot of risk. There’s no way around that. Not given the man who wants me dead.”

  “If I thought it was possible,” Gertie said, “I’d tell you to change everything—your facial structure, your name, your location—and just disappear. Even if it meant we never saw you again, I could live with that as long as I knew you were safe.”

  Ida Belle nodded, and I felt my chest constrict because I knew they both meant every word Gertie had said. If the situation were reversed, I would feel the same way. Although it would hurt like heck to never see them again, knowing they were safe would be enough. Still, all it did was reinforce that what I was doing was the right call. This limbo that I’d been living in had to stop. It was affecting more lives than just my own.

  “If there were another option,” I said, “I promise you I would take it. But there’s just not. At
least, none that is acceptable to me.”

  “Then let’s finish up here,” Ida Belle said. “So you can get home and review everything, then speak to your people. I know they’re used to putting these things together quickly, but they still need some time to do it correctly.”

  “And we definitely want their best effort,” Gertie said. “I mean, I’m ready to shoot whoever needs shooting but I’ve only got two hands.”

  I stuffed my wet gear back in the duffel bag and hefted it up. “I’ll drop this in the entry upstairs and we can finish exploring. This warehouse is fairly large, so lots of options for placement.”

  “When you canvass these buildings, what are you looking for, exactly?” Ida Belle asked.

  “Everything, really,” I said. “I’m looking for the most logical point of entry—and by that I mean logical by Ahmad’s standards, not normal people.”

  “So probably not the front door?” Gertie asked.

  “Probably not,” I agreed. “Once I make a good guess as to his entry point, then I try to predict the search path he’d take and ways I might be able to direct him where I’d like him to go.”

  “Like a heavier trail of footprints in the dust in one direction but not another?” Ida Belle asked.

  “That’s it exactly. Nothing obvious. Just the things that would exist if I were really hiding out here. Ahmad is an experienced tracker. I don’t have to leave him a trail of bread crumbs to get him where I want him.”

  “Then aren’t we messing things up by walking through all these buildings?” Gertie asked.

  “No. He would expect to see some footprints other than just mine. Even empty buildings are periodically checked on by owners, city inspectors, and the like.”

  “Or they could be for sale or lease,” Ida Belle said. “Not everything is listed online.”

  I nodded. “Once I’ve picked a building and decided on the location of the ambush, I’ll use ground-up rock to create a light layer of dust over the older footprints, then make newer prints for him to follow.”

  Gertie and Ida Belle looked at each other, and I could tell just how worried they were. They’d been upset from the beginning, although they’d done their best to hide it. But canvassing these buildings and being faced with the harsh realities of the takedown and all the variables that came with it had made it all too real. Ida Belle and Gertie were having trouble coming to terms with believing I was invincible and all the things I was up against. More than anything, I wished I could take away their worry. Their fear. But I knew it wasn’t possible. When you cared about someone, that was just the way things were.

  I understood that all too well now. And it made my next step even more important.

  Figuring out how to keep them out of harm’s way.

  Chapter Eleven

  When we arrived back at my house, I considered a boat ride to look for Godzilla, but Gertie immediately refused, insisting that I had bigger fish to fry. She figured exposing Celia’s poisoned meat plan had bought us a reprieve so the gator didn’t have to be a top priority. Still, because Godzilla had turned up again on my lawn, I insisted on getting the cage in place and baiting it with some frozen chicken wings. I figured the wings would thaw and while they weren’t as tasty as Gertie’s casserole, they would probably still do. Gertie had started prepping a casserole that morning and promised to bring it over later that afternoon.

  We said our goodbyes and I headed inside with my laptop and duffel. I put the wet stuff in the garage to finish drying and cleaned the mask in the laundry room sink. I had a quick shower to rid myself of the stinky canal water, then headed back downstairs to the kitchen for lunch and to start my review of the properties.

  I’d pretty much decided on the last property for the takedown. The advantage of the water tunnel was too big to pass up and too easy for a qualified crew to pull off. I gave the other properties one last cursory review while polishing off leftover lasagna but still couldn’t find an argument for any of them over the last one. So I grabbed a pad of paper and went to work on a layout of the building.

  I’d done a rough sketch as we’d walked and taken measurements in some places so that I’d be able to do a better drawing later to scale. Now I took that preliminary sketch and slowly redid it, appropriately sizing rooms and hallways, and making notes of dimensions as I went. I started on the ground level, and there were so many rooms that it took me an hour to get it done. I rose from the table and stretched, then took a walk around the house a couple times before settling back down to start on the basement.

  When the basement was well documented, I did a cursory layout of the second floor, mostly noting points of egress to the lower floor. Given that the team would enter from the water tunnel, I had decided that the best place for the ambush would be in the basement, but I still needed to secure the first level. There were too many windows that weren’t boarded and that would have to be addressed first, preferably with aged plywood and nails. New products would stick out like a sore thumb, but I needed to eliminate the possibility of Ahmad taking an easy leap through a window to escape or his men coming inside from every angle and flanking Harrison’s team.

  The basement provided only three ways out—the stairs, an elevator shaft, and the water tunnel. Ahmad was ballsy enough to try the water tunnel, even without gear, but one of the entry agents would close the opening once they were inside. Even if Ahmad managed to get past the team, opening the tunnel would take time, and that gave us time to take him down.

  Once in the basement of the building, the hallway led to four different rooms. The first was the one where the water tunnel was located. Then the hallway extended past the water tunnel location, made a ninety-degree turn right, and led to the remaining rooms. All of them were formed from concrete, with no exit point. The last one was where I would hide. That forced Ahmad farther down the hallway and left him blind as far as men exiting the tunnel room went. Once he made that bend in the hallway, the operatives could close in and he’d be trapped. No getting out unless he shot his way through all of us.

  I sat back in my chair and blew out a breath. It was all solid, except for one thing. The thing I hadn’t mentioned to Ida Belle and Gertie and never planned to.

  A bomb.

  If Ahmad had explosives on him, he wouldn’t hesitate to kill himself in order to get me. I’d known that from the beginning, and placing myself in a no-exit situation meant I’d go up in a blast with him if he was prepared to do it. Harrison wouldn’t love the idea. Morrow would hate it. But neither of them would be able to come up with something that produced better odds. My way offered the best possibility of Ahmad’s death.

  I just hoped I didn’t have to go along with him to make it happen.

  I fired up my laptop and sent Harrison an email with all the building info. We’d taken precautions to hide our email communication, even from Director Morrow, but he was going to have to know about it now. Not that it mattered any longer. Either this mission was successful and the whole mess was over or it was unsuccessful and I had to leave Sinful.

  Once the email was delivered, I sent Harrison a text, asking him to review the docs and call me when he and Morrow could get a secure place to talk. I got a text back thirty minutes later saying they would call in another ten minutes. In that ten minutes, I’m pretty sure I wore the finish off part of the hardwood floors. I must have paced back and forth from the kitchen to the living room a hundred times before the phone rang.

  I grabbed the phone and plopped into a chair at the kitchen table before answering, my laptop and all the handwritten notes sitting in front of me.

  “You’ve been busy,” Harrison said.

  “I just want this over with,” I said.

  “We can see that,” Morrow said. “What I want to know is why I’m bothering to put together a team. How about we just save the taxpayers the money and I shoot you myself?”

  “Sir?”

  “These plans make you a sitting duck!” Morrow yelled. “Sitting in a concrete basem
ent, with no entry or exit other than the one you want Ahmad to step through. I knew last time we’d talked that you’d made a departure from your usual self, and you’ve always been on the wrong side of cautious. But this plan of yours is downright suicidal.”

  “If I can’t get out, neither can Ahmad.”

  “He can take you both out,” Morrow said, “and you know it. He’d just as soon send himself, you, and that entire city block sky-high as let you get away if he’s got you in his sights. He missed an opportunity once before. He’s not going to play it safe this time.”

  “I have to agree with the director on that,” Harrison said. “Word’s been filtering back. Key members in Ahmad’s organization have some concerns about his mental state.”

  “They’re just now concerned?” I asked.

  “You know the drill,” Harrison said. “There’s a different level of sane for a terrorist, but reports are Ahmad’s moved well beyond what his people are comfortable with. He’s obsessed with vindicating his brother’s death.”

  “So we give him the opportunity,” I said. “And those concerned members can either die along with him like fools or hang back and fight over his business interests when he’s gone. Tell me again what other options I have. Go ahead. I’ll wait.”

  There was dead silence for several long seconds and finally, I heard Morrow sigh. I’d recognize that sigh anywhere because I’d heard it so many times. “It’s not just you I have to think about,” Morrow said. “I’m putting agents at risk.”

  Technically, it was true, but it was also a weak argument. If that’s the best Morrow had, then I had won this round. “Agents are always at risk,” I said. “We know that when we take the job. The risks of this operation are no greater than anything I’ve taken on in the past.”

  “Are you forgetting the mole?” Morrow asked. “We’re assuming he was working the Miami team, but what if he’s not the only one?”

  “I haven’t forgotten,” I said. “I’ve just figured out a way around it.”