“Let him go, we’ll revert to the original plan.”
I saw the Jeep screech to a halt at the end of the alley, then its flashers go on. The target stopped, silhouetted by the lights at the end of the alley. A flare exploded into life and floated in the air, landing five feet from the end of the alley. A second one followed.
The target was about a hundred feet away, standing still. I said, “Jennifer, just keep walking. When we get next to him, trap his hands.”
She didn’t ask a single question, just shifted her purse, putting it over her neck and sliding it around to her back.
The target turned and began retracing his steps, moving at a fast clip right towards us. He came abreast, saying, “Looks like they closed the exit.”
Jennifer reached out and grabbed both of his wrists with her hands. Shocked, he said, “What the fuck—” and I punched him straight in the mouth, a jackhammer blow with all my weight behind it.
Jennifer let go of his hands and he flopped to the ground, unconscious. I checked his pulse, found it steady, and said, “Grab the backpack.”
She did so and we skedaddled towards the Jeep, me saying on the net, “Fire it up. Exfil.”
Knuckles backed into the street and we jumped in. He began driving down Cumberland saying, “Where to?”
“The Robin team.” I got on the net saying, “Veep, Veep, have you initiated?”
“Yeah, a couple of seconds ago, but nobody’s shown up yet.”
“We’ll be there in two minutes. Get ready for exfil.”
Knuckles drove as fast as he could on the narrow streets, skidding onto Meeting Street and driving north. I saw Veep and Brett on the east side of the road and Knuckles slowed.
Veep and Brett piled in, asking what had happened.
I filled them in, ending with, “With any luck, the police will make aconnection to the Pawn guy. Worst case, he got a little tune-up for stealing stuff.”
Knuckles smiled, saying, “And now you don’t have to say anything about the police in the exercise AAR.”
“Well, yeah. That thought did cross my mind. Speaking of which, let’s go cock the terrorist safe house and get back into exercise mode. Long day tomorrow.”
My phone vibrated in my pocket, which surprised me, since anyone who would call was standing next to me. I pulled it out and saw the caller ID. I said, “Jesus, it’s Wolffe. How in the hell does he already know what we’re doing down here? Did Creed call his ass?”
I got blank stares from the team and answered. Wolffe said, “Go secure,” and I knew it was bad. If Creed had snitched on us I would have his ass. I waited for the encryption to synch, then said, “What’s up, sir? Why are you calling so late? Everything’s fine down here.”
“Good to hear it because everything’s going to shit up here. I need your team immediately.”
So it has nothing to do with our exercise.“What’s the fire?”
“You remember that assassin, the Ghost?”
Now really confused, I said, “Yeah, of course. I’m the one who captured him.”
“He’s escaped. He’s on the loose somewhere in America.”
Chapter 11
Shahroud Missile Test Site, Iran
Sardar Bagheri closed the door to the conference room, then locked it. He turned around and said, “Are we sure this room is secure?”
Brigadier General Amir Ali Hajizadeh, the commander of the Islamic Revolutionary Guard Corp’s Aerospace Force—meaning he was responsible for securing, transporting, and inventorying all uranium enriched to near weapons grade—bristled at Sardar’s words, saying, “It’s not wired for sound, if that’s what you mean. I own this base, and I certainly don’t want this conversation recorded.”
Brigadier General Esmail Qaani, the commander of the Quds Force, chuckled and said, “Forgive him. He’s not accusing you. He lives in the shadows, where everyone could be an enemy.”
Which was true. While the Quds Force was responsible for all external operations directed by the Iranian regime, from something as simple as passing funds to a terrorist cell to as complex as training and equipping a guerrilla army, only one unit within it conducted operations unilaterally, and Sardar was its leader.
