Hal pondered the logic of the order, realizing they were watching him from above. He also noted that they lost visual when he was on sidewalks tucked against the tall buildings.
“It’s down the street on the corner,” Hal heard while seeing the corresponding flashing light on his target. “The one with the boarded windows.”
Hal spotted the five story apartment building with bland grey-stone features. There was no space between neighboring buildings and apartments. All the buildings in downtown Paris seemed to butt up to one another. The surrounding apartments appeared lived-in, painted with clean tan over stucco and smooth stone bricks. Compared to the dull, boarded-up building sandwiched between them — his target. As he drew nearer, he realized only the ground level doors and windows were covered with plywood. The windows from the second floor up were all intact.
“Target is on the third floor.” Hal looked up to the row of third floor windows, wondering how he would get in. Waiting for instructions. “There. Second floor window. It’s open. Climb in.”
Climb in? Hal thought. How? The surface looked like flat concrete. There was a lip of an overhang separating floors beyond his reach, and he knew his feet wouldn’t grab any traction on the smooth wall. He hesitated, inching toward the wall.
“Beacon to Ghost One… CLIMB!” McCreary said sternly.
Leap of faith time, Hal thought. He got a running start and darted straight toward it, like he was about to run through it. Hoping to build momentum to get a couple good steps on the wall that would propel him up within reach of the overhang. That was the plan. He leapt up and planted a right foot on the surface of the wall. To Hal’s surprise, it stuck like track spikes on a rubberized surface. It gripped too well, vaulting him past the first overhang. He panicked, having no hand hold. He stretched out both arms, palms spread wide, hoping at least to use the wall to slow down his imminent fall. To his astonishment, the moment he put his palms to the wall — they stuck—holding him in place. Realizing the grip on his gloves supported him, he assumed his shoes had a similar grip. He put both feet on the wall and proved himself right. He caught his breath and easily scaled the wall toward the open window of the second floor.
“Pause,” McCreary commanded, then turned to Baldo. “Thermal view.” Hal’s visor changed from night vision to a thermal view where heat images appeared through the wall. Glowing water pipes were the only thing to register. “The room is clear. Proceed. Enter.”
Hal slowly pushed the window fully open and climbed in. His visor returned to night vision and he found himself stepping onto the kitchen counter of an abandoned apartment. A cat dashed by, startling him. He climbed down from the counter and followed the flashing light, which appeared slightly above his line of sight. Hal opened the apartment door to a hallway with paint peeling off the walls. Jagged holes in drywall exposed a skeleton frame of boards beneath. The hallway lights were out and the entire floor seemed vacant of tenants.
“Proceed to the end of the hall. Look for a stairway.” Hal did as instructed, lurking down the hall. Loose boards creaked beneath his feet. “Walk against the wall.” Hal did, finding the boards didn’t make as much sound. He reached the stairwell, opening the door inch-by-inch to muffle any rusty squeaks, then tiptoed up the stairs. He entered the third floor hallway. His target room was halfway down the hall. His vision remotely switched to thermal view. He passed by a room, seeing the thermal form of a horizontal man, sleeping on a living room couch.
Hal went from apartment to apartment, arriving at the door of his target. The thermal image bloomed orange and red, filling the frame. “GET BACK!” McCreary shouted. A shout through a bone implant was much different than one normally heard through air — it resonated through his entire skeleton. Hal felt it all over. He stepped back. Clinging to a wall as it flew open. A Middle Eastern man bolted out, talking on his cell phone. Making haste to an apartment across the hall — leaving both doors open.
He’s coming back. Hal thought. He remained against the wall, waiting, invisible to the man.
“Turn toward the room,” McCreary ordered. It was a good idea, Hal thought, as it gave him the layout of the target room through the open door. The front living room was vacant, but several heat signatures were visible further away, in a kitchen, dining room or bedroom. Hal heard the man approach from across the hall, and ducked back, unseen. The man carried a cardboard box, holding the phone with his jaw and shoulder. He entered the target room and closed the door. “Grab it!” Hal heard over the bone phone. “Don’t let it close.” Hal thrust a gloved hand to the door, stopping it an inch from closing and locking shut. Hal saw the man continue his march toward the others, oblivious to Hal’s jamming the door.
Hal stealthily eased the door open. Softly entering. He could hear the conversations of a handful of men coming from the other room. Indistinct and Arabic. The thermal vision deactivated and he could see normally through his visor. The lights from the other room were enough to illuminate the small living room. Hal glanced around the room. An AK-47 leaned up against an old French couch. Open containers of switches and wires were on the living room floor. Bomb-making parts, Hal thought.
He made his way across the living room. Slowly approaching the lit room with all the voices. The apartment room didn’t look lived in at all. It was probably their armory, and they lived in surrounding apartments on the floor. Four men stood around a scuffed wooden table cluttered with bomb parts and what appeared to assembled pipe bombs. Along with more advanced, remotely-detonated bombs. The order came over his bone phone loud and clear, “Eliminate all targets.” Hal raised his MP10, realizing rifle fire from this range could ignite the bombs and kill him along with the four. Danger close. At the same time, there were too many to kill hand-to-hand. Hal observed one of the men train the others how to use a burner cell phone as a detonator. Showing them how the screen turned to a countdown clock. He then typed in a code to disable the ticking bomb.
“What’s he doing?” Baldo asked, as all eyes in the box locked on to the helmet cam monitor. “Why is he waiting?” It showed Ghost One backing up and moving to the side. Out of the way. He froze, slowly gazing around at his surroundings.
“Has he ever done this before?” Douglas asked. Even the new guy thought it was uncharacteristic behavior. McCreary appeared troubled by it.
“Command him to attack!” Trest’s voice boomed over the speaker.
“Beacon to Ghost One — engage!”
Hal watched the Middle Eastern man set the cell phone down on a counter behind him cluttered with bolts, screws, a soldering iron and duct tape. Hal eased closer to the counter.
“Why is he ignoring you?!” Trest hollered over the comms.
McCreary repeated the order. “Beacon to Ghost One, engage now! Eliminate the hostiles!”
They watched in the box as the helmet cam view backed out of the dining room and retreating through the living room the way he came. Ghost One inched the door open and stepped back into the hallway. Gingerly closing it behind him.
“What the—” Baldo said. Baffled.
The helmet cam monitor suddenly went black.
A loud knock rapped at the apartment door, followed by galloping footfalls dashing off in the distance. A hush grew over the men inside. The leader strode across the living room and peered through the peephole. He spied a distorted view of digital numbers rapidly counting down. Hal had snatched the cell phone and duct tape from the counter, activated it and taped it to the door before bolting to the stairwell. The man could only watch the counter race down to zero. Sealing his fate. He threw the door open in a futile effort to escape while screaming his last words… “ALLAHU AK—”