The Hit

Chapter





74





THE PRIVATE WINGS LANDED IN MONTREAL. That was where all the planes had come through on the way to the event.

After that Reel and Robie drove.

For a long way.

“Why here?” asked Reel. “Why have a summit for the Middle East all the way out here?”

“Where should they have held it? In the middle of Manhattan? On the National Mall in D.C.?”

“It’s not easy to get to.”

Robie said, “That’s one reason they chose it. Restricted access. They can more easily check people coming and going.”

“Who’s moderating the event? The UN?”

“The Canadians. The PM left the Dublin summit early to deliver the keynote at the opening ceremony.”

“Odd choice.”

“Odd everything,” agreed Robie.

The town’s main street wasn’t large, but it was well stocked with shops. To Robie, it looked like a place you might find inside a snow globe.

Trapped inside a snow globe, actually. Foot traffic was far higher than normal, as was the number of cars. But heavily armed checkpoints had been set up at all entry points. Cars were searched, the IDs of each vehicle’s occupants checked.

Because of this, Robie and Reel didn’t drive through any checkpoints. They were staying at a hotel outside of town. They had to leave their weapons behind when they separately entered the town on foot.

Robie walked the streets front to back, committing to memory all landmarks, the location of the major event—the town’s old city hall—and the security personnel who roamed the area. He knew that Reel was making the same sort of canvas of the area.

He had concluded that the multihit Godfather scenario was less plausible. It would require pinpoint timing and a lot of luck. And most professionals knew that neither one was, realistically, in ample supply during these sorts of missions.

It would be one hit, an all-out assault with concentrated fire or explosives on a central target. This included several leaders who headed up what amounted to terrorist organizations masquerading as governments. But then again, crazies had been allowed to address the UN in New York, so he supposed this wasn’t such a stretch. And some of them had been elected by a majority of voters exercising their democratic right to install whomever they chose to lead them.

Even if it was to oblivion.

He bought a cup of coffee and watched a group of turbaned and bearded men cross the street and enter another shop. There were many such groups here. All men. No women, at least that he could see. That was just how things were. And that was a big part of the problem, he felt.

Despite the chill he sat at an outdoor table and drank his coffee. His gaze kept wandering and he finally keyed on a group of men walking down the far side of the street.

He spoke into his mic. “Group of five guys on the east side of the street heading toward the hotel at the end of the street. Do a pass and tell me what you see.”

A few seconds later Reel emerged from an alley. She wore a hooded coat and sunglasses. She passed the group. Robie was the only one who noticed that she slowed down just a tad as she passed them. Her gaze seemed to be fixed straight ahead. But it wasn’t. It roamed over the men, taking in all relevant details.

That was what years of training got you, an almost supernatural talent for observation.

Over his earwig Robie heard, “Nothing.”

She kept walking and he heard her say, “Hold on a sec. Let me check something.”

She kept walking down the street. Robie watched as she passed a guy wearing a black warm-up suit, with a ski cap pulled low. He was looking down at the pavement but Robie could tell his gaze was also roaming.

Reel passed him. A few seconds later over his earwig Robie heard her say, “Bingo. Tag, you’re it.”

Robie immediately rose and took up the tail on the guy. As he walked he mumbled into his mic, “Talk to me.”

“That was Dick Johnson. Remember him?”

“Dropped out of the clandestine service about two years ago, or so I heard.”

“Disappeared was more like it.”

“You sure it’s him? I didn’t know him that well.”

“He’s changed. But what he didn’t change was a tat on his shooting hand.”

“What of?”

“Oh, pretty routine. A scorpion holding a gun with its stinger and the word ‘Mom’ inked on the scorp’s back.”

“Okay, that sounds about as good as a fingerprint for ID.”

“See where he goes.”

“You think he’s part of the missing personnel DiCarlo was talking about?”

“I doubt this village is a hot destination, particularly in winter. No place to ski.”

Johnson turned down one corner and a few seconds later so did Robie. He said into his mic, “Parallel us on the next street over. Then take up the tail after the next intersection. I’ll drop off and dogleg it over to the next street. We’ll keep up that rotation all the way to where he’s staying so he doesn’t get suspicious.”

“Copy that.”

They exchanged the role of trailing Johnson three times. The streets were crowded, which helped. Robie was behind him when Johnson went into what looked like a hostel. Robie went to a café across the street. He sat down at a table and waited.

A few minutes later Reel’s voice came over the mic. “Room 21, second floor. I saw three other guys in there I could swear were just like us.”

“I wonder how many they have.”

“More than four, that’s for sure.”

“Anybody pay you any attention?”

“One guy looked at me a little too long, so I turned around and started speaking German to the guy behind the desk in the lobby. He didn’t understand me, but the guy lost interest and walked off. Good thing I had a little plastic surgery done. But you didn’t, so keep low and your hat down and don’t talk much unless it’s in a foreign language.”

“Right,” said Robie.

“So what now?”

“We sit on Johnson and his team. Let them lead us where they’ll lead us. You know what they’re going to do?”

Reel said, “They’ll have to recon the site and do a walk-through.”

“That’s probable.”

“Do we hit them then?”

“Love to, but we have one problem.”

“Our weapons are outside the checkpoints,” she noted.

“Right. Now, Johnson wasn’t wearing any security badges like the other grunts we’ve seen, so I’m wondering how they’re getting their firepower. Because it has to be here somewhere. They’re not going to beat these guys to death with sticks.”

“Maybe it’s waiting for them inside the security checkpoint,” said Reel.

“Along with whatever else they’re going to need to do this.”

“Which might just solve our dilemma.”

“And kill two birds with one stone.”

“Would be nice,” she commented.

“Yes, it would.”