The Book of Spies

68

TUCKER AND Judd sat in the deep shadow of a gnarled olive tree above the compound. As they cleaned their faces and hands and brushed their hair, they studied the buildings and the fifteen men patrolling in the illumination of the compound's security lights. All had M4s and were watching the grounds and hills alertly.
"Wonder how many are in the main house," Tucker said in a low voice.
"With luck, they won't notice us with so many new guards. That'll work to our advantage."
"I like being the new guy. Fewer expectations for you." Tucker inspected his Uzi, then his knife and wire garotte. "The rear door looks good."
"My thought, too. You up for this?"
"Can you still ride a bicycle?"
"Like a son of a bitch," Judd said.
They slung their Uzis onto their backs and slithered on their bellies down among the tall grasses and bushes of the slope. Small rocks cut into Tucker's jumpsuit. After pausing several heart-stopping times when guards peered out onto the hillside, they reached the edge of the mesa and hid behind a row of manicured shrubs.
Waiting until the closest sentries were looking elsewhere, they ran behind the pool shed and crouched. Judd pointed to himself. Tucker nodded. He hated not being the one out front, but reality was reality--Judd was younger, stronger, and in better condition to take out the guard who would cross in front of the shed soon.
Listening to the sentry's feet pad across the marble path, Tucker crab-walked after Judd to the shed's far side. Judd inched forward, taking out a mirror with an attached bendable arm. He extended the arm, watched the mirror, then tossed both to Tucker and stood, pulling out his garotte.
From his low position, Tucker saw one leg appear and then a second. Immediately Judd stepped close behind the guard and dropped the garotte around his neck, yanking. The man fell back. Strangled noises came from his throat as Judd pulled him around and into the shed's shelter. Tucker ripped the sentry's M4 away and slapped on plastic cuffs. The sentry gasped, seemed to try to yell. Frantically he punched back with elbows and feet, torquing his body.
Tucker used the mirror to check for more guards, then looked back. Judd's grim face was frozen as he avoided the flailing blows. He lowered the man as he went limp.
They stripped him of his gear and clothes. While Judd put on the corpse's black khakis and black microfiber turtleneck, Tucker dressed the dead man in Judd's jumpsuit and smeared black greasepaint on his face and the backs of his hands. Peering carefully around, Tucker dragged him to the edge of the compound and rolled him deep into grasses.
When he returned, Judd was dressed and outfitted with the guard's radio, pistol, flashlight, and M4. He hooked on two grenades and checked the tracker to Eva's ankle bracelet, then slid it into his pants pocket. He pointed toward the house, where another guard would be making rounds. Then he pointed to himself.
Tucker nodded.
Using the mirror, Judd timed his exit, then vanished.
Tucker hurried around the shed. Sitting on his heels, he watched as Judd sauntered up to the next target. Just as the guard frowned, Judd violently bashed his M4 up under his chin, crushing his throat. His head whiplashed, and blood appeared on his lips. As Tucker ran to join them, Judd caught the guard and let his limp body down to the ground silently.
Tucker checked the man's carotid artery.
"Dead?" Judd whispered.
He nodded.
They surveyed around. No more sentries were in sight yet, and none showed on the other side of the rear door's window. After they stripped the dead man, Tucker changed into his black turtleneck and pants, at least one size too big, and cinched the waist tight. Judd added the finishing touches to the dead body and dragged it off to conceal near the other corpse.
As he waited for Judd, Tucker checked the M4 and examined the radio--and sensed more than saw someone through the glass of the door. He put a composed look of greeting on his face and turned.
The door opened. "Why aren't you patrolling?" The sentry was a straight tree trunk of a man, with a brush cut and a heavy jaw. A glimmer of doubt appeared in his eyes. "Who in hell are--"
Tucker slammed the butt of his M4 into the man's gut. It was always a safer debilitating shot than one to the chin. As the man emptied his lungs and started to double over, Tucker crashed the butt back up into his windpipe. Blood erupted from his mouth and nose. Tucker grabbed him, then hauled him toward the slope behind the shed where the other bodies were.
"This is beginning to look like a party with a bad outcome," Judd said.
Tucker rolled the man into the grass, watching as the tall fronds closed over him. "Let's go get Eva."