Foreign Influence_ A Thriller - Brad Thor [138]
They gathered up the crating material and Rashid made sure to wipe down everything he touched so as not to leave any fingerprints. The other men didn’t have to worry. Very soon, they wouldn’t even have fingers.
As Nasiri and the goons threw the garbage in the back of the truck and climbed in, Rashid pulled down the door and checked his watch. It was after midnight. Wednesday had passed into Thursday. The day of the attack had come and now it was only hours away.
Rashid climbed back into truck and started it up. As he drove off down the alley, he had no idea that Harvath and Casey had been watching him the entire time.
CHAPTER 68
As the truck exited the alley and disappeared from view, Harvath motioned to Casey and they stepped away from the Dumpster they’d been hiding behind.
“What do you think?” she asked.
Harvath looked up at the apartment. All of the lights had been turned out and the curtains were still drawn. “I think that they’ve got something very bad in those crates.”
“That’s what I’m thinking too. Whatever they’re planning, it’s big and they’ve got a lot of it.”
“Let’s go take a look.”
She put her hand on Harvath’s shoulder and said, “Wait a second. Shouldn’t we be sure there’s nobody else up there?”
“Trust me,” he replied. “There’s nobody else up there.”
“How do you know?”
Harvath started down the alley. “Because if they had more men, they would have gotten those crates up into the apartment a lot faster.”
Despite his confidence that the apartment was empty, Casey noticed that Harvath was still very careful about how he moved. He avoided motion lights and stayed close to large objects that could function as cover and concealment.
It had been hot and humid ever since they had landed in Chicago. There wasn’t any breeze and the alley was thick with the odor of overripe garbage. Casey was sweating. Her shirt clung to her back as she followed him.
Their target was a four-story brick building with a wooden set of fire stairs behind it. A section of chain-link fencing with a broken gate separated the property from the alley.
They walked down the narrow gangway and were about to mount the stairs when Cooper’s voice came over their earpieces. “Two new trucks just pulled up to the loading dock.”
“What are they doing?” Harvath whispered.
“Bunch of Middle Eastern guys have come out of the store and are now loading cardboard boxes.”
That place was like a clown car. Just when you thought it was empty, more of them crawled out, Harvath thought.
“Do you want us to follow them?” she asked.
“Only if you see someone matching Jarrah’s description. Other than that, hold your position and write down the license numbers, descriptions of the trucks, and anyone you see getting in.”
“Roger that,” said Cooper.
Looking at Casey, Harvath asked, “Ready?”
She adjusted the laptop bag she was carrying and flashed him the thumbs-up.
Harvath opened his messenger-style bag the rest of the way and wrapped his hand around the grip of his suppressed MP7 and led the way up the stairs.
Though the weapon was extremely compact, it was difficult to conceal beneath casual, summer clothing so they carried their MP7s in bags that wouldn’t look out of place in an urban environment. Beneath their shirts, each also carried a Glock 19 in a paddle holster.
All of the apartments they passed were dark. When they reached the third-floor landing, they could hear a television through an open window somewhere off in the distance, but nothing from inside the apartment itself.
They stepped carefully on the landing, just in case Harvath had been wrong about the unit being empty and a warped board gave them away. He moved to the door and pressed his ear against it while Casey covered him. He still heard nothing from inside.
He checked the door frame for any alarms or trip devices and when he didn’t find any, he tried the knob. The door was locked.
Harvath removed one of the lockpick guns that had been included with their gear and went to work. When the dead bolt slid back, he returned