Foreign Influence_ A Thriller - Brad Thor [80]
CHAPTER 37
Vaughan lowered the radio and looked at Davidson. They had just driven out of the alley after dropping all three covert surveillance balls. “Is the placement of the second camera ‘not right’ because it’s not right, or because Levy’s not right?”
“Despite what I told you, he knows what he’s doing. He wouldn’t ask you to tweak it if he didn’t have a good reason.”
Levy’s voice came over the radio again. “Did you guys copy that?”
“Ten-four,” said Vaughan. “We heard you loud and clear.”
“You didn’t pitch it under a Dumpster, but you did manage to get it wedged behind a garbage can,” added Levy. “I wouldn’t be expecting a call from the White Sox this year.”
Davidson looked at him. “Is he pissing you off yet?”
“He’s getting there.”
“So what are we going to do?”
Vaughan really wanted a view of the back door of that building. “I’ll fix it.”
He climbed out of the Bronco and made his way into the alley. It was cluttered with empty boxes, splintered pallets, Dumpsters, and garbage cans. Though he didn’t have a terrific view, he did have lots of good concealment and he carefully picked his way forward.
Just before the building that held the mosque, he stopped and took a slow look around. If he was going to move the camera, he might as well put it in the best spot possible. Now that he was here, he wished he’d brought along a couple of the fiber-optic cameras as well. Having come this far, it would have made sense to go the rest of the way and get the best look at what was going on inside as they could.
The back of the building was covered in gray brick. The basement windows had been painted black and were covered with iron bars. The first-floor windows were covered with newspaper and also covered with bars. A broken lightbulb hung over the back door. The ground was littered with cigarette butts, despite a coffee can filled with sand, which the building’s smokers must have figured was a doorstop.
Vaughan identified a spot for his camera and stacked a few empty boxes around it so it would run less of a chance of being noticed. With a new hiding place ready, he went looking for the hard, black sphere.
There was a row of about five trashcans. The ball was fairly heavy for its size, and when he dropped it out the window he hadn’t expected it to roll very far. They must have been driving down the alley at a higher rate of speed than he had thought.
Pulling a flashlight from his pocket, he leaned over, tilted back the first can, and looked. There was nothing there. He slid out the second can and came up empty as well. It was the same story with the remaining three cans. Where the hell had that thing gone to?
Vaughan studied the alley. There were buildings, cans, Dumpsters, and trash on both sides. The camera could have rolled to the other side, but he doubted it. He had dropped it on the east side of the alley. That was where it had to be.
He came back down the row of cans, tilting each one out, and this time he saw it. Even if his life had depended on it, he couldn’t have made such a one-in-a-million shot. Sitting wedged inside a laundry vent or a drain opening of some sort was his missing surveillance camera. He pulled back the can and bent over near the wall to free the ball.
He was just beginning to stand when he heard something behind him. Vaughan had no idea who it was and had learned a long time ago that discretion wasn’t always the better part of valor. He was in a dark alley in a bad neighborhood on the trail of even worse people. He went for his Glock.
The move was met with a searing pain in his right hand as he was struck with a piece of rebar and his wrist was broken.
Vaughan spun and came up with his left hand in a fist. He connected with his attacker’s jaw and sent him stumbling backward. At that moment, the barrel of a gun was shoved into his face and a flashlight was shined in his eyes.
Though it hurt like hell on his right side, Vaughan raised his hands. “I don’t know who you are, but I’m a police officer.