24 | CHICAGO
Dark men emerged from dark cars as they approached an intersection just a block from the river, guns strapped across their chests. Chicago PD SWAT officers, according to the badges and markings on their uniforms.
They checked Dodge’s and Sam’s IDs, then directed them to a small cafe on the next block.
Dim blue lights placed on tables gave them just enough light to see by, without showing through the heavy drapes that were pulled across all the windows.
A figure in Tactical coveralls hurried over. A black face mask hung low around his neck.
“We’re just finalizing our operational plans,” Tyler said. “Please join us.”
They followed him to a large hand-drawn diagram spread out on a table.
“Okay, guys, here’s the situation. The tangos are in an apartment, in a block on the other side of the street. About thirty yards north of us. The apartment is on the third floor.”
There were at least sixteen Tactical troops gathered around the table, and other chairs and tables had been stacked against the walls to make room.
Tyler continued, “Police have sealed off a four-block perimeter. The river is also being patrolled, in case they should escape and make it that far.”
He looked around at Dodge and Sam, and Sam had the feeling that Tyler had already been through this and was doing it again just for their benefit.
“Are you sure these are the terrorists who attacked us?” Sam asked.
“Vienna traced a video link from the server farm that launched the diversionary attack,” Tyler said. “It led right here. Solid enough for you?”
Sam nodded.
Tyler said, “Thermal imaging shows us two targets inside the apartment, currently sitting at computers. They haven’t moved from the computers since we’ve been monitoring them, no toilet breaks, no food, nothing. This suggests they’re in the middle of something.”
“Any activity on the wire over at CDD?” Dodge asked.
“No, nothing yet. But we want to get in there and shut them down as soon as we can. We have a sniffer pipe pulling air in from the apartment, and analysis shows traces of both cordite and ammonia, so it’s a safe assumption that they’ve got both weapons and explosives in there.”
He turned to the diagram, drawn in marker pens on a large sheet of paper on the table in front of them and illuminated with flashlights at each corner.
“The apartment block is roughly square in shape, with a central courtyard. The target apartment is on the far side. There’s an interior balcony off the apartment that hangs over the courtyard. That’s going to be our primary entry point. We’ll rappel in from the roof and hit the windows with a glass crusher from one of the apartments opposite. We’ll take out the front door simultaneously. Flashbang grenades from the window, and from the door, glycerol fog canisters. We’ll take out the power before we go in, of course, but they’ll have a backup power supply, so our main objective is to disconnect the tangos from their computers before they have a chance to do any damage. We’re using handguns, not automatic weapons. First round in the chamber will be a puffer, after that the hard stuff. Questions?”
Lots, thought Sam, who hadn’t understood half of it but didn’t want to appear stupid and ask.
A bleeping came from Tyler’s belt, and he pulled out a cell phone, reading the screen before announcing, “Okay, team, we have operational confirmation from CDD HQ. Plan is approved; we are good to go. You know your positions.”
Tyler picked up a neuro-headset from a table and positioned it carefully on his head.
“Dodge, Sam, there’s a couple of spare headsets on the far table, next to the monitors,” he said. “If you want to come for the ride.”
“I thought CDD didn’t use neuro,” Sam said to Dodge.
“We don’t,” Dodge said. “But Tactical make their own rules. They’ve been using neuro for years for nonverbal communication. Talking to each other during missions without actually making a sound. Now they’re fully equipped with video and audio feeds. Gear up—this’ll blow your mind.”
The Tactical version of a neuro-headset was unlike any others Sam had seen. It consisted of a rubberized wire framework that held the sensors. It was malleable enough to be shaped into position on your head, rather than being tightly compressed onto your skull. A short cable led to a compact receptor unit with a radio aerial.
“Don’t switch it on yet,” Dodge said. “You’ll want to be sitting down first.”
“Sitting down?”
“With the audio and video feeds, it’s just like being there. But you’ll need to sit down; otherwise you’ll end up falling over. You’ll be seeing what they see, in real time, and your body will tend to react.”
“Okay,” Sam said.
“You’ll probably end up falling off the chair in any case,” Dodge said. “But at least it’s not so far to fall.”
Tyler came over. “Any last questions?”
“What’s our entry point?” Dodge asked.
“Stay here till I tell you,” Tyler said. “Then head across the road, thirty yards to the north, to the reddish-colored door. Take the stairs, not the elevator—the power will be out—to the third floor. Our guys’ll meet you at the top of the stairs. Wear these.” He handed them both a small round device with a metal clip. “Infrared strobes. Just in case they don’t recognize you in the dark.”
Tyler moved away and sat at a long table that was covered in screens and other equipment. He produced a thick nylon strap, a little like a seat belt, from somewhere and strapped himself to the chair, placing both hands firmly on the table. In the dim light, Sam could not see Tyler close his eyes but knew that he had, from the sudden shift in the posture of his body.
Dodge put on his headset and Sam followed suit. The moment he shut his eyes, a grid appeared with sixteen thumbnail videos, one for each member of the Tactical team.
Some of the videos showed the roof of the building. Another showed the balcony of the apartment from across the interior courtyard. Others showed dark interior passageways.
He selected one of those, and it expanded to fill his vision, leaving just a few control icons at the bottom of the screen. As he watched, an arm reached up in front of the camera and a leather-gloved hand unscrewed a lightbulb in a ceiling fitting. When the bulb went out, the hand stopped, leaving the bulb in the fitting. It was too dark to see more than vague outlines in the corridor now, and he selected Night Vision from the control icons at the bottom. His world turned into a strange, green-glowing video game as the viewpoint moved farther down the corridor.
He clicked on a grid icon and was rewarded by the thumbnail videos again. He selected one of the rooftop soldiers and found himself on a low parapet-style roof where a small group of soldiers was readying ropes and strong metal clips.
“Move to strike positions.” Tyler’s voice sounded in his head. “Okay, we have final mission confirmation from CDD HQ. Targets are confirmed. Weapons free. Ready to breach. On my go, stand by, stand by …”
The view in Sam’s head swung around wildly as the soldier clambered over the parapet, looking down into the courtyard and glancing up at the night sky as he did so.
There was a loud thud somewhere nearby and a sharp pain in his elbow. Sam opened his eyes to find himself lying on the floor.
“Cut the power,” Tyler said. “And go.”