by Will Jordan
It was hardly the best field ops station she’d worked in, but it would serve.
The sound of boots hitting the ground behind told her that Anya had just exited the vehicle. She resisted the urge to turn around or move aside, thinking somehow it would be perceived as a sign of weakness. Ignoring her, the older woman simply brushed past, bumping her shoulder without uttering a word.
‘All right, we’ve got a lot to do and not much time,’ Drake announced. ‘Let’s get this equipment unloaded and prep the van. I want to recon the target while it’s still dark.’
‘I’m on it,’ Mason replied, unlatching the straps holding the first box in place.
‘Keira, you’re with me. I want to test the Judas code.’
‘Why not? Sounds like fun.’
‘That’s what I want to hear,’ Drake said. ‘The rest of you, focus on getting this place up and running. We need a functioning ops room by the time I get back, but weapon and equipment checks have priority.’
‘Would you like a hot tub and cocktail bar while we’re at it?’ Mason asked.
‘Only if it does pina coladas,’ he called over his shoulder.
Anya, however, was not interested in their banter, and caught Drake’s arm as he strode past. ‘I’m coming with you.’
He shook his head. ‘Bad idea. You’re needed here.’
Her grip tightened a little. ‘I didn’t come halfway around the world to unload equipment, Ryan.’
Drake eyed her sceptically. ‘This is just a recon trip. The fewer of us there, the better.’
Anya shrugged, as if his concerns meant nothing. ‘I am going all the same. I want to see the safe house for myself.’
For a moment Drake seemed poised to argue the point further. But, perhaps sensing that they’d been in conflict with each other enough already, he reluctantly nodded acquiescence.
‘Fair enough,’ he conceded, removing his arm from her grasp. ‘We leave in five, so if there’s anything you need to do, I’d do it now.’
‘The only thing I need to do is get there. Anything else can wait.’
Feeling no need to respond to that, Drake consulted his watch. ‘All right, we’ve only got a few hours of darkness left. Let’s make them count.’
As the others went to work, McKnight waited until Anya was out of earshot before approaching him. ‘Ryan, listen… be careful out there.’
‘Always am.’
‘That’s not what I meant.’ She nodded towards Anya, who was cautiously exploring the office area at the back of the warehouse. ‘I mean, be careful around her.’
Drake eyed her curiously for a moment, wondering what had prompted this unease. But sensing how much it meant to her, he nodded.
‘All right, Sam.’ Turning away, he hesitated, glancing over his shoulder with a wry grin. ‘Hold the fort. If we’re not back in an hour, call the president.’
Even she couldn’t help but smile at that.
Chapter 35
Islamabad, Pakistan
It was always a strange experience seeing a target for the first time with your own eyes, after poring over blueprints and satellite images for hours or in some cases days, committing every possible detail to memory. Whatever one’s mental image, nothing compared to actually being there.
Ryan and Anya were crouched on the rooftop of the apartment block they had identified on the map, situated about 70 yards west of the safe house. The rooftop access door had been locked and alarmed when they arrived, but a little lock-picking and electrical bypassing on Drake’s part had taken care of both minor impediments, allowing them to creep out onto the flat roof unseen.
By now it was well after midnight, and even the bustling city of Islamabad had begun to settle down. Traffic on the streets had all but vanished, and though some houses and apartments were still illuminated from inside, it seemed most citizens had turned in for the night.
‘How does it look?’ Anya asked, crouched down beside him at the low parapet that encircled the rooftop. For the past minute or so, she had been busy fitting a metal restraining piton used by professional climbers into the wall opposite, knowing they would need it tomorrow night. But with her work done, she was eager to learn more about their target.
Adjusting the focus slightly on his camera’s telescopic lens, Drake shifted his gaze along the building’s perimeter.
‘Cameras are right where they’re supposed to be,’ he said, taking a quick photograph of each security camera as he found it.
He angled the camera upwards, focussing on a big satellite dish fixed to the roof. Ostensibly it was nothing more than a commercial TV receiver, little different from the countless others in this neighbourhood, but Drake was willing to bet it was a satcom array for sending and receiving secure communications.
‘There’s some kind of antenna cluster mounted on the roof. It’s not much of a target but it should make a good grapple point, and there’s a rooftop terrace beneath it.’ Sure enough, a closed doorway at one end of the terrace led deeper into the house. ‘That’s our way in.’
‘Is it strong enough to take our weight?’ she asked.
‘We’ll find out tomorrow night.’ Drake smiled as he spotted another little detail that no construction blueprint could have warned him about. ‘Looks like they stuck broken glass on top of the perimeter wall. It’s the personal touches that really add character to a place.’
Fortunately for them, they wouldn’t have to scale that wall to get inside. Drake had a far more audacious entry plan in mind.
Reaching for the radio unit hidden inside his jacket, Drake hit the transmit button. ‘Unit Two, what’s your sitrep? Over.’
‘Still working on it, One,’ Frost’s voice crackled through the little radio earpiece he was wearing. ‘Stand by.’
‘How much time do you need?’
‘I’m sorry, would you like to take a shot at this?’ she hit back irritably. ‘You’d be surprised to know this isn’t like turning on the kitchen light. So stand by and let me do my job.’
‘Very professional, Two.’
Frost was currently positioned a few hundred yards away, trying to tap into a local telephone junction box. It wasn’t an easy task, but it was necessary if she was to wrest control of the safe house’s formidable security system. As she had explained, a hardline connection was the only way to make it work.
‘Any movement inside?’ Anya asked, concentrating on matters closer at hand.
Drake shifted his focus to the upper storey windows, which were big full-length affairs designed to provide optimal views over the city. A couple of external lights were burning, but otherwise the house was shrouded in darkness. ‘Looks quiet. No sign of activity.’
‘Cain’s security team will likely arrive a few hours before the meeting to sweep the place for bugs,’ Anya agreed. ‘Then we will know it’s going ahead.’
‘Sounds about right. Then we just have the small matter of fighting our way through them.’
‘That won’t be easy. He will likely be well protected.’
He nodded. ‘Standard protective detail for a bigwig like him is half a dozen agents, suited and booted. Low key but packing plenty of firepower.’
Having served with the Agency for several years, he was well versed in their protocols. All of his operatives would be wearing Kevlar vests, and armed with a mixture of semi and fully automatic weapons, probably MP5-Ks for easy carrying and concealment, plus fragmentation and stun grenades if they were feeling creative.
‘I would expect more,’ she countered. ‘Not to mention that his Pakistani contact is likely to bring his own detail.’
Drake had feared as much. That was a lot of guns for a small assault team to go up against. The potential for a massacre was frighteningly high.
He glanced sidelong at her. ‘Listen, you’ve been around a while.’ Seeing her look, he added, ‘And I mean that as a compliment. You’ve seen and done all there is to do in this game. Be honest – did you ever go up against something like this?’
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Anya pursed her lips, considering it. ‘No,’ she decided. ‘Not like this.’
He’d asked for honesty, and sure enough she’d given it to him. Even if he didn’t like the answer.
‘And there I was, starting to worry,’ Drake remarked with dry humour, turning his attention back to surveying the house. ‘But look on the bright side – this is another feather in your cap. Assuming we live through it.’
‘Are you actually enjoying this?’ she asked, surprised by his flippant remark.
He shrugged, his first instinct being to dismiss her question as a simple misunderstanding of his intent. And yet, when he paused to consider it, he had to admit that things had been different for him lately. He felt, if not exactly enthused, then certainly more focussed, more driven, more connected than he had in a long time.
He had a purpose now; a mission, an objective to strive towards. The danger and challenges that stood in his way were problems that he would overcome. The enemy he faced, though cunning and ruthless, was something real and tangible to pit himself against.
‘I’d rather fight than hide,’ he said without looking around. ‘We tried that already. Didn’t work out too well.’
‘Since we are being honest with each other, there was something I wanted to ask you.’ Anya hesitated then, searching for the right words. ‘You questioned what I would do once this was all over, and maybe you were right to do it, but did you ever ask that of yourself?’
Drake should have been able to reel off a dozen answers for her. A few days ago he might well have been able to, but now…
Now he found it hard to picture anything beyond their objective tomorrow night, as if Downfall were an end rather than a means. Was that the truth of it, he wondered? All that talk about not wanting to end up like Anya, about trying to protect the life he’d created for himself in Marseille, about having something to go back to once this was all over… How real had it actually been?
Or was there another reason he found it so hard to focus on the future, he wondered? A reason much closer at hand?
Mercifully, his earpiece crackled into life then, breaking the awkward silence. ‘Unit Two. Ready to turn out the lights.’
Drake let out a breath, relieved both at her success and the welcome interruption. ‘Copy that, Two. Do it.’
For the next few seconds, nothing at all happened. Cars cruised along on the nearby roads, dogs barked off in the distance, muffled music resounded from inside houses and apartments, and air conditioning outlets hummed away. The world around them continued on as normal, unaware of the clandestine work being done right in their midst.
Drake was oblivious to all of this, however. All of his attention was focussed on the surveillance camera mounted on the wall of the distant safe house, willing the indicator light to switch off as the seconds crawled by with agonizing slowness.
‘Come on, come on,’ he whispered.
Every moment that passed decreased their chances of success.
He couldn’t rightly say how much time had passed. Then, just like that, the little red indicator light mounted in the side of the unit blinked off.
‘That’s it,’ he called out, hardly believing it had worked. ‘Two, what’s your sitrep?’
‘I’m in, One. It’s a little clumsy to operate, but I’ve got it all – phones, door locks, cameras. The code works.’
Drake let out a breath, hardly believing it. It wasn’t going to be easy, and there were at least a dozen things that could still go wrong and spell doom for their mission, but it was at least possible. That was enough for now.
‘Then we have what we need here,’ he concluded. ‘Pack it up, Two. We’ll meet at the rally point in five. Over.’
‘Understood, One. I’m on it. Out.’
Turning to face Anya, Drake gave her a nod. ‘No rest for the wicked. Let’s go.’
She wasn’t inclined to argue as he packed up his gear and retreated back into the stairwell, closing the door behind but leaving the alarm disabled. It would save time when they returned tomorrow night.
Exiting the apartment block, Drake turned right and hurried back along the street with Anya following close behind, a drab coloured shemagh pulled up over her head to cover her face and distinctive blonde hair. In this part of the world, a Western woman walking the streets at night would attract all kinds of attention they didn’t need.
‘You know, you’re surprisingly resourceful when it comes down to it. Is this how you ran all your Shepherd missions?’ Anya asked, curious.
‘Fuck, no,’ Drake snorted, keeping a wary eye on their surroundings. ‘I’m winging it here. Normally we’d have satellite recon, drones, thermal imaging and about a week of planning time. Why, how did you do things?’
‘We worked for a living. We didn’t rely on computers for everything.’
Drake rolled his eyes. ‘Jesus, you’re starting to sound like my dad.’
He couldn’t see her expression from where he was, but he could practically feel those steely blue eyes boring into the back of his head.
The Bukhanka was sitting parked in an alleyway off the main road about 50 yards further down, and he was relieved to find it untouched as they approached. He’d been loath to leave the vehicle unguarded, but there hadn’t been much choice. Anyway, it was hardly a top-end Ferrari. In an affluent neighbourhood like this, there wasn’t much chance of someone stealing such a dilapidated vehicle.
‘Unit Two is en route,’ Frost’s voice crackled in his ear. ‘Be there in 60 seconds.’
‘Copy that, Two,’ Drake replied. ‘We’re standing by at—’
‘Don’t move!’ a hard, commanding voice called out from his left.
Drake’s head snapped around just in time to see a man emerge from the shadows on one side of the alley. A moment later, a second man appeared from behind the van.
It seemed that both had been lying in wait for them.
Immediately Drake’s body tensed up, muscles readying themselves for the sudden, explosive bursts of movement and aggression that might soon be required of them. At that same instant, his mind went into threat assessment mode, eyes sweeping between the two potential enemies, taking in as much detail about them as possible.
Both men were wearing matching uniforms of some kind, but they didn’t look like military or even the blue and khaki of the local police force. Intelligence operatives would likely have been dressed in plain clothes, so that ruled them out. Likewise, a potential carjacking was also unlikely for the same reason.
If he had to guess, he’d say these men were private security, hired to patrol the neighbourhood and keep it clear of undesirables. An old, shitty-looking panel van of Russian manufacture lying abandoned in an alleyway had likely caught their attention.
‘You’ve got to be shitting me,’ Drake said under his breath, hardly believing their misfortune at being caught off guard by a pair of rent-a-cops.
‘Hands up!’ the first man demanded. ‘Both of you.’
The arrival of these men might have been a cruel joke, but there was nothing funny about the pair of square framed automatics they had trained on him. Doing his best to examine them in the dim light, he reckoned them to be Glock 17s; a favourite of police forces worldwide.
One of the first handguns to be made of synthetic polymer rather than standard gunmetal, the Glock had quickly become well regarded because of its lightweight design, resistance to rust and dirt, and its accuracy. They came in lots of different calibres, and in the poor light it was impossible to tell what kind of rounds these weapons were chambered for, but it made little difference. At such close range even a 9mm weapon was more than enough to take down himself and Anya, neither of whom were wearing body armour.
Drake’s first instinct on seeing them had been to go for his own concealed weapon, but one look at the security guards was enough to persuade him otherwise. Their fingers were on the triggers. It wouldn’t take more than one sudden move to start them shooting. And even if he and Anya survived the en
counter, an armed confrontation on the streets just hours before the house assault would likely see the entire meeting abandoned.
The fact that nobody had started dying yet suggested Anya was of like mind. How long she stayed that way, however, would likely depend on how things played out in the next few seconds.
‘Woah! It’s okay, guys. It’s okay,’ Drake said, raising his hands and doing his best to look as unthreatening as possible. Just a scared tourist caught off guard by two armed cops. ‘Take it easy. We’re not armed.’
‘Is this your van?’ the man on his left demanded, his English surprisingly good for low-rent private security. He looked a little older than his companion, and was likely the decision maker of the two. In that case, he was the one Drake needed to win over.
Drake nodded emphatically. ‘Yeah, that’s right.’
‘What are you doing here?’
‘We’re from Vancouver,’ he began, feigning his best Canadian accent.
The golden rule at moments like this was never claim to be American or British. Between them, they’d bombed and invaded half the Muslim countries in the world, and pissed off a lot of people in the process. Drake always chose countries like Canada, Australia or New Zealand – neutral, inoffensive English-speaking nations that nobody really gave a shit about.
‘We’re on vacation in Islamabad, and we have friends who live near here. We just stopped by for dinner.’
Why a couple on vacation would be driving a beat-up old utility vehicle instead of a rental car was another matter, but he was gambling that these men were unlikely to detain foreign nationals without good reason.
‘I see,’ he said, lowering his Glock a little. The look of suspicion in his eyes made it clear he wasn’t buying it. ‘Then you will not mind if I check with your friend. I am sure he can confirm your story. What is his name and address?’
Drake chewed his lip, knowing this was going to be tough to explain away. Just their luck to run into the one rent-a-cop in the world who actually cared about his job.
