Tristan said to Magnus, “Sergey, the head bad guy, seems to be keeping Jian’s phone with him most of the time.”
Magnus waited, watching him, and then nodded, the long tube between his eyes oscillating.
“There are at least four other people in the suite. All seem to be Russian and male.”
Magnus just waited, so Tristan kept talking.
“They’ve been watching TV a lot. When he walks around with the phone, it looks like some of the guys are sitting in chairs. They don’t seem to be vigilant, but it’s hard to tell. Someone might be standing and watching whilst the others sit. They seem to have semi-automatic handguns, not rifles.”
Again, Magnus waited, unspeaking.
“The several times Sergey has entered the bedroom where they’re keeping Jian and Anjali, we didn’t see anyone in there standing over them, but that’s not for sure. We just couldn’t see.” Tristan trailed off.
“Anything else?”
Tristan shrugged. “Sergey needs to eat more fiber.”
Magnus nodded. “Good. You will stay here during the operation. Our IT support technician will coordinate with you for surveillance and operational strategy.” He touched his ear and whispered, “Blaise, our contact is here.”
Blaze?Had Magnus saidBlaze?
36
Hackers
Tristan
Surely there wasno possible waythat the IT coordinator for Rogue Security was Tristan’s Le Rosey friend and fellow member of the Scholarship Mafia,Blaze Robinson.
A person walked forward. He was tall and athletic, but his shoulders were hunched. A hoodie draped over his face despite it being over ninety degrees outside and dark.
Just considering the guy’s posture and movements, Tristan relaxed just a little. However, between the darkness and the odd coloration due to the NVGs, he couldn’t see the guy’s face. “Blaze? Is that you?”
The guy lifted his head a little. Starlight revealed a straggly pale-colored beard on whiter skin, and his chin was more pointed than Blaze Robinson’s.
“I’m Blaise Lyon,” he said, his accent a melodic amalgam of French and German that Tristan recognized as probably Swiss. “I do not know you.”
“Sorry. I thought you were a friend of mine. The name, Blaze. That would’ve been a hell of a coincidence.”
His voice was low, almost menacing. “I don’t think I am a friend of yours.”
“Blaise,”Magnus said, his tone sharp.
Tristan held his hand out. “Pleased to meet you then, Blaise.”
Blaise kept his hands in his pockets and stared at Tristan standing there with his arm outstretched, and then he slowly removed his right hand and clasped Tristan’s for one firm shake before he retracted it and stuffed it back in his pocket. The black glove he wore was thin leather.
Magnus snorted and turned away. He called out quietly because his voice carried in the warm, dry air, “Alpha Team, go-time.”
Boots crunched on crusty desert soil, and bushes rattled.
Tristan said to Blaise, “Magnus says I’m supposed to liaise with you.”
“Yes. I will need to connect your phone to my computer to view the interior of the hotel room on our monitors.”
Uh, no.“You’re not plugging anything into my phone.”
Blaise lifted his chin, glaring at Tristan with one eye from under his hood.Definitely not Blaze Robinson.“And you are not connecting to my Wi-Fi or Bluetooth.”
