by John Ling
‘Why indeed.’ Adam rolled his neck. Drew his pistol. It was a Beretta twenty-two. A suppressed subsonic. He eased the slide back, press-checking to see that it had a round chambered. Then he reholstered the gun. Looked at Tong. ‘Okay. This is how we’re going to play this. I’ll head inside first. Pay for a terminal. Sit down. Get comfy.’
Tong shook his head. ‘Bah, there is no need to babysit me. You’ve already rigged me up with this.’ Tong tapped the wireless camera on his shirt. It was subminiature and sat just under his collar, looking like an ordinary button, but powerful enough to transmit in a burst pattern. Near impossible to detect. ‘Everything I see, you’ll see,’ Tong said. ‘There is no need for you to be so paranoid.’
‘It’s for your own good.’ Adam said. ‘In the event things go to shit, I can respond faster if I’m in there with you.’
Tong creased his face like he was sucking on a sour lemon. ‘Things are not going go to shit. Hassan is my friend, and I can handle him just fine.’
‘It’s not Hassan I’m worried about. It’s Magellan. So give me a twenty-minute head start, then make your move.’
‘But—’
‘No buts. Give me twenty minutes.’
Adam popped the car door open and stepped out into the rain. Slamming it on Tong’s surly face, he strode along the street, head bent, shoulders clenched, eyes smarting. He had dressed the part of a slacker, complete with dishevelled hair and frumpy clothes. And he kept his gait loose. Casual. Non-threatening. The best kind of camouflage.
Cranking his gaze, he checked parked cars, searching for telltale signs of counter-surveillance. Smoked windows or occupants sitting idly. But nope. Nothing.
Adam circumnavigated the block, checking, checking, rechecking before slipping into the alley behind the cybercafé. He scoped out the backdoor and the fire escape, then retraced his steps. The exterior looked all right. And with the architectural floor plans Deirdre had supplied him, he had a fairly good idea of the interior layout. He wouldn’t be walking in totally blind.
Still, he wasn’t entirely comfortable with the arrangement. If it was up to him, he would have chosen to set up the meet with Hassan in a neutral location. Somewhere private. Secluded. Minus the civilians. Because civilians meant variables, and variables meant complications. Lips wet and cold, Adam smirked. He wasn’t happy, but he wasn’t about to whinge about it either. This was Tong’s play, imperfect as it was, and he was just going to have to back it up as best he could.
When he got under the shopfront’s awning, the automatic doors at the entrance swished open, and the hubbub hit him—virtual swords and guns going full tilt, augmented by pulsating music and the murmuring of patrons. The place was busier than he had expected. There were at least forty people on the ground floor alone, twice what he had estimated from the outside.
Straightening, Adam stepped up to the reception, shaking his jacket loose of droplets, his shoes sounding squishy on the carpeting.
The pimply teenager manning the desk looked up, sleepy-eyed, and waved him through, her motion dismissive. ‘It’s five dollars an hour. Use any computer.’
‘Cheers.’
Adam made for the staircase on the other side of the room. Walked slowly. Used his peripheral vision. Scanned the fidgety gamers. Picked out the bubble-domed CCTV camera on the ceiling. Kept his head lowered. Clocked in the angles, the corners, the lines of sight, the lines of fire. Measuring, measuring, measuring.
Reaching the stairs, he gripped the banister and climbed up. When he got to the top, he found it to be much the same as below. Similar layout, but less people.
That’s when he spotted them—two heavy-set men seated close to a door at the far end. Minders. Looking bored. Drooping in their chairs. Not at all surveillance conscious. Adam felt his skin tingle. Oh yeah. This was most definitely where things would go down. Past that door would be Hassan’s office.
Adam moved towards the best vantage point—a terminal in the corner, well away from the CCTV camera on this level. He positioned himself between the door and the staircase. A decent compromise. If he needed to, he’d be able to move in either direction fast enough.
Adam sat down and got out his cellphone. Launching an app, he connected to the feed from Tong’s camera. There was a little fuzz, a little grain, but it was clear enough—Tong was still in the car, shifting impatiently from side to side.
Things will be happening soon enough.
Adam placed his cellphone under the terminal’s monitor and logged on to a first-person shooter. Spawning as a US Marine in a lush, green valley surrounded by sloping mountains. A recreation of the Battle of Ia Drang. A tropical nightmare. Viet Cong guerrillas were descending in a swoop attack, trying to overwhelm the Marine LZ, and amidst all the booming artillery and cracking gunfire, Adam played half-heartedly, getting killed in no time.
He pretended to twitch and groan in frustration. As he did, he pulled a small adaptor from his pocket. Reached for the column of power sockets on the wall beside him. Plugged it into a free one. Then he righted himself in his seat and continued playing, respawning for another round.
The adaptor was designed to project an electromagnetic surge that would fry the building’s power supply. Hopefully, it wouldn’t come to that. But Adam wanted to be prepared.
He checked his cellphone. Tong was already out of the car. Approaching the cybercafé’s entrance. And anticipation flexed in his throat like a jagged talon.
Here we go.
CHAPTER 45
The one thing that Tong’s feed didn’t have was audio. Including it would have made the surveillance package too bulky; more susceptible to discovery. But Adam didn’t mind—he could lip-read as well as anyone.
Tong was through the automatic doors now, and the girl at the reception went from sleepy-eyed to perky. There was some friendly banter. Some giggles. It was obvious she had some kind of crush on him.
Adam smirked.
Tong was moving towards the staircase now, mounting it, camera bobbing as he did. When he reached the top, the minders stood, thuggish faces grinning.
Adam expected them to pat him down. To check if he was armed or wired. But, amazingly, they didn’t. The minders treated Tong exactly like how he said they would—as a friend. One of them unlocked the door, and the other guided him into the corridor beyond.
Adam shrugged.
Maybe this thing would work out after all.
At the end of the corridor, Tong was ushered through another door. Into the office. It was cramped. The detritus of old computers lined the walls. And right in the middle was Hassan. Seated behind a mahogany desk. Looking toady in a cheap suit and tie. Flanked by another minder.
Adam frowned.
Something about Hassan’s smile didn’t look quite right.
It was too smug, too knowing.
That’s when something caused Tong to turn around. There was a streak of motion from the edge of the camera’s frame. And bang. The minder behind Tong sucker-punched him, and the camera spun wildly, everything turning into a blurry mess.
CHAPTER 46
Adam’s stomach lurched.
It’s a set-up. It’s a damn set-up.
Tong was on the floor now, and the minders frisked him. They were aggressive in their search, slapping and pawing and prodding, but they didn’t find the camera. Still, Hassan wasn’t satisfied. He leaned over his desk and pointed an accusing finger, trying to get Tong to admit to something. When Tong didn’t give him the right answer, Hassan nodded at his minders, and they went to work, stomping and kicking, and the feed crumbled into static.
Shit.
Adam fiddled with his cellphone. Tried to reacquire the signal. But it was no use. He sucked in a breath through his teeth. Felt adrenalin warming his blood, causing his hands to tremble ever so slightly.
Shit.
Swallowing, he used the edge of his vision to check on the minder at the door. The guy was just sitting there. Looking relaxed. Languid. As if the violence on the
other side wasn’t even happening. And all the other patrons in the room were still immersed in their virtual worlds. Hypnotised. Oblivious.
A few seconds ticked by.
And… nothing.
They don’t know I’m here.
Adam had a choice to make right then. He could play it cool. Try to slip away. Leave Tong to take the heat. Disavow and deny. Or…
Or I can play this like Bogart.
Slowly, very slowly, he pocketed his cellphone and rose from his seat. Pushed back his chair. Performed another scan of the room. Licked his lips. Flexed his fingers.
Do it.
Adam turned and made for the door.
The minder saw him coming from ten paces away and jerked to attention, rising to his feet. ‘Hey, hey. You can’t go back there. That’s staff only.’
Adam scrunched up his face and clutched his stomach. Continued approaching. Eyes downcast. Muscles tensed up. Pulse drumming in his ears. ‘Toilet. I need the toilet.’
‘The toilet is over there.’
‘Where? I don’t see it.’
‘It’s right over—’
Adam drew his pistol. Pressed it into the man’s chest. Double-tapped his heart. The suppressed shots were like a stapler clicking, and the metallic scent of gunsmoke peppered the air. The minder twitched and seized up, his mouth gaping. Adam caught him before he fell and, with a grunt, eased his limp body back into his chair, blood already blossoming across his shirt.
A few patrons were murmuring now, peeking out from behind their terminals, straining to see what was going on.
Adam knew he didn’t have much time.
He searched the minder’s body and found the keys. Straightening, he unlocked the door and got out his cellphone, dialling a preset number. There was a hiss followed by a pop, and all the lights and computers went dark.
CHAPTER 47
Adam slipped on his night-vision goggles and swung into the corridor, the infrared laser on his gun stabbing the darkness, visible only to his eyes. He was in the zone now, adrenalin spurring him forward, sweat prickling his skin.
At the end of the corridor, he sliced the pie—cutting around the corner in a wide angle, maximising his sight picture. And that’s when the office door creaked open, and a minder came shuffling out, revolver in hand. And Adam shot him in the forehead, dropping him like a stringless puppet.
Hassan’s voice bellowed from inside the office, ‘Tito? What is happening out there? Tito?’
Adam darted through the doorway in a button-hook manoeuvre, going low, using his momentum to carry him into a sliding crouch, and Hassan and the remaining minder opened fire, muzzle flashes painting the room in a ghoulish staccato, but Adam was already to the left of the doorway, already clear of the fatal funnel, and with his ears ringing, teeth clenched, he planted his laser on Hassan, then the minder, drilling them both with headshots.
Click. Click.
Click. Click.
Blood misted the air, and Tong cried out and cowered as the two bodies thudded on the floor on either side of him.
Adam tracked his gun this way and that way. Inhaled. Exhaled. Made sure there was no one else left to shoot. Then he performed a tactical reload, swapping his partially depleted magazine for a fresh one.
He moved towards Tong and touched his shoulder. ‘It’s okay. Hey, it’s okay. It’s me.’
‘Bastard…’ Tong coughed and wheezed, his speech slurred. ‘Bastard really played me for a fool...’
Adam examined him, taking stock of his injuries. Dislocated nose. Broken jaw. Shattered fingers. Cracked ribs. Numerous contusions. They were all ugly, yeah, but paled in comparison to the problems that weren’t immediately apparent—minor whiplash trauma to the neck and a possible low-grade concussion to the head.
Damn it.
Adam swept his gaze across the room. Over the bodies. And paused when he saw the laptop computer on Hassan’s desk. It was still active; running wirelessly on battery power. Which meant that it had escaped being fried by the electromagnetic surge.
Adam thumbed his nose.
Maybe there’s still a chance we can salvage some intel.
He decided to grab the laptop and hope for the best. Because there was no time to do anything more. Tong was hurt bad, and already, he could hear people shouting and clamouring outside.
They had to move, and they had to move now.
CHAPTER 48
Adam helped Tong down the fire escape. The rain pelted them, and the metal steps were slippery. Adam knew that he ran the risk of aggravating Tong’s injuries by forcing him to move. Which could lead to damaged nerves. Ruptured blood vessels. Or worse. But Adam chose not to think about it. Right now, the priority was to exfiltrate. The quicker, the better.
They hit ground level, and Tong stumbled, snot and blood dribbling down his nose, and Adam held him up. Steadied him. As they hobbled out of the alleyway, Adam’s eyes darted, scanning for threats. A small crowd had gathered in front of the cybercafé, and sirens were converging from several blocks away.
Great. Just great.
Adam picked up the pace and led Tong across the street. Tong gasped and groaned. Behind them, the sirens were fast approaching, a wailing crescendo that made Adam’s chest tighten, but he resisted the urge to look back.
Come on. Come on.
It felt like forever, but they finally reached the car.
Adam eased Tong into the passenger side, strapped him in, then got into the driver’s side and placed the laptop in the backseat. Heart pounding, he waited for the police vehicles to scream past, their light bars flashing, before he keyed the ignition, got the car into gear and performed a slow U-turn. He straightened and accelerated in the opposite direction, fingers tight on the steering wheel, executing random turns until he was sure—absolutely sure—that they were clear.
Close. Too damn close.
Adam threw Tong a glance. He was rigid and shivering, his lips blue. Classic signs of combat stress reaction. Adam slipped off his jacket and threw it over Tong before cranking up the heater.
CHAPTER 49
Deirdre knew that things had gone bad.
She was listening in on the police chatter, and it was running wild. Shots had apparently been fired inside the cybercafé, and first responders were already on the scene. Locking the place down. Corralling witnesses. Waiting for the Armed Offenders Squad to arrive.
Deirdre felt her cheeks twitch.
If Adam is still inside…
That’s when her phone rang. She straightened. Saw that it was Adam. She terminated the chatter coming from her computer and touched her Bluetooth earpiece, taking the call. ‘It’s about time you checked in. Police transmissions are running red-hot. What’s happening?’
‘A clusterfuck, that’s what. The meeting was a set-up. They jumped Tong and beat him nearly to a pulp. I had to go tactical.’
Deirdre ran her hand through her hair and inhaled. ‘Meaning?’
‘Meaning four tangos are down, including Hassan.’
‘That’s… less than desirable.’
Adam scoffed. ‘I had no choice. Look, I’m coming in with Tong. He’s suffered extreme blunt-force trauma, and his prognosis isn’t great. So get a medical team ready. Also, you might want to spare an egghead for data-mining duties. I managed to recover Hassan’s laptop. May or may not contain actionable intel.’
Deirdre nodded. ‘Okay. All right. Anything else?
‘Yeah. I knocked out the CCTV cameras in the cybercafé with an electromagnetic surge. So we don’t have to worry about footage. But there’s shell casings and blood and—’
‘Understood. I’ll pull some strings and make the evidence disappear. Dress everything up as a gang-related shooting. So don’t stress about that. It’s a non-issue. Just get back here immediately.’
‘Will do.’
Deirdre clicked off and leaned back against her chair. Gripped the armrests. Exhaled slowly.
So far, Magellan had been a ghost. Untraceable. Inscrutable
. But now… now the smokescreen was melting away. And it was to plain to see that he was more than just another drug pusher. His violent overreaction only confirmed what she had always suspected—that distributing khat was simply a pretext. A means to an end. Some kind of… false-flag operation.
Why else would Hassan turn on Tong like this?
Magellan must have made him a better offer.
But why? To hide what?
Deirdre curled her lip. She needed to debrief Adam and Tong. Plug the holes. Gain a better strategic picture. And then—damn it—she intended to put pressure on the prime minister and the police commissioner. Play them off against each other. Force the damn bureaucrats to finally authorise blanket surveillance on the Somalian community.
Shaking her head, Deirdre reached for her phone. Dialled an extension number. ‘Janice? Please get Dr Singh and his team prepped. We have precious cargo coming in…’
CHAPTER 50
Devlin and Emmerich strolled hand in hand, pretending to be a couple.
An elderly couple.
It was the best kind of camouflage.
Through a combination of prosthetics and make-up, they had altered their faces beyond recognition. New hair. New noses. New wrinkles. They looked years older than they were. Which was the point. Older faces always came across as being less suspicious. Less threatening.
They rounded a corner, and Ramesh Kahoku’s home came into view. It was a single-storey. Unfenced. Hedged only by low-lying bushes.
Devlin scanned this way and that way, finding the lack of obstacles to be both good and bad.
Good because it offered an uninterrupted line of approach.
But bad because there was nothing to mask that approach.
