do in the park. I did a commo check on my wire, and we made sure my GPS was up and running.
I had my Kevlar vest on, of course, and my Glock in a hip holster and the S W stuck in my gun belt on the left side for a quick crossover draw.
Stark noticed the sheathed K-bar knife on my gun belt, but he didn't comment on that.
I also had my cuffs with me, as per regulations, but I seriously doubted I'd get to use them.
On the subject of bringing him back alive, Bob offered me a can of Mace, and I said, 'Thanks, but I forgot my purse.'
Satisfied that I was good to go, he said to me, 'Okay, I'll be in a commo van, and I'm SO One, and you are Walker-'
'Hunter.'
'It doesn't… Okay, you are Hunter. As you know, the wire is an open channel, so when you speak, everyone on the surveillance teams, countersurveillance, and SWAT can hear you. But to keep wire traffic at a minimum, my teams will speak to me via cell radio, and I will relay to you-though if something is urgent, you will hear directly from a surveillance person on your wire.'
'Understood.'
He said to me, 'Good hunting, Detective.'
I said to him, 'If it gets late and the weather gets bad, will you let me know if the FBI guys went home?'
He smiled and advised me, 'This is not a good time for you to make FBI jokes.'
'Good point.'
So off I went.
I stepped outside and stood under the lights of the apartment canopy, then moved toward the curb and stood there a moment, feigning dejection or indecision. This was the only place where I could be picked up by the bad guys, so I lingered, without being obvious.
East 72nd Street is a wide, multi-lane road that runs both ways, and it's a busy street, so it would be hard for me to tell if anyone was watching me from the street or from a vehicle-but the surveillance team would have picked that up by now, and Stark wasn't talking to me on my earphone.
Remembering that Khalil had planned this for years, and that he had local assets here, my best guess, as I'd told Paresi, was that Khalil's friends had rented an apartment or an office on this street. And as I also told Paresi, these guys would be keeping my front door under 24/7 surveillance with a mini camcorder mounted in one of these thousands of windows. That was a fairly standard method of safe-distance surveillance, and all it took was money, manpower, and guys who didn't mind staring at a monitor all day and night, looking at an image of my front door. If you're going to kill someone, it's good to know where they are and where they're going.
I turned to my right and headed toward Central Park. By now, if I'd been seen, Abdul was calling Amin who was calling Asad.
I walked slowly along the sidewalks, which were still crowded with people despite the hour and the drizzle.
Now that I was actually doing this, it occurred to me that if Khalil was not holed up in this immediate area, it might take him awhile to get to the park and to make contact with his friends who were following me. And if they weren't pros, then they might lose me before Khalil showed up.
Therefore… if they did have an apartment or office on East 72nd Street, it could be not only their surveillance post, but also where Khalil was living and hiding out. There goes the neighborhood.
I continued on, and Bob Stark's voice in my earphone said, 'Hunter, SO One here-you read?'
I spoke to my condenser mic under my shirt, 'Hunter five by five.'
'Okay, we're with you, but I think you're alone.'
'All right. But I'll stop at the park entrance and you'll see if anyone seems interested in me.'
'Right. We have two people there-a man and a woman-right inside the park.'
He described their clothing, and I said, 'Try to keep your people away from me once I get deep into the park. I do not want you to spook any tails.'
'We're pretty good at this.'
'I know. I'm just saying I can protect myself.'
'Good. Next time you can go by yourself.'
I replied, 'Don't get pissy.'
'Copy.'
FYI, if you're walking along the street in New York talking to yourself, no one notices-except maybe other people who are talking to themselves.
Anyway, I crossed Fifth Avenue and stood near the low stone wall that surrounds the entire park. There were still a few pushcart vendors around the park entrance, and remembering that I needed to linger here, I took the opportunity to buy a chili dog. In fact, make it two. Hey, this could be my last meal.
I sat on a wet bench and ate my hot dogs, trying to look like a dejected widower, which is not easy when you have two magnificent dogs in your hands.
Anyway, I finished dinner and walked into the park.
I spotted the surveillance couple sitting on a bench, looking for all the world like lovers-not husband and wife, because they were holding hands and talking. Okay, that was not nice. More importantly, they did not look at me, and I sensed they were pros.
I kept walking, and as I got deeper into the park, away from Fifth Avenue, I was struck by how the mood and feeling changed-it was almost as though I'd stepped back in time to when Manhattan Island was all forest, meadows, and rock outcrops.
You can, however, see the lighted skyscrapers around the park, and in the park are paved paths lined with ornamental post lights. I followed one of those paths north toward my first stopping point, which was the Kerbs Boathouse.
The drizzle had kept the big crowds of promenaders away, and also kept people off the lawns. In fact, there weren't many people around tonight, and this was good.
I made my way north, then followed a sign and a path that took me toward the Kerbs Boathouse on the pond.
I tried to spot my surveillance people, but other than the couple, who were walking fifty yards behind me holding hands, I couldn't ID anyone.
I also tried to spot anyone else who was following me, but no one looked particularly interested in me.
In fact, a voice in my ear said, 'Hunter, this is SO One-you seem to be alone. Copy?'
I replied, 'Copy.'
And that was it. Nothing more to be said.
I got to the boathouse, which was used to house model boats for geeks, and I stood on the stone patio between the house and the pond and looked out over the water.
Somewhere across the pond was a SWAT team with sniper rifles, and they could shoot the chewing gum out of a guy's mouth and not chip his teeth. But it seemed that I was the only one here.
There were benches near the shore and I sat on one of them, looking despondent, which isn't hard to do when your ass is wet and the rain is getting colder.
I gave it ten minutes, and I was about to move on when Stark said, 'Someone approaching from the north.'
'Copy.'
I drew my Glock and held it in my lap.
I heard footsteps coming from my right and I glanced at the far corner of the boathouse.
A male figure-tall-stood in the glare of a lamppost. He was watching me, then took a few steps forward and walked slowly across the patio toward me.
He wore a long black topcoat that was too heavy for this time of year, and he was carrying a big bag, the way homeless people do, and as he got closer I could start to make out his features.
I kept an eye on him as he approached, but it was not Asad Khalil-though it could have been one of his pals.
He sat on the bench next to mine and said to me, 'How ya doin'?'
