Knuckles felt his phone vibrate. He picked it up and said, “Tell me you got something.”
Pike said, “Fifth floor, rooms 501, 503, and 504. All under the same name, so it’s shooter’s choice of which one you want to bang first. You set?”
“Yea. Still trying to figure an exfil plan. Might take us some time, bringing one out every two hours or so. Can you support?”
“Of course. You execute and we’ll be by for pickup.”
“Roger that. We’re on the move.”
Before he could hang up, Pike said, “Hey, tell Brett to search them fully this time. I don’t want a bunch of dead bodies up there.”
Knuckles grimaced, knowing that the dig was really meant for him. He said, “Won’t happen. I’ll call when we’re secure.”
Brett said, “What’d he say?”
“He said for you to not fuck up the search.”
Brett said, “Hey, that wasn’t my fault! You broke his neck.”
Knuckles smiled and opened the door, saying, “It’s showtime. Fifth floor. Tell Veep we’ll pick him up on the way in.”
They exited the garage, meeting Veep on the street. Knuckles filled them in on the room locations as they walked, using the time to give them their slots in the assault. They reached the front door and Knuckles said, “Ready?”
Veep and Brett both nodded. He opened the door, entering the lobby and seeing a small atrium with a single sofa in front of the reception desk, a man and a woman on it drinking coffee. The clerk behind the counter looked up and Brett said, “Found him. Thanks for the restaurant recommendations.”
The man smiled and said, “No problem,” and they were past him, reaching the elevator. Brett pressed the button, the team forced to awkwardly wait in the narrow confines of the lobby. Knuckles had been in such a situation many times, but he still felt the thrill of being a wolf wandering among the sheep, the flock unaware of his true intentions.
When it finally arrived, they entered, Knuckles finding it as narrow as the lobby, like everything in this hotel had been sliced in half. Brett hit the fifth-floor button, the elevator inexorably rising.
It stopped, the doors sliding open with a finality of purpose, and Knuckles felt his pulse begin to rise. Veep held up the Flipper Max and Knuckles nodded. Veep and Brett exited, with Knuckles in the rear.
The hallway was thin and short, with the doors to all five rooms within eyesight, two on each side and one at the end. Veep moved to 501, then knelt down. Knuckles and Brett withdrew their pistols, holding them tight against their chests, barrel out. Knuckles rubbed Brett’s shoulder and herepeated the maneuver with Veep. Veep felt the contact, raised the Flipper Max to the pad, the lock clicked open, and he turned the handle, flinging the door in and leaning out of the way, Brett and Knuckles flooding into the room looking for threats.
It took only a matter of seconds to find the room empty, void of both life and even luggage, the bed made and the room clean. Knuckles said, “Next room.”
They repeated the procedure on 503, finding another dry hole. He said, “Last room.”
They stacked on 504, Veep hit the key lock, and they flowed in a final time. The room was empty of humans, but unlike the others, this one had signs that people had been there. A computer on a desk, a suitcase with clothes spilling out and toiletries in the sink.
Knuckles said, “Veep, pack all this shit up in the suitcase. Brett, you take 501 and I’ll take 503. Conduct SSE and see if there’s anything left behind. Search it like a crime scene.”
Chapter 58
Omar finally arrived, and the Ghost told Ramzi to lock the door. He did so, and the Ghost said, “Keep your voices down. These walls are paper thin.”
Omar took a seat on one of four bunk beds, the frame comprised of unadorned wood with a slap of green paint. He said, “Is this the best you could do?”
The Ghost said, “I’m through doing it your way. Every hotel we’ve been to has been compromised because of all the entry requirements. This place requires none of that. I paid in cash, and they don’t care about a passport.”
“But everyone in here is at least ten years younger than us. Most are half our age. What if they talk about the strange group of old folks who rented an entire communal room?”
“I’d rather rely on their possible gossip being overheard by someone who matters than giving Mossad the technical means to track us. Now, what happened?”
Before Omar arrived, all the Ghost knew was that something had happened to Khalil. Omar had called him in a panic, shouting that Khalil had been captured and to flee the hotel. The Ghost wasted precious minutes trying to ascertain the threat, and then had given up, calling Yassir, Ramzi, and Fatima and telling them to pack their belongings and meet him in the lobby immediately. Within five minutes they were dragging their suitcases away from the hotel, having to leave behind the mission equipment they’d stored in the hotel’s excess luggage area in the basement.
They’d paused at a coffee shop three blocks away, ordering drinks and reassessing their next steps. The Ghost had tried to contact Omar again, but his phone no longer functioned. At that point, he’d gone into escape mode, assuming the mission was aborted. He’d found a youth hostel in the La Boca area of town—a seedy establishment that catered to low-budget travelers and those who wanted to remain off the radar. They’d traveled to it, finding all the space was communal, with four separate large rooms housing bunk beds and a central area with a television and coffee machine.
He’d paid in cash for one of the entire rooms, and they’d retreated to it to plan their next steps. Yassir had begun calling contacts from the border to come get them when the Ghost’s phone had rung, displaying an unknown number.
