passed up to him from below. He suspected they were taking too much equipment, but there were variables within variables, and they needed to be ready for anything.
He fitted a headset over his ears. Comm check, comm check, how do you read?
Five by five, Mike answered from the submersible's cockpit.
Mind the shop while we're gone.
You got it, Chairman.
Juan waited until the other three had clamored out the hatch and settled into the inflatable before releasing the lines that had kept it secured. As they floated free, he eyed another bundle of equipment they had left lashed to the deck and hoped against hope they would not need to use it.
The Zodiac's electric motor made a whine that was lost to the storm, and with its low profile they were all but invisible. Juan had to steer a few degrees off point because of the current of the mighty Rio de la Plata, the river that first attracted Spanish settlers to build BA.
They made their way toward the heavily industrialized port area where big freighters lay idle since so few countries maintained trade ties with the rogue nation. Cabrillo noticed that the ships here were registered to nations such as Cuba, Libya, China, and Venezuela. He wasn't surprised.
Because of the weather, there was virtually no activity on the docks that they could see from their low vantage in the inflatable raft. The big gantry cranes were immobile and the tower lights were off. He motored them under an unused pier whose concrete pilings were covered with mussels and sea growth that stank of iodine. The water was remarkably free of trash, thanks to the river.
Linc tied off the Zodiac while Juan cut the motor.
Hi, honey, I'm home, Mark quipped. They all wore foul-weather gear, but Murph had a particular drowned-rat look to him.
Cabrillo ignored the joke. He had his game face on. Okay, we all know the plan. Stick to it. We'll call when we've cased the building.
We'll be ready, Linc replied.
Juan and Linda stripped out of their nylon rain pants and jackets. Under his, Cabrillo wore a thousand-dollar suit, which he quickly wrapped in a Burberry trench coat. His shoes looked like wingtips but were in fact combat shoes with nonskid rubber soles. Linda had on a red cocktail dress that was slit up high and cut down low. Her trench coat was black, and she wore boots that nearly reached her thighs. Like Juan's shoes, these were designed for ease of movement and traction. Only another woman would notice they weren't quite the apex of fashion. They had no heels.
Juan climbed the ladder built into the dock pylon first, and Linda shot her two crewmates a look that said, Peek up my dress and you'll regret it, before following him. She pulled a little feminine umbrella from her coat pocket and popped it over her head. Because he stood a solid ten inches taller, Juan couldn't fit under it with her, and as they started down the quay he had to duck several times to avoid having one of its thin metal ribs gouge out an eye.
It took them fifteen minutes to cross the sprawling port facility and reach the main gate. Flickering light from inside the guardhouse meant the security men were watching television. Juan and Linda strolled leisurely past, and a few minutes later found a taxi cruising the deserted streets. Cabrillo gave an address a few doors down from General Espinoza's building. One of the junta's laws mandated that the cabbie write down their names and addresses from their travel papers. It was one more way for the government to keep track of its people. The lack of freedom made Cabrillo's skin crawl.
He grabbed the newspaper someone had left on the backseat and used it to cover his head when he and Linda got out of the cab.
They walked the last few feet to their destination once the taxi had disappeared around a corner. The first floor of most of the buildings were leased commercial spaces boutiques catering to the wealthy women of the neighborhood mostly, but a few restaurants that were closing up at this late hour. There were no other pedestrians on the broad sidewalk. The cars parked along the curb represented every German luxury-automobile company.
Falling rain slashed silver and gold in the lights cast from apartment windows above.
Espinoza's corner building had a glass-and-brass revolving door that Juan and Linda sped through like happy lovers, laughing at how wet they were and how glad they were to be home.
Cabrillo pulled up short almost immediately and laughed. Oops. Wrong building, he said, grinning drunkenly. He escorted Linda back outside. The doorman barely had time to step from behind the counter before the well- dressed couple was gone. In all, they had spent seven-point-one seconds inside the building.
More than enough.
Talk to me, Juan said as soon they were outside.
The doorman's wearing a gun in a shoulder rig, Linda said. There was one camera covering the front door.
Juan stopped dead in the street, disregarding the rain. That's all you saw? His tone was both mocking and disappointed.
What? What did you see?
Okay first, the gun under his shoulder was obvious. His suit was tailored to highlight it. Anyone passing by was meant to see it. It's a deterrent. What you weren't supposed to see and what you didn't was the pistol strapped to his ankle. His pants flared like bell-bottoms to hide it, but not well enough. Guy that carries two pistols will probably have a submachine gun behind the counter. He's definitely Ninth Brigade and not the regular doorman. Tell me about the cameras.
Cameras? Linda asked. We were in there for two seconds. Like I said, I only saw one camera, and it was covering the front door.
Juan took a breath. He had no desire to teach a lesson in this kind of weather, but he felt that to bring Linda along to the next level he had no choice. Okay. We were in the lobby for a tick over seven seconds. From now on, you need to be precise. You observed one guard and one camera. Yes?
Linda didn't want to reply, but she mumbled, Yes.
There was a second camera inside, just above the revolving door, that covers the elevator and also the counter where the doorman sits. It looks like it was just installed. The feed wires are exposed and just sort of strung up. Dollars to doughnuts, it was put there when they brought Professor Wright to this building, and it's monitored from the penthouse suite.
How did you see it?
Reflection off the mirror next to the elevator doors.
Linda shook her head. When I saw the mirror, the only thing I saw was us. Well, me, actually.
Human nature, Juan replied. First thing people always look in a mirror or in a photograph for is themselves. It's simple vanity.
So what do we do now? Check the back service door?
No, it'll have cameras, too. We can get away with the tipsy, lost couple once, not twice. If they saw us again, they'd call the police, or just take us into custody themselves.
We're going with Mark's idea?
Sledgehammer it is. They found a vestibule a few doors down that sheltered them from the rain. The street was so quiet that they'd spot an approaching police car long before they could be seen. Juan raised Linc on the tactical radio. We're a go. How are you guys doing?
Mark's out on the street and already has a car hot-wired, Lincoln reported. I've found what we need and am just waiting for the word from you.
Mount up. About how long to get here?
So long as the harbor cops don't give me any trouble and we don't get pulled over, we should be there in an hour.
See you when you get here. Juan switched frequencies. Mike, you out there?
Just chilling with the fishes.
Move to waypoint Beta. All locations had been worked out long in advance.
On my way. There was a slight catch in Mike Trono's voice. He knew the Chairman was getting a bad feeling.
Why reposition the sub? Linda asked.
