Russ Whitlock left the Townsend safe house in his rented BMW at the same time the Jumper team’s van raced off toward the bus station, but although he and Jumper were after the same target, Whitlock did not follow the van.
He had a different destination in mind.
He parked his car in a lot of the main hall of the Stockholm central train station at five twenty-five.
Court had not told him how he planned on getting out of the city, but the decision to go here instead of across the street was an easy one for Whitlock to make. As soon as Parks announced that Gentry had been seen on cam purchasing a bus ticket, Whitlock ruled out a trip to the bus station. There was no way Court would have made that mistake. If he bought a bus ticket, he did it to deceive anyone watching him through security cameras.
Russ knew with certainty that Gentry would be heading out of the area some other way. The train station was close by, just to the south of the bus terminal; it was big and it possessed a cavernous underground area that made for good places to lie low and, more than for any other reason, it was where Russ himself would go if he were in Court’s shoes.
He entered the main hall of the train station and then headed downstairs, his eyes open to any Mossad watchers that might be here inside the building.
The Israeli embassy Skoda pulled into the parking lot on the west side of the bus terminal, and immediately the three Mossad officers climbed out and started walking between snow-covered cars toward the terminal building.
Ruth had an open channel to her team on her Bluetooth earpiece. “Mike, do you have eyes on us?”
Mike was across the street on an upper floor of the train station, looking out a massive window. “I’ve got you. The Townsend guys are outside, north of you, walking along the line of buses. Suggest you move into the terminal and find static survey locations.”
“Roger that.” Ruth looked at her watch. The bus was due to leave in less than fifteen minutes.
Even at this early hour there were quite a few people in the terminal, either purchasing tickets or waiting for their buses inside the warmth of the building instead of out in the lot. Ruth and her team split apart, moved wide along the walls, and did their best to scan everyone in the crowd as they moved.
As Ruth walked along the eastern wall she said, “This doesn’t feel right. He’s not going to be in here, just standing around. Laureen, you stay up here, find a window where you can keep an eye on Jumper. Aron and I will go downstairs. If he’s here, he’ll be someplace quiet.”
The two Israelis took the stairs down to the lower level of the bus depot, and instantly Ruth felt the hairs stand up on the back of her neck. It was a large, almost cavernous hallway, nearly empty at this hour, with a coffee shop just opening for the morning directly across from the stairwell. To the right of the two Mossad officers, the hall continued the length of the terminal building and connected to a passage that ran under the street to the underground area of the train station. A few people stood in front of some automated ticket kiosks and a single employee sat in a ticket booth in the middle of the space, but farther on, the east side of the hallway was shrouded in darkness. There was apparently some sort of construction project under way down here; a large portion of the hallway was closed off. Non-employees were kept out with caution tape and plastic sheeting.
Ruth said softly to Aron, “If he’s here… he’s in there.”
Aron nodded, and the two of them crossed the hallway to the coffee shop and sat down.
Court Gentry stood in the darkened construction area behind a metal scaffold stacked with wallboard, and from here he could see Ruth and her partner as they appeared from the stairwell. They were some forty yards from him now, and Ruth had removed the blond wig she’d worn the evening before. Court identified her only because he’d noticed the evening before that her black coat had a reversible gray interior, so he’d been on the lookout for women in gray coats since he’d left the bar.
He’d been standing here for a few minutes, keeping an eye out for any surveillance. He had intentionally drawn his pursuers here to the bus station, showing his face on camera and purchasing a ticket, and he knew they would come for him, but he had no way of knowing how long it would take for their operation to identify him and move people to the location.
He was impressed; it hadn’t taken much time at all. A few minutes earlier he’d been upstairs and he’d seen the group of men moving through the bus lot outside. They were about as low profile as a couple of Abrams tanks, but he could tell as soon as he began to track them that they weren’t here to move quietly like mist. They were a kill team, and although he had judged their covert abilities to be pretty lousy, he did not want to wait around to evaluate their skill at killing people.
And now the Mossad woman was here. Ruth had told him the night before she was no longer working with Townsend, but the guys upstairs did not look like Mossad Special Operations, so he assumed she had lied to him and Dead Eye had told him the truth. Mossad and Townsend were, in fact, coordinating their hunt.
When Ruth and her colleague moved to the right of his field of view, Gentry knew they had gone over to the little coffee shop. This he took as bad news. Unless they just happened to be really lazy intelligence officers, the only reason they would take a break down here shortly after their arrival was that they decided this darkened, plastic-sheeting covered construction area was a potential location for their quarry to use as a hiding place. They’d be watching this area now, which meant he could not cross the hallway back to the stairs to go up.
But this was of no great concern, because Court would not be returning to the bus station. No, the southern wall of this hall had access to a tunnel that went under the street to the train station, and Court knew he could move through the construction area until he was out of sight of the coffee shop, and then head that way.
The train station had been his destination all along.
Court looked at his watch, determined his timing to be just about right, and began moving through the dark.
Ruth and Aron had eyes on about 85 percent of the construction area from their chairs in the coffee shop; only the southern tip of the dark enclosed area was out of view. This portion ran all the way to the tunnel that led to the Stockholm central station across the street, so she knew her target could make his way over there without her seeing him.
It occurred to her this might have been his plan all along.
“Laureen, what’s happening up there?”
“The Americans are still outside in the lot. They searched the area and then split into teams; now they are standing around in the crowd trying to blend in.”
Ruth said, “They must have intel he is due to leave on a bus.” She looked back down the hallway. “I don’t buy it. They might have spotted him here at the terminal, but I bet he just came over here to throw us off.”
Mike came over the net now. “I’ve got eight trains over here all leaving between now and six A.M.”
Ruth said, “Okay, we need to shift part of our operation over to the train station. Mike, I want you to go downstairs, head over to the tunnel to the bus depot; he might be coming via underground. If he is, I want you ahead of him, in a static overwatch. Laureen, cross the street and take up watch in the main hall.”
Ruth now turned to Aron. “I want you back upstairs, watching Beaumont to see what he and his guys do.”
Ruth herself stood up and began walking alone slowly toward the tunnel to the train station, planning to fall in behind her target if, in fact, he’d gone that way.