He manipulated his tablet, pulling up a map with icons embedded. Most were of the locations we’d already seen the previous day. He pointed at a new one.
“I had a beacon installed into a briefcase he used. It hasn’t been much help, but it did go to these two locations. The first is the bed-down site he used until last night. The second is inside the Burj Khalifa. Those are the only two anchors I have, which, since the briefcase only moved once during this entire time, I’m assuming are important. He’s going to do something at the Burj Khalifa.”
“What were you going to do to prevent it?”
“I was going to hit the bed-down site and see what I could find out. From there, if I got nothing, I was simply going to stage at the Burj to intercept him. He’s going back there, I’m sure of it.”
That sounded like as good of a plan as I could come up with right now. I went through his pockets and pulled out his hotel key.
“Jennifer, head up to his room and search it. See if Mister Goody Two-shoes here is feeding us horseshit. Let us know what you find.”
“Where are you going?”
“The bed-down site.”
Knuckles squinted and motioned me outside of the van. I bagged Lucas again and exited.
“Pike, you need to let Blaine know what’s up before we do anything else.”
I got him on my secure Taskforce phone and relayed the situation. As expected, he balked.
“Pike, we’re at Jackpot. We’ve accomplished our mission. Let’s get Lucas on the Skyhook and call it a day. We don’t have Omega authority for anything else.”
“Are you kidding me, sir? His information changes everything. He’s confirmed another assassin, and the Omega was predicated on the hit being stopped with the capture of Lucas. Shit, taking him down didn’t alter anything at all.”
“You’re assuming he’s telling the truth.”
“No, I’m worst-casing it. If he’s not telling the truth, then we have nothing to fear because the assassin’s in the back of our van. If he is, we can’t afford to ignore it.”
“Let me get this information to Kurt and the Taskforce. He’ll get Omega and make this whole thing legal.”
I looked at my watch, feeling a chill. “Too late. Envoy’s on the ground. We either go unilateral, or he dies.”
55
The Ghost watched an attractive Westerner walk by him to the elevators. She had come from the back, and he wondered if they would bring the envoy’s party in that way. He hadn’t seen any metal detectors and assumed it was blocked off.
The itinerary he’d been given showed that the envoy should already be on the ground. The Ghost knew they would check into the hotel prior to going to Sheikh Mohammed bin Rashid’s palace for a personal visit. After that, the royal tour of the town, to include the Burj Khalifa.
A flurry of activity out front attracted his attention. Three Mercedes limousines wheeled up, and out sprang eight men, five in Western suits, three in traditional Gulf Arabic attire. He surreptitiously snaked a hand into his knapsack and turned on the IMSI grabber.
The men were met at the front door by a receptionist and led around the security in place to the northern elevators, manned by two large security guards. In seconds, they were lost from sight. The Ghost killed the power to his device.
He had to wait less than fifteen minutes before the elevators opened and the entourage spilled out again, walking at a fast clip. Caught off guard, he dropped the coffee he was holding and powered up the grabber again. The men were out the front door in a flash, and he wondered if he’d managed to catch any of the numbers the second time around.
He waited until the limousines were out of sight before exiting himself and flagging a cab. He went back to his hotel and examined the clutch of numbers inside the grabber. Each cycle was stored by date and time, allowing him to filter the results.
Since the grabber drew in every cell phone within range, he had collected over three dozen numbers in the short span of time he had powered it up. No way could he tell which number was the envoy’s by simply looking at the list. Which is why he had cycled the grabber twice. All he had to do was identify the cell numbers that were in both cycles. Those phones would have been within range of the grabber each time the envoy passed by, and thus would more than likely be part of the entourage.
He found twelve that were duplicated in each cycle. Undoubtedly, one or two were from the receptionist or even security, but that didn’t matter. He needed only one number associated with the entourage. One cell phone to seek out his IMSI grabber in the elevator and trigger the alarm. He’d simply plug in all twelve, knowing that somewhere in the batch lay the envoy’s own phone. The only way it would fail was if the receptionist or some other false number took a trip to the Burj Khalifa observation deck before the envoy, and that was a small chance.
He packed the grabber, seating it next to the WiFi repeater, then changed into his borrowed Burj Khalifa maintenance uniform. He patted the pocket to ensure he hadn’t lost the key card for the basement entrance. Now that he was at an endgame, he didn’t want to rely on anyone else, even his close friend Hamid.
He checked himself in the mirror, seeing the same frail man that others discounted, his thick glasses adding to the disarming effect. The reflection brought the start of a smile.
He was invisible to most people looking, a person not worth a second glance. A wisp of a man who others ignored, he had found his calling in not existing at all. In becoming a wraith without substance. The talent had allowed him unprecedented success in the past.
And so it would be here.
As Knuckles and I walked into the spice souk, I could see we were going to have a tough time trying to get anyone out of there in flex-cuffs. Especially since it would more than likely be a brown guy carried by a bunch of white guys. Well, three white guys and a black guy who spoke English.
Decoy came through my earpiece. “Got the bed-down, and you’re not going to like it. Third-floor room, only entrance is a very narrow stairwell. Rooms on each landing with people selling fake Rolexes and Coach bags on the first floor.”
“So we can’t get in without being seen?”
“No way. We can’t get in without being accosted to buy something.”
After exhausting every option he could think of, Blaine had finally blessed off on letting us crack the bed-down site. I have to admit, I was impressed, because he would eventually have to brief Kurt, and it would cost him his job, if not something more permanent. He had, of course, demanded a SITREP after the fact before giving authority for anything else.
We’d flex-cuffed Lucas to an anchor point in the van, purchased a set of noise cancelation headphones and taped them to his ears, gagged him, then put the hood back on. Finally, Knuckles had used a rear naked choke to render him unconscious. I didn’t want to leave him alone, but I only had four people and needed everyone for the bed-down site.
While Knuckles and I came up with a half-baked plan, I’d sent Brett and Decoy to pinpoint the location using the beacon Lucas had emplaced, which was still pinging strongly.
I said, “Give me a grid.”
