“Hey, Jules,” said Collins. “I’ll watch ya six for ya if ya want?”
She sighed. “Fuck you, Ray.”
“Heh… promises, promises.”
Jericho shook his head and smiled to himself. He paced idly back and forth in front of the car, scanning the crowds of people shuffling around Wenceslas Square — a place that had historically proven to be popular with tourists. Groups of women moved from store to store on either side of the boulevard that ran through the center. In the middle, he could see a large crowd of Japanese tourists posing awkwardly in front of the large monument, which stood proudly between the two roads.
“Okay, I’m inside,” said Collins over comms. “It looks clear. I’ve got eyes on Vincent now. He’s sitting alone eating breakfast. He’s got a briefcase with him.”
“Copy that,” replied Josh. “Sit tight, let him finish his meal. If he gets spooked and decides to run, we could lose him, and that information, forever.”
Jericho scanned the crowd expertly as he listened to Josh’s instructions. He had a tremendous height advantage over almost everyone around him, which was obviously beneficial, but the place was so busy that even looking down at the sea of people, he knew he’d struggle to pick out anyone who was trying to stay hidden.
Just then, however, something caught his eye. Maybe six hundred yards away, at his two o’clock. He snapped back, narrowing his eye as he focused on what he’d just glimpsed — a split-second image of something that triggered a subconscious familiarity.
“Was that…” Jericho whispered to himself.
He saw it again, clearer this time. A Mohawk haircut, poking up out of the masses.
“Shit…” He pressed his comms. “Guys, listen up. We’ve got company.”
“Who is it?” asked Josh.
“Damian Baker,” Jericho explained, strolling casually back toward the car and leaning against it, keeping his eye on the alley. “He’s a member of the D.E.A.D. unit I used to run. If he’s here, the rest of them are, too. And that means that whatever Vincent’s got, it’s important enough to warrant sending the best they’ve got to secure it.”
Jericho thought how Baker had always been a good, loyal soldier to work with, back when he was leading them. He shook his head, unable to grasp that it was only a fortnight ago when they were part of a close-knit unit, on the CIA’s unofficial payroll.
“Alright, change of plan,” said Josh. “Ray, make the approach now. Be delicate, but understand we don’t have much time. Julie, watch his back.”
“Copy that,” she acknowledged.
Jericho scanned the Square again. He still had a fix on Baker, who had taken up position across from him, maybe a couple of hundred feet farther down.
“There’s no way he’s not made me,” whispered Jericho.
“Alright, sit tight, stay frosty and wait for the others. Get out of there quickly and quietly,” replied Josh. “Can you see if he’s with anyone?”
“Negative. But the rest of them have to be here somewhere. I’ll find them.”
“We’re scanning the area now via satellite,” said Josh.
Jericho looked back over, but Baker had disappeared. He quickly scanned the immediate area, but saw nothing that raised a red flag to him.
“Fuck… I lost him,” he said.
“Never mind, I might have something,” replied Josh. “Across the street, on the roof of the hotel at your one o’clock.”
Jericho directed his gaze where Josh had instructed, looking to the sky. The rooftop had a large, decorative, stone barrier along the edge, with small gaps in between the waist-high pillars.
“I can’t see anything,” he said.
“We’ve got a sniper,” confirmed Josh. “Lying prone and staring in your direction.”
Jericho sighed. “Charlotte LaSharde,” he said. “It has to be.” He looked away casually. He knew she wouldn’t shoot without reason, as she’d need to retain cover until Vincent was in play. “Ray, whatever you’re doing, do it faster, would you? I’ve got a sniper marking me. Julie, how’s it looking?”
“Still clear,” she said.
“We need to keep Vincent inside. If I’ve got two of them on me, the other two will be tracking you.”
“You know these people, Jericho,” said Josh. “What’s the play?”
Jericho let out a taut breath. “These guys are pros. They won’t break cover until they need to, and they’ll be swift and effective when they do. We need to be better, simple as that.”
Jericho touched the gun at his back subconsciously before looking back up at LaSharde for a moment. He took a deep breath, turned away, and headed down the alleyway after the others.
“Coming to you,” he said.
Inside the hotel, Collins stood resting casually against the bar in the restaurant area, off to the left of the entrance. He’d spotted Daniel Vincent almost straight away, sitting alone at a table, sipping a glass of water.
He quickly scanned the room, dismissing the notion of any immediate threat. Besides Vincent, there was a family of three off to his right, and two young women sitting directly ahead.
He tapped his gun through his top, ensuring it was accessible on a moment’s notice, should he need it, and headed over toward Vincent. He had thick, short hair and a full beard, with thin-framed glasses. He wore a sweater vest over a shirt, with a tie fastened loosely around an open top button. He was sitting at an angle to the table, with his legs crossed and a briefcase resting by his feet.
He looked up as Collins approached the table, visibly tensing as they made eye contact. Collins held a hand up to him when he spotted the change in body language.
“Daniel Vincent?” he asked.
Vincent nodded silently with concern in his eyes, straightening up in his seat.
“Danny Boy, my name’s Ray — Ray Collins. I’m from GlobaTech, and I’m here to get ya home safely, alright?”
Vincent frowned, shifting nervously in his seat. “H-how do I know you are who you say you are?” he asked.
Collins made slow, deliberate gestures with his hands. “I’m gonna reach into my back pocket and take out my I.D., alright? Be cool.”
As his hand disappeared behind him, the unmistakable sound of automatic gunfire rang out. Instinctively, he scrambled over to Vincent, dragging him to the floor.
“Fuck!” he yelled, taking out his Negotiator and positioning his thumb to enable it. He looked over to the entrance to see a man disappearing behind a nearby wall for cover. Collins fired three rounds in his general direction.
“Hostile!” he shouted over comms, as more bullets sounded out around him. “Danny Boy, stay on the fucking floor, alright? Face down. I’ll handle this.”
He rolled away and pushed himself up, resting on one knee; his weapon ready in front of him, scanning the area. There was no sign of the hostile. He figured there was only one, but he wasn’t sure. He looked over at the family, cowering behind their table. He placed a finger to his lips. “Just stay down,” he said, looking at the man, who he assumed was the dad. He had his arm around the woman who, in turn, was shielding the young child in hers. “I’ll get ya outta here, I promise.”
He glanced over at the doorway, catching a glimpse of the man shooting at them. He was a good height, with dark hair and stubble.
“Jerry, where the fuck are ya, matey?” he asked, quickly looking back to check on Vincent.
“Coming to you,” he replied. “Sit tight.”
“Julie, I don’t like people shooting at me! Where are ya, girl?”
“Quit being a pussy,” she said, sounding out of breath. “I’m looping around the hotel to enter the restaurant from the other side. Be right with you.”
More gunfire sounded, and Collins hit the floor again as bullets flew past his ear. “Fuck — that was close!” He slid a mag of high explosive rounds into the secondary magazine well of his gun. “Let’s see what ya can do…” he muttered.