by Brad Taylor
I said, “Roger all. Meet us there.”
I heard the calls from the team, all trying to find a location that would prevent the escape of the target.
Shoshana, sick of being out of the loop, said, “What the hell is going on?”
I said, “Rashid went to a different Internet café. Your lover boy is in play. Hopefully, we get something.”
Her face turned feral and she said, “We will. If Aaron’s in with him, we’ll get all we need.”
I started jogging up the street, running past the host-nation police guarding our embassy, then paused at the crosswalk for the road leading to the stadium, Shoshana following without question.
Brett came on, saying, “I’ve got a reading from the Dragontooth, but no picture. Is it a false signal?”
I stopped, telling Shoshana, “Call Aaron. Find out his status.”
She did. I waited at the intersection, seeing the soccer stadium in the distance. Jennifer came on. “I’m here. Where are you?”
I said, “Hang on. Stand by.”
Shoshana hung up and said, “He got the beacon on, and got a photo. Coming out now.”
My phone buzzed, and I saw a picture of a middle-aged swarthy man, could be Italian or Mexican. But I knew what he was. I said, “Everyone got it? Blood, you got it?”
He said, “Yeah, I got it, and I’ve got eyes on. Moving south towards the park. I’m on him. Gotta ditch the car, but if I do and he gets picked up, I’m done.”
“Do it. Knuckles, pick up Aaron, then vector on Blood’s signal.”
We crossed the street, headed to the soccer stadium, and Shoshana said, “Are we doing anything for the surveillance, or just getting exercise?”
I realized she was still out of the loop because she wasn’t on our communications net. I filled her in on everything I knew.
56
Rashid continued walking nonchalantly, not hurrying or doing anything that would spike the dozens of security cameras on the bars and stores he was passing. Blloku—or the Block—had been the heart of the Soviet empire in Albania, a section of the city that had housed the communist elite of the regime. Surrounded by vestiges of the old police state, with preserved pillboxes and sections of barbed-wire walls, Rashid understood that others believed the relics showed the death of the old guard, but he held no illusions that the surveillance state had gone with it.
He continued south, crossing streets and keeping a wary eye. He eventually reached a small restaurant outside the gates of Tirana Park, two policeman standing guard. He slowed, watching them as he pretended to wait on the traffic. Clearly bored, they spent more time looking at the women coming and going than for any potential threat.
He skipped across and threaded between them, drawing no attention, but it reminded him to be careful on the return. When they were following Omar.
He walked about a hundred meters and saw two men leaning against a small wooden bridge spanning a creek. His men.
They saw him coming and stood. He took a left onto a footpath, walked uphill fifty meters until he came to a park bench, and sat down, waiting for them to catch up.
When they did, he wasted no time. “Where is he?”
“At the amphitheater. As predicted. He’s inside right now.”
Rashid nodded. “And he came up this path?”
“Yes.”
“Can he leave without using this path?”
Hashim said, “Well, yes. Of course. This park has multiple exits with official stone walkways, and maybe forty more like the one we’re on now. Just dirt paths leading back to the city.”
Rashid nodded, thinking. He said, “Okay, so we have to get close. But not too close. We don’t want to upset the meeting. Just follow him to where he’s staying. I do not want to scare him. Let him do the mission, then follow. Understood?”
Both nodded their heads.
He said, “Can we see the theater from a distance?”
“Yes and no. It’s in a bowl, leading to the lake. From the top, we can see the building he’s in, but if he leaves through the amphitheater, going to the lake, we’ll lose him. We need someone low and high.”
“And you’ve been there? You know where you can spot the exit?”
“Yes. It’s not difficult. There are people all over the area, most just sitting on benches or lying in the grass. It won’t be an issue. The problem will be following him if he doesn’t take the flagstone walkways. If he takes a footpath, we’ll be behind him and he’ll know. We can’t follow him through the woods like that.”
Rashid said, “One problem at a time. You both are armed?”
Hashim said yes, but looked alarmed. Rashid said, “Don’t worry. I don’t expect anything to happen, but I told you, this man is death. He has an instinct. Don’t give him a reason to use it.”
* * *
I saw Jennifer patiently waiting outside of the soccer stadium and sprinted to catch up, Shoshana right behind me. I slid into the passenger seat, hearing Shoshana slamming the back door. I looked at the icons on my phone and said, “Get to the front of the park. Stop short of the entrance.”
She put the car in drive without a word and I started working the radio. “All elements, all elements, this is Pike. I’m mounted and headed to the university parking lot. I’ll control from there. Status?”
Brett came on first. “This is Blood. I’m still the eye. He’s inside the park, and he’s meeting two other targets. He’s got a team here, and something’s going down. Stand by for photos.”
Shit.
My phone blipped and I saw two more swarthy individuals. I said, “I want you to be clear: You think he’s operational right now? As in an attack?”
I heard, “Stand by.”
Then, “Meeting’s breaking up. They’re spreading out. Two UNSUBS and the target. All headed separate ways.”
I thought about the ramifications. The park was full of kids and families. Why on earth would he do an attack here? What would it get him? Albania wasn’t exactly on the list of crusader heathen states, being a majority Muslim country. I asked Brett again, putting a lot on his shoulders, “What’s your read? Do we need to close for intervention? Is this a threat?”
The Taskforce charter in no way extended to hostile threats against foreign interests, but I wasn’t about to sit back while that asshole conducted a Pakistan-schoolhouse-type attack, killing kids left and right just because he could.
After a pause, Brett said, “No. I don’t think so. They may be armed, but it’s pistols only, if they are. No backpacks and no long guns. I don’t think it’s an attack. They’re doing something else.”
Whew.
“Okay, okay. Knuckles, status?”
“Just pulled up to a B&B. Got Aaron and Retro.”
“Roger. All elements flood the park. Blanket him, but loosely. No idea what he’s doing, but I really don’t care, unless he shows a threat. Ignore the UNSUBS. I don’t give a shit about them unless they’re going to compromise you. Keep tabs on them to prevent that, but if they choose to leave, let ’em go. Everyone have their pictures?”
I got a roger from all, then Shoshana said, “Stop the car. Let me out.”
I said, “What for?”
“We’re paralleling the park right now. I can see it through the woods right there. Let me out. I’ll enter from here.”
“You’ve got no comms.”
“I’ve got a cell phone. This isn’t hard. If he comes this way, call me. I’ll pick him up. All of your guys are behind him. Put me ahead.”
Jennifer had already pulled over, looking at me for a decision, the park right next to us, hidden by a string of forest as thick as Brer Rabbit’s home. I said, “How are you going to get in? There isn’t a path here.”
She pointed, and I saw a gap through the woods, a trickle of water running off of a worn concrete sluice. The break was only about a foot across, but I knew the woods were thickest at the sunlight. She could crawl through, and I was sure it would open up. I just wasn’t sure if I
wanted to turn her loose.
I turned around in the seat, looking at her. She said, “You don’t think I can get through the woods?”
I saw her eyes and knew she’d already read me in her creepy way. That wasn’t what she was asking. I said, “I’m sure you can get through the trees, but I’m not so sure about getting out of the forest. The one in your head.”
She leaned down and screwed a suppressor into the Glock we’d given her, saying, “I told you: This mission is yours. The mission comes first.”
She sat back up and said, “I’ll kill no one unless you tell me to. And I’ll die if it’s called for, without pulling a trigger. Is that what you want to hear?”
“No, damn it. That’s exactly what I do not want to hear. Get up there and box him in, but don’t do anything stupid. We’ve got the beacon, and worst case, we can always go back to the Internet café.”
She opened the door and said, “Sounds good. I didn’t want to miss my first date anyway.”
She slid out, and Jennifer watched her slink into the culvert. She said, “That was a good call. She’s really, really skilled.”
I said, “Yeah, she’s skilled all right. Skilled at mind control. I hope that wasn’t a mistake.”
Jennifer put the car into drive, heading toward the entrance to the park. She said, “It wasn’t, but what was she talking about?”
She wove through the traffic, looking at me while trying to hide a grin. I said, “What do you mean?”
“What ‘first date’?”
I spluttered for a moment, and Jennifer’s grin broke out for real. “I can’t wait to tell Knuckles he was right. She’s smitten with you.”
57
Sitting on a park bench, Rashid gave his men a couple of minutes, then trudged up the hill, just one more man enjoying the sunshine and green space. He reached the top, the chipped and crumbling asphalt path connecting to a wide lane made of white flagstone. He could just see the edge of the amphitheater down the hill, built into a bowl. He went away from it, heading along the flagstones deeper into the park, leaving the surveillance to his men.
Rashid had no doubt that he was branded into Omar’s psyche, and one glimpse of him would immediately initiate a gunfight. Like a wild animal, Omar would recognize the threat Rashid represented, and would seek to eliminate it with overwhelming force. Just as Rashid would do if the roles were reversed. Or, more precisely, just as Rashid intended to do.
He reached a small alcove of granite set into a copse of evergreens, the flagstones ringed with monuments. In the center was a pedestal with three bronze busts from Albania’s past, a raised step of granite leading to it. Rashid ignored the busts, sitting on the granite and watching a child and father kick a soccer ball back and forth.
He pretended to be engrossed, but kept his eye on the amphitheater. From this distance, due to the slope of the hill, he could make out only the top of the projection building, getting a small sliver of the steel door leading inside.
He sat, patient as a snake on a hot rock, flicking its tongue out, tasting the wind.
Waiting.
* * *
I passed the drive leading to our hotel, the Sheraton standing tall on the hill. I pulled in front of the university, looking for a place to park. To my right was a huge roundabout—really a football-size square of asphalt—probably used for parades back in the bad old days. I saw a couple of cabs parked on the outskirts, their drivers out and smoking cigarettes. I crossed the lanes of traffic and pulled in behind them, nose aimed toward the south. Toward the park. Driving a Ford minivan, I didn’t really fit in, but I wasn’t standing out that badly.
I could hear the chatter on the radio, the team working the problem. I broke in. “Knuckles, this is Pike. You with Aaron?”
“Yeah, I got him.”
I explained on the net what Shoshana was doing, saying, “She’s his baby. Make sure he can control her. You stick with him.”
“Roger, but I was planning on running him down the hill. There’s an amphitheater here and it’s pretty large. With Shoshana to the east, I got that covered, but Blood’s the only guy to the south, keeping tabs on one of the UNSUBS.”
“I copy. Retro’s still got eyes on?”
Retro cut in. “Roger. He’s just sitting at a monument. Killing time. I’m okay for a longer spell. If he leaves, I’ll trigger, but I can’t pick up the follow.”
Knuckles said, “Can you get Koko in here?”
I looked at Jennifer and said, “If I do, I’m the only one locking down the entrance. I was going to use her as contingency.”
“If you want me to stay with Aaron as control for the Israeli team, I need her to the southwest. I’ll pick up the follow when Retro triggers, but we’ve lost contact with the second UNSUB. He’s to the southwest somewhere. Get Koko in here for that.”
She was already digging out kit from a large pack in the back. I said, “Roger all. She’s coming in east of the main entrance, on a footpath. Vector her in.”
She glanced up, wondering what I was talking about, looking for clarification about her approach. Off the radio, I said, “See that café?” An indoor/outdoor sandwich shop about two hundred meters away from the primary entrance, it fronted the street with a small patio. She nodded, and I said, “Go farther up the hill. See those goats eating in that little pen?” She nodded again and then saw what I was talking about: a thin footpath that wound from the pen up through the scrub of the hillside, disappearing into the trees.
She opened the bag wider and said, “How many long guns do they have?”
“Brett took one, but everyone else is carrying Glocks.” The weapon choice had happened before we thought there was a threat. Before Rashid had met a team.
She pulled out a harness, saying, “You still think there’s a potential that Rashid is up to something? It’s a little hot, but I can get away with a light jacket.”
The harness was nothing more than a double loop that went over the shoulders, with a magazine holster on one side, the magazine itself positioned upside down for fast removal, and a quick-release clip on the other side that held the folded rifle at the buffer spring, both riding uncomfortably underneath the armpits of the person wearing it.
It was built for concealment, not speed, and worked fairly well when the weather was cold or rainy, when we could cover the bulk with coats, but sort of sucked in the summertime. Luckily, Albania was still a pretty formal place, with nobody wearing shorts and most men sporting leather coats or cheap woolen blazers. Brett was no monster in height, but he was built like a fireplug of solid muscle. Given his size, the harness worked for him. He could pull it off, but I wasn’t sure Jennifer’s jacket would cut the mustard.
I said, “Leave it. Rashid’s definitely up to something, but I don’t think it’s an attack. Take a Glock. The last thing we need is you getting busted by some stranger because you’ve got a suppressor hanging out of your hem.”
She slid a suppressed Glock 30 compact into a concealed sleeve on the side of the duffel bag she called a purse. It looked like someone had skinned a water buffalo to make it, and she packed it with all manner of feminine bullshit and Taskforce kit. I swear, I had no idea how she lugged it around everywhere.
She rearranged some things in the bag—probably making sure she could get to her lipstick—snapped it closed, then pecked me on the check. “See you soon.”
“Get a radio check with Knuckles.”
She nodded, slid out of the vehicle, and jogged across the road. She reached the fence next to the café and found a break the locals used. She scampered past the goat pen and I heard, “Knuckles, Knuckles, this is Koko, I’m about two minutes out.”
58
After twenty minutes of instruction on the weird detonation devices, Omar was growing impatient. He wanted to test one.
He said, “Look, I don’t care about what type of chemicals are in the vials or why they react the way they do when mixed together. I’m not going to be building my own, and I left school
at the age of ten. All I care about is that it will set off explosives. Will it or not?”
The gap-toothed man said, “Yes, of course it will. I’m sorry. I was told to give you all the information that I was given.”
He removed one of the detonators from the table and held it up. About the size of a pack of cigarettes, it had no metal that Omar could see, with a black rubber button that protruded on one side, a tiny lever on the other, and twin nozzles on the bottom that looked like they’d come from an aquarium pump.
He said, “The device is completely immune to any current metal or explosives detection capability known today. Everything is rubber, glass, or plastic, with the exception of a single piece of steel inside, much too small to alert anything.”
He waved to his partner, who picked up the smartphone. “On the surface, this replicates an ordinary cell phone. You can swipe left and right and pull up applications. The difference is that the applications are only shells and the phone cannot call anything. It should pass a cursory inspection, but if someone spends more than a minute inspecting it, they’ll know it’s a fake.”
Omar said, “What’s it for?”
Gap-tooth stuck a toothpick into what appeared to be the headphone jack, then levered upward. The front of the shell rotated out, exposing wires, circuit boards, and the battery—five triple-A-size cylinders encased in a plastic sleeve, a double strand of wire running out of the end. He popped the sleeve, exposing two glass cylinders, two metal blasting caps, and a true battery. He said, “The phone holds the chemicals and blasting caps. It’s padded for travel and protection, and will reflect like ordinary batteries on an X-ray scan.”
He palmed it, showing the cylinders. They each held a colorless fluid inside. He set the phone on the table and returned to the plastic device. He popped off the top and leaned it forward, showing what looked like a receptacle for holding batteries in a television remote control, two parallel to each other.
