She faced the voice and saw a handsome blond-haired man, his hands covered in blood up to his elbows. His eyes were purple and flat. Dead. Unbidden, a memory of her childhood dog came to mind — a large husky that had been hit and killed by a car. When Heather had found him, his lifeless eyes looked like those of the man in front of her.
The man restraining her said, “Whoa, Lucas, I didn’t sign on for killing a woman and a kid. They’re not on the target list.”
Lucas said, “No shit. I fucking get that, but we need to get out clean. I didn’t ask them to come here. Look at the bright side: It’ll help confuse the authorities. It’ll play right into our cover of random violence. They’ll have so many threads to run down, it’ll cover our tracks.”
Another man Heather hadn’t noticed, now holding Angie, said, “I ain’t doing that. No way. No amount of money’s worth this.”
Lucas snarled, “The mission takes priority. Don’t go soft on me. I’ll do the work. Just hold them still.”
Heather spoke for the first time. “Please. We won’t say anything. Please don’t hurt my baby girl.”
Lucas looked at her with something bordering compassion and said, “I’m truly sorry about this. Just the wrong place at the wrong time. Unfortunately, I can’t make it painless. It’s got to look like something crazy happened here.”
Before she could say anything else, Lucas shattered her jaw with a vicious right cross. She hit the ground on her hands and knees, feeling the blood spill out of her mouth. She heard Angie scream, “Mommy!” then felt something smash into her spine. She rolled over and surprised the men by rapidly crawling to her purse. Lucas grabbed her legs and jerked her back, but not before she had her cell phone. She hit 911 before he could stop her. He smacked the cell phone out of her hand, towering over her.
“You bitch. You just lost any sympathy from me.”
He hammered her broken jaw again. Everything went black.
Three hundred miles away, inside the Taskforce Headquarters, a computer started bleating.
11
The Tbilisi police car remained where it had stopped.
“Knuckles, this is Pike. Stand by for a FRAGO. Azzam’s about to deviate his line of march.”
“Roger. You want me to stand down?”
I thought for a second. Ordinarily, unlike our training exercise, this would be an automatic rollover, as the chance of compromising the team far outweighed any hasty plan that we came up with. But with the Georgians taking out the Chechen tonight, a rollover wasn’t possible. We would take him tonight, or start all over, waiting another six months to a year to get him — if we could even track him again.
“No, don’t stand down. I’m going to pick up a follow. We know he’s headed to his hotel. We just don’t know the route. Keep the same plan. Pick your guys up and get ready to drop them off somewhere else. I’ll see what road he commits to. Once I give you that call, do a map analysis and see what the most logical route would be to the hotel. Position on that route. If he takes it, take him down. If he doesn’t, we’ll wait for another day. You copy?”
“Yeah. I got it. I’m moving the assault team now.”
I should have called Blaine before changing the plan, but things were moving quickly, and we didn’t have time for a bunch of questions going back and forth. I knew the intent: Get the terrorist without compromising the team. I didn’t need a call to HQ to confirm that.
I watched Azzam out of the corner of my eye. He rounded the turn in front of the cafe, paused for a second or two when he saw the police car, then began walking again. I threw some money on the table and left the cafe, holding thirty feet behind him. Before I reached Rustaveli, Azzam turned left.
“Knuckles, he’s headed south down Rustaveli. I’m betting he’ll cross at the next light — the street we couldn’t figure out the name. You remember?”
“Yeah, I remember. It had that kindergarten school on it?”
“That’s it. I’m thinking he’ll walk up the street past the school, then head east toward the hotel.”
“Got it. Doing the map reconnaissance now. Looks like he’ll come straight up that street and get on his original route at the top, hanging another left. The only place to get him is at that turn. The road does a little zigzag up front, allowing us to snag him without anyone seeing the action from down the street.”
“Sounds good to me. If there is any chance of compromise, let him go. Understand?”
“Yeah, I got it.”
I looked at the kindergarten street, the one Azzam would use after crossing Rustaveli, hating what I was about to say. I said it anyway. “I’ll trigger him crossing Rustaveli, but I’m going to have to stay on the west side or I’ll get burned. From there, he’s your target.”
This was a major flex. I was supposed to follow Azzam up to the planned kill zone. That road was a well- traveled thoroughfare, the sidewalks on both sides used extensively by the local population. In the original plan, once he had committed to the shortcut, away from the pedestrians, I would prevent him from escaping the way he had come and provide command and control for the team during the assault.
The new road he was on was a thin, narrow hardtop without sidewalks and devoid of anyone at this time of night. I stood a good chance of compromising the operation by attempting to follow him, especially since his antennae were probably up looking for a threat. I would miss the assault, which sucked beyond words. It also put the entire assault in Knuckles’s hands.
There was a pregnant pause before Knuckles responded, “Good to go. Standing by.”
I knew Knuckles was now feeling the pressure, but decided that saying nothing conveyed more trust in him than any hokey attaboy I could give.
I watched Azzam stop at the next intersection, waiting for the light to change. I kept going, passing within five feet of him and continuing south down Rustaveli as if I had a different destination. I found a sidewalk food vendor about seventy meters away and got in line, awaiting my turn and watching Azzam.
I waited until Azzam was across Rustaveli and committed to the school street before calling Knuckles. I stepped out of line and brought my cell phone to my face so I wouldn’t look like a nutcase talking to the air.
“Knuckles, Hedgehog’s across. He’s about five minutes out. I’m headed to my car.”
“Roger all. We’re set. If he takes this route, we have him.”
“Roger. Once you have him, revert back to the original plan. Link up with me at my car and I’ll run interference back to base.”
“Got it. Next call will be jackpot or dry hole.”
12
Knuckles sat in his van, his mind working at warp speed. He was parked on the zigzag road just to the east of the kindergarten street, facing the kill zone, the three-man assault team in position, but the plan was now going to shit. He had picked the zigzag road as the perfect kill zone based on Pike’s following Azzam and triggering the assault as the team leader, something that was crucial to prevent the team from taking out the wrong person. They wouldn’t have the time to identify Azzam before assaulting. They needed to positively know that the next man in the kill zone was the target, and Knuckles was now the man who would have to make that call.
Unfortunately, the zigzag road worked for the actual hit but caused problems with the trigger. From where he was parked, Knuckles couldn’t see through the kill zone to the school street to alert the team, hidden in the shadows. The first he would see of anyone was when they were through it and in front of the van. He cursed silently.
“Where’s the Remington ball? We’re going to have to trigger with remote video.”
“In the small Pelican case right behind my seat.”
