No Fortunate Son (21 page)

A
fter seeing the text, Braden’s first thought was,
We missed the business day
. He called Seamus, making sure it wasn’t a mistake.

“You want me to launch the Snapchat now? At this time of night?”

“Yeah. Get them moving across the pond. I’m sure they’ve got forces in place over here, but they’ll need to be redirected to Paris.”

“Seamus, even given the time change it’s dark over there. Nobody’s working. I’m afraid it’ll be missed. Best case, this’ll sit until morning.”

He heard his brother chuckle. “Braden, they’ve probably got twelve people staring at a computer screen waiting on our contact. Trust me, they’ll get it. You have the Bitcoin address?”

“Yeah. I got that.”

“Read it back to me. I need to know it’s correct.”

“You know they’re not going to pay up front, right? Who in their right mind would pay just because of a video? I mean, you’ve put me in a serious problem with the Serbs, and we’re not getting anything out of it. Tell me you’ve got this wired. Seamus, tell me you know what you’re doing.”

“Braden, calm down. I know what I’m doing. I’ve met Ali. He’s set to go. I’ve given him the cache location for the explosive, and he’s now fire and forget. The hostages are secure, and the plan is working fine.”

Braden soaked up the confidence coming from the handset. Something he needed. Something that allowed him to continue. He said, “Okay, Seamus, okay. I’m ready to go here.” He read out the Bitcoin address and asked, “You want me to send that at the same time as the Snapchat? Or wait?”

“Same time. You send the Snapchat, then send the message on the White House page. You need to tell me when you do it. Send me a text. As soon as that’s done, I’m giving them an address for direct chat that Kevin’s created. A way for real-time communication that’s autonomous.”

“So you think they’ll pay? Just because they see the video?”

“No. You’re right about that. No way will they pay at first. They’ll try to drag it out, try to get clues to our location so they can send in a rescue force. Which is where your diversion comes in. They’ll be talking to me but hunting you. We set off that trap, and then I hit them with the chat. They’ll be in a panic over the deaths. Stricken by our ability to be one step ahead. Then they’ll pay. We keep the prize, and they’ll pay.”

“How long will that take? I mean, how long until they get here?”

“I don’t know. Could be hours. Could be a day, but I’m betting it’s more like hours. That’s why you’ve got three people. Work it in shifts. Can you leave the hostages alone?”

“Yeah, yeah. We’ve taken to roping them up like the goats on a farm. We can leave them for the duration of the operation. Days if necessary.” He gave a brittle laugh. “I mean, it’s not like we want to be in the room with them anyway.”

“Good. But don’t let them suffer. That’s not our way. We get nothing by dragging out the suffering. Make them as comfortable as you can.”

Braden quickly said, “That isn’t what I meant. We still let them go to the bathroom and feed them on a schedule. I remember what you told me. I’m doing what’s right.”

“I know you are. It’s why I picked you for this mission.”

Braden let the praise wash over him, buoying his psyche. He said, “Keep me in the loop. I’ll be working the diversion, so I’ll be busy.”

“The Serbs ready to go?”

Braden barked a laugh and said, “Yeah, that wasn’t pretty. I swear, I thought they were going to gut me.”

“But they’re on board? Ready to execute?”

“Most of them are here. They left a couple of guys in Brussels, but they brought the hit team with them, including the females. They are
really
not comfortable with me controlling the timeline. Not
comfortable at all. I made them leave on the spur of the moment, and now they’re sitting around wondering why. I’m not sure they trust me anymore.”

“Did you clean out your signature in Brussels?”

“Yeah. I no longer have a room there.”

“Then we’re good.”

Braden said, “We’re not good. Only you are. Do you know why he left those guys in Brussels? He was going to use them on the operation, but he didn’t. You know why he’s not?”

“Why?”

“Me. He thinks we’re pulling something shady, and he’s left them there to find me after it’s done. He wanted some insurance in case things go bad.”

“It won’t go bad. Remember why we’re doing this. Keep the faith.”

Braden said, “For Brian.”

“For Brian.”

F
our hours later, in a deep fog, I felt something jabbing me. I rolled over and looked at the clock. Three twenty-nine in the morning.
What the hell?

I turned over and saw Jennifer completely dressed. She said, “It’s time.”

Irritated, I said, “No, it’s not. Jesus.”

My watch alarm went off exactly when I’d set it: three thirty. I slammed it to silence. I looked back at her, aggravated at the early-bird bullshit. I saw wide eyes. Someone who needed strength, not my whining about being awakened a minute early. Although I would have liked that damn minute.

I rubbed my face and swung my legs off the bed. “You ready?”

“Yeah. I think so. It’s still raining. That’s going to make it hard.”

I smiled. “And fucking cold.”

She said, “Thanks. That’s a lot of help. I wish I’d known I’d be climbing. I would have packed different clothes.”

She was wearing jeans and a black, long-sleeved tourist T-shirt we’d bought at a bar, with sensible leather shoes on her feet. She had her hair in a tight ponytail and had forgone any makeup. She oozed nothing but business, and it brought a smile to my face.

She said, “What’s so funny?”

“Nothing.” I pulled on my jeans and said, “You just look so serious.”

“Well, we’ll see how that works in about thirty minutes.” She started pacing while I finished dressing.

I said, “You okay?” She looked at me, and I said, “Hey, this is a walk
in the park. Remember Singapore? This is nothing like that. A one-story climb, with a huge window.”

She calmed down, saying, “Yeah, but it’s a driving rainstorm. And we don’t know the reaction time for anyone. We don’t even know about alarms. We don’t know anything.”

“We’ll have the cameras once you slave. Is Dunkin ready?”

“Yeah. I called him ten minutes ago to make sure he was set.”

Boy, I bet that early wake-up pissed him off.

Finished dressing, I said, “Okay then, let’s get it done.”

We took the back stairs to avoid the reception desk seeing us leave, exiting on rue Charles Buls and walking straight to the Grand Place. Now dead, the area was spooky. A large expanse of stone surrounded by gothic buildings made of granite, it was full of tourists and markets in the day. Cheerful and airy. Something people the world over came to see. At night, it became sinister.

As we slipped along in the darkness, it seemed the towering stone buildings were looking down on us with disapproval. We scurried through, sticking to the shadows, making a half-assed attempt at looking like tourists out for a stroll at four in the morning but knowing we looked skeevy slinking around.

We passed down the alleys of deserted restaurants, the chairs all on the tables, the rain dripping down. We saw not a soul. We skirted by the hotel’s alley entrance and reached rue de l’Écuyer. We paused, waiting for a car to pass. The rain had let up some, turning into a miserable drizzle.

I said, “You sure you can do this? The stone’s going to be wet as shit.”

She was a bundle of energy, her entire body vibrating in anticipation. No fear. No hesitation. Everything that had been said in the room was gone. I realized my question was stupid.

She pulled me into the wall, out of the rain and into the darkness. She said, “I get caught, you get me out, right?”

I said, “Of course.”

She nodded and clicked her earpiece, not even waiting on me, taking over the operation. “Dunkin, Dunkin, this is Koko, you on?”

“I got you Lima Charlie. Ready to slave.”

I heard the words from my own earpiece and started to say something, but she put a finger to my lips. “I get to say it this time.”

She pulled her shoes off and handed them to me. Standing barefoot, she took a deep breath, looked me in the eyes, and said, “Showtime,” then slipped around the edge of the wall.

I watched her leave and felt my emotions go into turmoil. Part of me wanted to stop her, a feeling of impotence flowing through me because I was putting her in harm’s way without a means of helping her. If she were hurt, it would be my fault. And I wasn’t sure if I could live with that.

I lost sight of her and began the long wait to hear she was inside, the rain dripping down from the awning I was cowering under. I heard a noise and saw a rat, scuttling about the adjacent outdoor café, looking for scraps. I waited a minute more, then leaned out into the street. I saw her thirty feet in the air, clinging to an outcropping of granite, her feet swinging about, searching for purchase. I knew she was in trouble, but, outside of standing below to catch her, I could do nothing. I watched for what felt like hours, but was probably five seconds, and saw her feet connect with a stone, her toes curling into the veins.

She paused, and I clicked in. “Koko, you okay?”

She came on, breathing heavy. “Yeah. I’m okay. This granite is slick as goose shit. You owe me big time.”

I smiled. “I’m always owing somebody.”

I saw her start climbing again and heard, “But this time I’m making you pay up.”

She reached the window, and I saw her lean over and place the slave device on the cable coming out of the camera, working the claws past the insulation with one hand alone. I heard, “Dunkin, slave in place. You got feed?”

“Stand by.”

A second later, he said, “Got it. All feeds. Nine cameras. You’re good. Everything is empty except for the front desk. Security is in place and bored.”

She started cutting the window. From the keycard, we knew this guy
had rented the room for three weeks. Since he was dead, we didn’t have a whole lot of fear of anyone finding the break-in.

She started to open the window, and I saw headlights on the road. I said, “Car. Hug the wall.”

She froze, and I waited. She was outside of the cone of the headlights, and the rain would make it hard for anyone driving by to see her, but movement would be a killer.

The vehicle passed, and she went back to work. Shortly, I saw her disappear, a black blob that simply ceased to exist.

I heard, “Inside. Room is empty. Some clothes, but nothing else.”

“Nothing interesting? No documents or anything else?”

“No. But we know this guy was in Dublin. He probably packed out to go there, leaving the bare minimum here.”

I said, “Okay, get to the garage. Get me in.”

I
left the alley and rounded the corner, walking to the indoor garage. I reached the entrance and said, “Dunkin, you got the view in the garage?”

“Yep.”

“Is it clear?”

“Yeah. Nothing.”

“Tell me if you see me on camera.” I retraced my steps earlier and said, “I’m set.”

“Saw nothing.”

Which made me feel a little bit better about our earlier reconnaissance. I said, “Koko, you coming?”

“Yeah. Thirty seconds.”

I waited, and then heard a knock on the door. I knocked back, and it opened, Jennifer looking like a bedraggled cat that had been thrown in a bathtub full of water. Except for her eyes. There was no misery in them.

She said, “Stairwell’s pretty secure. It’s not one used by the guests, but there’s a camera on the first floor. We’re going to be on tape.”

I pulled off my knapsack, handed her the Serb pistol she’d earned in London, then gave her shoes to her and said, “Not bad for a female.”

She put them on, saying, “Really? Funny, I didn’t see you scaling the wall.”

I said, “Touché. Let’s go.”

We retraced her steps up the stairwell, hugging the sheetrock to
avoid the single camera on the first-floor landing. I tossed her my knapsack and said, “Get out the radar scope.”

I peeked out the door and saw it was clear. The floor was small, with two rooms to the left—including the one Jennifer had entered—and two to the right, separated by about fifty feet of hallway. I made a beeline for the target room on the right, then held up, Jennifer bumping into my back like a Three Stooges act. I flashed her the keycard and nodded, a silent command. She placed what looked like a small brick against the door, reading a digital screen.

The radar scope was invented to give assault teams a little advantage when breaching a room, as it could see through walls and identify if anything living was beyond. It worked much better than thermals in that it would identify motion instead of just heat, letting us know if a human was inside, meaning we wouldn’t get amped up over a hot lightbulb. It didn’t matter if the person was sitting still. A heartbeat alone was enough movement.

She held it up against the door for a moment, then whispered, “Clear.”

I swiped the card. And got nothing.

Shit.

Jennifer tugged my arm and pointed at the room across the tiny hall. I nodded, and she repeated the procedure. She gave me the go-ahead, and I swiped again. The light went green.

We both stood there, surprised at the success. The light flicked out and I swiped again, then entered, my own Glock drawn. The room was empty and, after a quick search, gave us as little information as the room she’d entered from the street. I said, “On to the penthouse.”

We skulked back to the stairwell and went to the top floor. This one had cameras, I knew. I called Dunkin. “About to break the penthouse floor. Am I clear?”

I heard nothing.

I said, “Dunkin, Dunkin, you copy?”

I heard a snort, then, “Yeah, I’m here.”

I said, “Are you fucking sleeping? You little shit, I’m going to break your neck when I get back.”

Jennifer, hearing the calls through her own earpiece, grabbed my arm and shook her head, giving me her disapproving-teacher stare. I gritted my teeth and said, “Dunkin, are you monitoring?”

He came back quickly. “I’m here. Floor is clear. The room to the right has a tray of food outside from a delivery service, but your suite is clear.”

I shook my head, not believing I was inside a target with my backup asleep at the wheel. I said, “We’re going to break the plane of the door. You fall asleep again, and I’ll rip you apart. You copy?”

I heard, “Yes, sir.”

We exited and went to the penthouse, a
DO NOT DISTURB
sign hanging on the door handle. Jennifer applied the radar scope and signaled we were good. I swiped the next keycard and the light went green again. We entered, feeling a large space in the darkness. The door closed, and I saw some sort of bulletin board in the center of the room, but I had no time to check it out just yet. I pointed to the room to the left, and Jennifer stalked toward it. I took the room to the right.

I swept the space, moving to the bathroom, and heard, “Left side clear.”

I finished clearing my room and met her in the den. I flicked on the lights and saw something out of a Taskforce operations briefing.

There was a sand table on the floor, with little buildings and roads, and a bulletin board full of pictures, with notes above them in Cyrillic writing. Definitely not from a family planning a fun vacation.

Jennifer said, “What the hell is all of this?”

I leaned in to the bulletin board, reading the few English words on it. I said, “Bulgari. That picture says
Bulgari
underneath it. That’s what that asshole asked about before we killed him.”

Jennifer said, “What in the world is going on? What does this have to do with Kylie?”

“I don’t know. Get out your camera. Take pictures of all of this. We’ll send it to the Taskforce for translation. I’m going to search the rooms and see if I can find a connection to Braden.”

I left her to do the work and entered the bedroom I’d already cleared, now looking for clues instead of threats. Larger than most hotel
bedrooms, it was utilitarian, with a desk full of different international electrical outlets and a dresser sporting a forty-inch plasma screen. The bed was made, and there were no indications that anyone had used it.

Unlike the room outside, the desk and everything else were pristine, and I realized what we’d entered: the place was a TOC. A Tactical Operations Center for planning an operation. Nobody was sleeping in here. They’d rented the penthouse only because of the size. They could get the entire team in here for briefings to plan whatever they had going on. I had done the same thing more times than I could count, in more countries than
The Amazing Race
had stamps in its passport, which made me wonder who we were chasing.

I started to leave and heard Dunkin in my earpiece. “Man approaching. Man approaching. I don’t know where he came from, but he’s at your door.”