One Rough Man - Brad Taylor [2]
Bull, the trigger for the takedown, said, “You sure it’s not a ghost?”
Bull was asking if I was seeing things that weren’t really there. “No, I’m not sure, but he refused to enter the alley until the target was clear, then walked at a pretty fast pace to catch up.”
If he was tracking our man, I had no idea why. We had no intel indicating the target had any security, or that anyone else wanted him. The guy could be police, a rival group, or even a countersurveillance effort protecting the target. Or he could be a lost tourist and I was jumping to conclusions. Either way, Baldy—and anyone else with him—would have to be separated from the target. If he was a tourist, it would take care of itself. If not, that left my team. And once we executed, we would need to be pretty damn swift, because after we got rid of this guy, his people would know someone else was on the ground and interested in the same target.
I gave a description of the trailer and watched him take a seat in the coffee shop, confirming my fears.
“Okay, listen up. We’re going to keep the plan. If Baldy’s not a ghost, he’ll follow our target into the planned kill zone. We’ll let the target go through, then take him out. Acknowledge.”
“Pike, this is Knuckles . . . we can’t duplicate this hit twice in one day. We’re going to lose the target. We need to develop the situation, not start thumping people willy-nilly.”
“We won’t lose the target, because you’re going to tag him at his table. Using that beacon, we’ll take him down at the parking garage to his apartment. That was our contingency plan anyway. It’ll just be two hits instead of one.”
“Pike, that damn beacon hasn’t worked yet. We keep getting false positives. We’re liable to take out some old lady.”
Knuckles was my second-in-command, or 2IC. He’s a Squid, but I don’t hold that against him, since he’s a SEAL. He’s just like me, only he picked the wrong branch of service. His call sign was Knuckles, but it should have been Mother Hen, at least while we were preparing for operations. Once we were engaged it would be something like DeathDealingSlaughterMonster. Right now, Knuckles was in mother hen mode. He was a finicky perfectionist. Someone who wanted to ensure that every piece of kit, tactic, or technique was absolutely perfect before being used on an operation. It wasn’t that he was rigid, since he was one of the best on fluid operations, and he did have a point. If everything’s perfect when you start, then working through contingencies, or what we call “flexing,” is that much easier. If you start with something that’s faulty, then you’ll be flexing from the get-go. The thing is, every operation goes to shit at one point or another—like right now. Doesn’t matter how much you plan. You can either handle the curve ball or not.
“Look, I get the risk, but we’re running out of time. We don’t have enough people to track both guys. Just tag the target and use your judgment. If you can’t get him, you can’t get him.”
“What if the trailer’s not alone?”
Knuckles was thinking right along with me. “I hear you. We’ll develop the situation enough to confirm or deny he’s alone. If he’s got someone else working with him, we’ll pass. If not, we’ll take him down in the primary kill zone, leaving you and Bull with the contingency for the target.”
There was a pregnant pause, then, “Roger. Out.”
“Bull, keep your eyes on Baldy and see if he makes commo with anyone.”
I watched a homeless man approach our target. Jesus, now what? This was turning into a circus. I was about to call Knuckles and warn him when I realized that’s who I was looking at. Pretty damn good job of camouflage.
He shoved a cup at the target, begging for some change. The man ignored him. Knuckles grew belligerent, bringing out the manager. I’m never going to hear the end of this. Knuckles was breaking the cardinal rule of surveillance by interacting with the target. On top of that, he was creating a scene that would be remembered after the hit. He was going to be pissed that I forced this on him.
The manager came out shouting.