would screen him as he went back to the parking area.
Speed-walking back east down the brick walkway paralleling the Dubai Creek, he hit the end of the mosque wall. He wanted to remain undetected, so he swerved into a large group of swarthy men waiting on a water taxi to take them across the river. Once through them, he could see the parking area and had to assume he’d left all surveillance staked out on the mosque.
He quickened his pace, scanning for the white-panel van. He was sure it had dropped off a passenger, then parked to await further instructions.
He reached the parking area and saw no vans, white or otherwise. He walked between the cars, giving the area one more glance, then began moving swiftly toward the eastern road that bordered the village, intent on checking out the second parking area. If he saw nothing there, he’d simply leave the surveillance behind and consider his options.
Two rows from the traffic circle he saw the black man’s car. Sitting empty. He went to the passenger side to be sure and recognized the scrape on the passenger door. He glanced left and right, then scuttled underneath the back bumper.
He found where the gas tank came closest to the exhaust pipe and placed two magnets on the tank. He affixed the metal funnel to the magnets, knowing the gap created enhanced the shaped-charge effect. Satisfied, he attached one end of the soldering wire to the electronic trigger. He wound the wire around the exhaust pipe in a single loop, then attached the other end to the second lead of the trigger. He ended by pushing the arming switch.
It would take some time, but the soldering wire would eventually melt from the heat of the exhaust. When that happened, the flow of electricity in the trigger would be interrupted, and the charge would go off, penetrating the gas tank and destroying both the car and its occupants.
In the end, it didn’t really matter how much destruction he caused. The explosives alone would cause a police response, and anyone associated with the man would be investigated. It would tie them up for at least twenty-four hours, and that’s all the time he would need.
He rolled out from underneath the car, surveyed the area from his knees, then joined the flow of pedestrian traffic back to the water-taxi stand. He glanced back at the car and could see the tip of the funnel hanging beneath. It was definitely out of place, but wouldn’t draw any undue attention. Especially if the driver simply entered the car from the front without circling the trunk. He bought a ticket on a water taxi and sat with a group of day laborers all waiting to cross the creek.
50
I got the third “no change” call from Brett and realized that Lucas was going to wait outside the mosque for whoever he was tracking. I knew I was missing some type of opportunity and hated sitting there on my ass. I should be using the time for something else.
We’d confirmed that Lucas was a one-man surveillance effort, with the local acting as driver to simply pick him up and drop him off, which meant he had no one at the rear of the mosque. I thought about it, toying with the idea of trying to locate his target.
Initially, I’d restricted our surveillance box on Lucas to trailing behind, which also restricted our ability to react. In a perfect world, you’d have operators around him in a bubble, so that no matter which way he turned, if the eye lost him, he’d run into someone else in the bubble. Once we’d confirmed he was conducting surveillance as well, we didn’t want to spook the very target he was after, and since we didn’t know who that was, we couldn’t prevent him from identifying us over time and distance. Simply staying with Lucas would inadvertently confirm to the target that he was under surveillance-in effect, blowing the operation. In truth, we’d been on Lucas for more than three hours, and there wasn’t any way to determine if we hadn’t already compromised him.
I decided to press someone to the far side of the mosque and get a snapshot of anyone who exited. Might get us nothing, but sometimes little things like this ended up paying off big-time. I’d leave Brett and Decoy on Lucas and send Knuckles, since he was the easiest one for Lucas to identify. I could always pull him back around if it came to it.
I gave him a call, telling him the plan and asking him to relay it through his Taskforce phone to everyone else. He rogered, and said he was going to reposition to the western parking lot. Out of nowhere I experienced a deep sense of deja vu, the feeling bringing with it a tendril of dread.
A year ago, almost to the day, I had repositioned Knuckles and another team member for this exact same purpose, and they had run into a vehicle-borne IED. Knuckles had been ripped apart. The other team member had been killed.
Before I realized it, I had unconsciously hit redial on my phone to cancel the mission. I hung up before Knuckles could answer, physically shaking my head to clear the ghost feelings.
I inched my vehicle out of the alley I was hiding in anyway, wanting to see the route Knuckles would take. I reached the intersection and scanned left and right. Parking wasn’t allowed along this road, so if I saw a stationary vehicle, it might be a threat.
I exhaled. There was nothing but moving traffic. I put the car in reverse just as Knuckles passed me, heading west. He kept his eyes to the front, but gave me a one-finger wave from the steering wheel. As he passed I caught a glimpse of something hanging from underneath his left rear quarter panel, just behind the tire.
I leaned forward, trying to identify if it was my imagination or real. He kept going, but it wasn’t a trick of my deja vu. Some small piece of metal was sticking out from underneath his car.
I hit redial, and it went straight to voice mail.
“Pike, I can’t talk. Lucas is moving my way.”
“Fuck him. Dial Knuckles right now. Tell him to stop his car.
“What?”
My phone buzzed with an incoming call from Knuckles. I hung up on Brett without another word and switched over.
“Knuckles, stop your car. Get out of your car. I think it’s rigged with something.”
“Huh?”
“Get the hell out of your car!”
“Okay. Next intersection I’ll pull into an alley. I can’t stop on this road.”
“No! Get out now! It might be an IED.”
“Jesus Christ! I thought you meant a beacon.”
I heard a car door slam, then the sounds of him breathing as he moved away.
“I’m in an alley now. Vehicle’s shut down. I’m out. Now tell me what the fuck’s going on.”
I told him about the left rear quarter panel, leaving out the premonition that had made me look. He’d think I was nuts. While he checked it out, I called Decoy.
“You near your car?”
“No.”
“When you get to it, do a thorough scrub for IEDs. Knuckles has something he’s checking out now. Whatever you do, don’t just get in and crank it up.”
My other line buzzed with Brett.
“What’s up?”
“Lucas is on the move and I can’t stick with him. My heat state’s getting bad.”
“Forget him. Let him go. Link up with Decoy, but don’t start the car.”
“Why?”
“He’ll let you know. Lucas may have set us up.”
I hung up, thinking of the implications of an IED placed on Knuckles’ car. If it was real, then this whole day had been a charade. We thought we were the predators, when we’d been the prey. And Lucas had much more help than a simple driver. I prayed it was just my overactive imagination, with the biggest cost being me getting reamed
