75
Johnny peered out the side window of the panel van, waiting on his teammate to return, when his second in command, a guy with the callsign Axe, said, “Why are we taking this guy down again? I mean, specifically? Did they give you our intel requirements?”
“Not really. Just that he’s associated with the kidnappings. We take him and interrogate as fast as possible. We dig until we hit something worthwhile. Pike’s apparently waiting on intel, and we’re it.”
“That’s great. Pike. I should have known.”
Johnny said, “What the hell is taking Crash so long?”
Axe said, “Maybe he’s already accomplished the mission.”
Johnny laughed. “Doubt it. Not with the security he called in.”
“We going in as soon as he briefs?”
Looking out the window, Johnny said, “Still waiting on the call. Nothing until we get the execute authority.” He stiffened and said, “Crash is inbound.”
The door opened and the teammate called Crash entered the back of the van. He said, “Okay, I’ve got at least four PSD. Maybe one extra, but the last guy seems more like a secretary than actual physical protection. That guy called the Frog just left the bar and went back to his suite, taking some local talent with him. Real hammers.”
“So our biggest threat is a couple of hookers?”
“I wish. They’ve got one PSD at the elevator on the floor, then two outside the door, then the rest inside.”
“Going to be a fight?”
“Looks that way. He’s on the fourth floor, so we could climb, but that would take some time. And that’s after we waited for them to go to sleep.”
Axe said, “It’s close to two A.M., so it might not be that long.”
“I don’t know about that. You should have seen the chicks. They’re going to be busy for a while.”
“Doesn’t matter,” Johnny replied. “Kurt was pretty clear. No waiting. Pike’s standing by, and this is apparently critical. How can we get down the hall? Do we have cover?”
“Not really. The elevator opens at a T intersection, but once you turn the corner, they’ll have eyes on.”
“What’s the distance?”
“About fifty meters.”
Axe said, “Shit, I’m not sprinting half a football field.”
“I was thinking about the drunk routine. The one we did in Sudan? You good with that?”
Axe said, “Yeah. That might work. Better than running and gunning down a linear target.”
Johnny said, “Okay. Axe and I head down the hall. You deal with the security at the elevator. We get as close as possible. Anyone escalates, and it’s game on.”
Axe said, “I cannot believe I’m acting like a drunk to help out Pike. That bastard is going to owe me big time.”
Johnny’s phone vibrated, and he answered. Axe knew the decision by the look on his face. He hung up and said, “Okay, this is it. We hit hard, suppressed weapons. We interrogate in the room. We get whatever we can, and we leave. But we can’t kill everyone. Only self-defense. No offensive shooting.”
“What the hell does that mean?”
“It means this place isn’t designated a hostile force. Unfortunately. Kurt has no idea who this guy is or what he knows, so we don’t have authority to start killing. Only in self-defense.”
Axe said, “What if we can’t leave? If the police show up?”
“We go to jail. That’s straight out of Kurt’s mouth. You guys still good?”
Axe screwed a suppressor on his Glock, saying, “You have to ask that?”
The three exited the van, slinking across the cobblestone street to a boutique, high-end hotel overlooking the Atlantic. Surrounded by much older buildings, it kept to the local charm with its architecture but was clearly a cut above. Like the rich bride attending her first party with the redneck family. Wearing the same clothes, and trying to fit in, but failing miserably.
According to the intelligence Kurt had sent, the man known as the Frog lived on the penthouse floor, and the reconnaissance earlier had confirmed it. The floor consisted of two suites. The Frog had the one on the left, which wouldn’t have been a problem, except his personal security detail started their protection at the elevator.
Crash led the way past the desk to the cars. He pressed the penthouse button and said, “We get out, it’s game on. We control this right, and nobody from the desk will know. We need to hit hard. Really hard. Before anyone can call reinforcements.”
The bell rang, and Johnny held out a fist. The other two bumped it, and the doors opened. Johnny and Axe spilled out, shouting for someone named Felton, with Crash staying behind in the car, out of sight. The first PSD grabbed Johnny’s coat, telling him to stop. He jerked out of the man’s grasp and continued on, shouting, “Felton! You fuck! Your bride’s looking for you.”
Axe continued the charade, stumbling forward toward the T intersection. The bodyguard grabbed his shoulder, calling on his radio. Axe turned, drawing the guard’s full attention, and Crash put a barrel against his head. The guard raised his hands high. Crash pointed to the floor, and he sank down.
Axe and Johnny turned the corner, shouting and yelling for Felton. Weaving and stumbling, they saw the two outside the door. They got within five feet, and one advanced, politely telling them they were in the wrong spot. Axe said, “Bullshit. You’re hiding our friend. What’s with you, man? Where is he?”
The bodyguard pulled out a pistol, intent on jamming it into Axe’s face and showing he meant business. What he got in return was a display of controlled violence.
Axe trapped the pistol in his hands, then rotated underneath the man’s arms, torquing his joints in a small circle. He whipped toward the ground, and the man went flying over his shoulder, slamming into the carpet. Axe let go of the arm and hammered him in the temple with a closed fist. The man ceased moving. Axe turned to help Johnny, but it didn’t matter.
His target was down as well.
Searching the body, Johnny held up a keycard. Axe took it, glanced back to make sure Johnny was ready, then swiped. The light went green, and they exploded in.
They entered a den, Axe seeing a man on the couch and one at a liquor cabinet. The couch man leapt up, drawing a gun and aiming. Axe broke his trigger to the rear, popping his head back with a suppressed round. He turned to the right and saw Johnny holding liquor-cabinet guy by the hair, the man on his knees, compliant. Johnny hissed, “You had to kill that guy?”
Axe said, “Your guy doesn’t have a weapon.”
Johnny jerked his head to the right, toward the bedroom, and Axe sprinted toward it, Glock at the ready. He pushed open the door and saw a dream of every red-blooded male on earth. Two women on top of a man, both with impossibly inflated attributes. Both writhing and moaning. The target clearly had no idea Axe had entered. In a world of his own.
Axe hit the lights and the girls rolled off in confusion. The man sat up and yelled in a language Axe didn’t understand.
Axe leveled his pistol and said, “Sorry to interrupt, Mr. Frog, but I’m here to ask you some questions. Please don’t disappoint me with your answers.”
The girls began screaming, and Johnny entered the room. Into his radio, he said, “Crash, target secure. Clean up the hallway. Bring them in here.”
In a heavy accent the Frog said, “You fuckers have no idea what you’re messing with. None.”
Axe looked at one of the girls and said, “I don’t know about that. I think I’ve been in something similar.”
Taking that as a cue, one of the girls sidled over to him and, in broken English, said, “American. I speak American.” She knelt down, reaching for his belt, completely unashamed at her nakedness. Axe roughly knocked her away with his knee, spilling her to the ground and leaving no illusion of the state of play.
The Frog said, “Leave now, and I’ll pretend this didn’t happen. I have no money here, and I have powerful friends in very high places.”
Johnny said, “I’ll bet not as high as ours. We’re looking for Nicholas Seacrest, and we understand you’ve had some dealings with some Irishmen who know where he is.”
The words hung in the air. For the first time, Axe saw fear crawl across his target’s face.