Hide and Seek (15 page)

“I’LL SAY ONE THING
for the guy, he can take a punch.” Aliki turned his vehicle north beginning a spiral search pattern for their missing FAO.

“You got that right, Joker.” Nagano moved to the front seat. “A shot like that would have floored Binky here.”

Crispin rolled his eyes. He sat near the opening between the driver/passenger area and the cargo area of the van. The vehicle rocked and swayed, and he was glad he didn’t suffer from motion sickness. “Binky? Really? Binky?”

Crispin hated being the new guy. Technically, he wasn’t the new guy on the team any longer. When he first heard about incoming replacements he felt a moment of exhilaration. Someone else would be the target of the verbal pokes and jabs. Then he learned that both men outranked and had more years of experience. Technically, Aliki outranked J. J. When all was said and done, Crispin, while longer on the team, was still the runt of the litter. That meant he would be the target of choice for a long time.

Nagano turned. “What? Binky is a fine name. Goes back to the days of kings in England.”

“You’re lying to me, aren’t you, Weps?”

“Aye, laddie.” The faux Irish accent coming from an Asian face made the situation more surreal. Nagano cranked his head around and continued searching the streets and back alleys. “See, Joker, the kid ain’t half as dumb as everyone says.”

“What?” The big man leaned a little closer to Nagano and tilted his head.

“I said, you drive beautifully.”

“I do everything beautifully.” The assistant team leader addressed Crispin: “Tell me about Boss, kid. I ain’t had time to get to know him. Is he a good leader?”

“Yes. I’ve been on one major mission with him and a few outings.”

Aliki looked at Nagano, to which Mike replied, “He said yes, but not as good as you.”

“Suck up.”

The van rattled, the engine hummed, but Crispin was sure he spoke loud enough to be heard. After all, Nagano heard him. An unsettled thought percolated in Crispin.

They slowed as they reached another intersection, and turned east. J. J.’s team would make the opposite turn the next street up. Together they would create a grid search pattern. J. J. made it clear it was unlikely they would see Amelia and the president’s daughter. The FAO was too smart and too well trained for that. Perhaps if they were in Humvees instead of an old van and panel truck, things would be different. At least they would be recognizable. Being recognizable would not be a good thing in this situation. While not as experienced as the others on the team, Crispin was an experienced soldier and one of the brightest—even if that was his own assessment.

The problem as he saw it was this: People who didn’t want to be seen were searching for people who didn’t want to be seen. To make things worse, all they had to go on were cryptic symbols left on the hood of a car. That’s what they were searching for now: more symbols. All they had to do was find symbols written in black marker and do it at night.

That last fact is what prompted J. J. to stay on the main streets first. Streetlights made the search for markings a degree or two easier.

“So you’ve seen Boss in battle?” Aliki spoke loudly, keeping his gaze scanning the road and buildings to his left. Nagano’s eyes traced the buildings to the right. With no windows in the cargo department, Crispin could only stare out the windshield.

“Yes.”

“He any good?”

Crispin didn’t like the questions, especially on mission. “He proved himself to me, although that wasn’t the issue. I was busy proving myself to our team leader.”

“Eric Moyer?”

“That’s right. A good man. A better soldier.”

Aliki nodded. “I’ve heard of him. Got a good rep. Who was the second?”

Crispin had a feeling the man was testing him; that he already knew the answers. “Rich Harbison. Big bruiser like you.”

“What happened to him?”

“Lost an eye on the last mission. Very nearly lost his life. Same for Moyer. Things fell to J. J. after that.”

“What mission was that?”

“The last one we did. You’ll have to talk to Boss if you want more details. Are you testing me?”

Aliki tipped his head.

Crispin raised his voice. “I said, are you testing me?”

“I heard you.” He shrugged. “Maybe.”

Crispin decided to be bolder than he felt. “Here’s what I can tell you, Joker. Boss is a great guy. Smart and dedicated. A tad religious but never pushy. He knows what he’s doing. He was our sniper and explosives man. The guy’s hand never shakes. It’s spooky.”

“Religious?”

“Yeah, he’s a Christian.”

Nagano turned. “A Bible thumper?”

“I wouldn’t call him that, but I’ve seen him reading the Bible many times. He was the heart of our team. You know, Moyer was the backbone; Harbison was the muscle. J. J. was the heart. His brother is an Army chaplain.”

The conversation died.

“What?”

“Nothing.” Aliki continued, swiveling his head.

“If you’re wondering if his faith keeps him from pulling the trigger when he needs to, I can put your mind to rest. He’s not one of those guys who lives to put bad guys in the crosshairs but he does his job.” He paused. “Without hesitation.”

“How far now?” Nagano asked.

“We’ve gone five miles north. I don’t think she would have run this far. Most likely she and the other chick are hunkered down.”

A voice crackled over the radio. “Move to pattern two.” Crispin recognized J. J.’s voice. “Roger that.”

The message went into the ears of every team member, so Crispin felt no urge to tell Aliki what he already knew. The big man turned the wheel and entered the first alley he saw.

The alleys were narrower than the streets but wide enough for easy passage. Trash cans, Dumpsters, and empty cardboard boxes lined the wall of the empty businesses. Crispin pitied the trash truck driver who had to negotiate the area.

NASIRDIN FOUND RASUL DJAPAROV
talking to a small group of men. Rasul was in his twenties, narrow from head to foot, with coal-colored hair atop a sadistic mind. He served in the army but was discharged against his will. Too many of the other soldiers feared him. It was in the army that Nasirdin first made his acquaintance and the man did not frighten him. Of course, Nasirdin never felt fear, even when, as a child, his drunken father beat him with a wood dowel. Emotion, he learned very early, was counterproductive. It was best not to feel fear, or love. Day by day, he learned to strip away those unnecessary things.

Nasirdin slowed his trot as he approached, sizing up the situation. Rasul held a handgun at his side. He smiled as if sharing a joke with the men. Nasirdin made eye contact with his man. Rasul motioned him to come over.

“My friends, this is the comrade I spoke to you about. He is a man of the people. You can trust him.”

Nasirdin noticed Rasul used no names. He nodded at the men, all of whom noticed the machine gun in his hand. Nasirdin grinned. “It is a violent night, my friends. A man must be careful.” They nodded.

“We were just discussing that. These patriots have a strange story to tell. Please, tell us again what happened.”

One man stood on one leg, leaning against one of his cohorts. “We were attacked by men with guns.”

“This night?”

“Yes,” the man said. “One of them attacked me. He beat me for no reason.”

“Tell me of these men. How many?”

“At least ten or twelve.”

That didn’t sound right. “Please, accuracy is very important to me this night. I can tell you are all brave men, solid stock. It is my honor to know you, but I need facts. Did they number ten or twelve?”

“No,” one of the other men said. “I saw only five or six.”

“It must be six,” another said. “There are five of us and they pointed guns at each of our heads. Of course, there was the one that attacked you.”

“Yes, yes, of course,” the injured man said. “As you can see, I’ve taken a blow to the head. My math has left me.” He chuckled but it sounded insincere.

“How were the men dressed?”

“Black. Black uniforms and they had masks on their faces. Well, except the one we caught by the car.”

“What car?”

“A few blocks down. There is a car with flat tires and bullet holes sitting in the street. The man without the mask was looking inside.”

Nasirdin exchanged glances with Rasul. “The silver sedan I saw down the road and a few blocks south of here?”

“Yes, it was silver.” The injured man shifted his weight on his one good foot.

Nasirdin studied the hobbled man. “What did he do to you, friend?”

“We were just offering our help when he turned on me. As you can see from my face, he came at me hard. He also broke something in my foot.”

“We should get some medical care for you.” Nasirdin was certain the alcohol he smelled on the man’s breath was all that was keeping him from screaming like a school girl. “But first, tell me about the uniforms. You say they were black. Where they all dressed the same?”

“Yes.”

“Black military uniforms.”

“Oh yes, definitely military. They had vests on and helmets. At least the ones with guns did.”

“But no markings?”

“No markings. Did anyone see markings?”

They shook their heads and said no.

“The guns then, what about them?”

“Military guns,” Injured Man said. “The automatic kind.”

Nasirdin rested a hand on the man’s shoulder. “Tell me, did they speak?”

“No. Not a word. Well, one growled like a dog.”

“Anglo? Asian? Slovic?”

“We only saw the one man’s face but he was as white as any of us here.”

“I see. May I ask what you were doing when you saw these men?”

A long pause greeted the question. “We were just going out for drinks.”

“You know there are riots going on, correct?”

The man looked away.

Rasul spoke. “I believe they found a liquor store with a broken window. I believe they were making certain no one was stealing an honest storekeeper’s wares.”

“Yes. That’s exactly what we were doing.”

Nasirdin forced the corners of his mouth up. “I believe you. Excuse me for a moment.” He stepped to the other side of the street, changed the channel on his radio, and made a call. A few moments later, he returned.

“Are we in trouble?” one of the men asked.

“No, of course not. You were doing what any good citizen would do, but I must ask one last favor.”

ON THE PROMISE OF
payment, the men led Nasirdin and Rasul back to the car. Nasirdin didn’t need guides. He knew exactly where the car was. He needed something else. They moved slower than Nasirdin wanted but the wounded man set the pace.

“There, there it is.”

“Very good. Show me where you were when the men attacked you.” Nasirdin watched as they stepped close to the vehicle. They turned as if they were posing for a picture.

It was then, Nasirdin thumbed off the safety, leveled the weapon, and pulled the trigger. The men didn’t have time to scream. Nasirdin wanted to conserve ammunition so he did a single sweep of the barrel, bullets striking the men in the chest. He looked at Rasul who seemed unconcerned about the massacre. “Make sure they’re dead.”

Rasul stepped forward, his MP-446 handgun in hand, and put a 9mm round in each of their heads, then walked back to Nasirdin as if he had done nothing more than pull a few weeds from a neglected garden.

“Burn the bodies and the car. Make sure they’re unrecognizable. I want it to look like the gas tank exploded. Can you do that?”

“I can. Where are you going?”

“To a pharmacy store.”