Now these men came into his territory, and he was told… No. Not told. He was ordered to work with them, these men of Alpha Tango.
He backed the truck out of the alley, then turned down a side road. The longer he drove, the more he thought. He had to be careful now, and more than ever. He couldn’t endanger himself or his assignment.
Grant’s temples pounded as he ran to the surveillance building. He reached for the door handle, then pressed the PTT. “Zero-Niner coming in.” He took a quick look around before going inside. Taking the stairs two at a time, he hurried to catch up to the Team.
Rounding the second floor landing, he chastised himself for assuming again. Head slap, Stevens! Never assume! Why’d he think the Agency would come through? This guy was supposed to be their way out of Shanghai. What the shit were they going to do if he didn’t show?
Hearing Grant coming down the hallway, Adler called softly, “Skipper! Over here.”
Grant walked to a dark corner where Adler, Stalley, and Diaz were sitting on the floor. James was standing to the side of a window, looking at their intended target — Bridge House.
Diaz patted the floor. “C’mon, Boss. Have a seat.”
Grant slid the rucksack off his shoulder and laid it near the wall. “You cooled off yet?” he asked Adler.
“Probably no more than you.”
Grant nodded then he looked for Novak and Slade. “Are Mike and Ken topside?”
Diaz opened an MRE, as he answered, “Yeah, they are.”
Grant reached into his rucksack, lifted out a folded map, then held it towards Adler. “Joe, take a look. See if you can find the shortest route to the river. If we don’t have transportation… You know what to look for. Use the coordinates for the boat location.” He looked up at the ceiling, then turned to leave. “I’ll be right back.”
Standing on the fourth floor landing, he called softly, “Ken, Mike.”
Ken Slade responded, “C’mon in, Boss.” He was sitting next to Novak, with a pair of binoculars hanging around his neck. NVGs rested on top of his head. His watch cap was tucked in his waistband.
Mike Novak sat on the floor by a window. His sniper rifle was attached to a tripod. He acknowledged Grant, “Boss.” His attention didn’t waver from continuing to look through the AN/PVS scope.
Grant crouched low as he made his way closer to the two men, then he squatted down. “Anything going on over there?”
Without taking his eye from the scope, Novak answered, “Quiet.”
“Seen any guards?”
“Negative.”
Grant’s brow furrowed. “Not a good sign.” He extended a hand toward Slade and took the binoculars. Scooting toward the side of a window, he got down on a knee before raising the binoculars. He leaned toward the window, doing a quick sweep of the building.
The Art Deco-designed building was situated on a corner. It had a curved front, with double entry doors made of glass, encased in tarnished brass. Grant counted seven-stories, without the basement.
“What do you think, Boss?”
“Don’t know, Mike. Without any visible guards, it’s possible there’s somebody hiding, waiting for us.”
“Always possible. He or they could be anywhere, though, and not just across the street,” Novak replied matter-of-factly. He continued looking through the scope, more carefully now, going from window to window, then rooftops and alleys.
“We need to get our asses over there,” Grant said through clench teeth. “Something’s not right.” He handed the glasses back to Slade. “What about lights? Seen any?”
“Nada,” Slade answered. “But if there’s a basement, it’s not likely we’ll see any. If anybody’s on a higher floor, they could be at the back.”
Grant scooted away from the window. “Did either of you eat anything yet?”
“Negative,” Slade answered.
“Both of you eat now. We can’t waste any time. Ken, when you’re done, meet me downstairs. You and DJ are gonna do a recon.”
Chapter 9
Daytime temperatures had reached a sweltering ninety-eight degrees. By the time the Team reached Shanghai, those numbers fell by only ten degrees, with the humidity remaining just as high, hovering around ninety percent.
Inside the surveillance building it was stifling, muggy, without any air circulation. The little traffic there was on this stretch of road had all but stopped. Only four vehicles had passed since the men set up surveillance. And that was four too many.
Grant rested a hand on his holstered .45 as he stood on the third floor landing, waiting for Slade and James. Finally, he heard in his earpiece, “Four-One comin’ in.”
Hearing the two men coming up the stairs, he went back into the room and waited.
“What’d you find?” he asked as they walked in.
Slade put his .45 into the holster, then grabbed his canteen from his belt. “Found one other door around back. There aren’t any lights along either the side street or back.” He unscrewed the cap and took a long swig of water. “Jesus! It’s miserable out there!”
Grant immediately asked, “Did you see any sign of guards?”
Slade took another quick drink, then shook his head. “Negative. We didn’t check side alleys, only the one running behind Bridge House.”
“And the back entrance door was locked,” James reported, as he reattached his canteen to his belt.
“I guess you didn’t see Kwan?” Grant asked almost knowing the answer.
“No sign of him or his vehicle, Boss,” James reported.
Grant bent down and picked up his Uzi, slinging the strap over his head. “Sonofabitch!”
“What the fuck do we do now, Skipper?” Adler asked as he was adjusting the earpiece.
Grant angrily pulled the .45 out of its holster and twisted the silencer, ensuring it was screwed tight on the barrel. What he was picturing was Kwan’s neck in his hands. “Gotta go with backup plan, Joe. Have to try and contact Scott after we check Bridge House.”
“And how the hell do you propose we do that?” Adler asked with a raised eyebrow.
“I’m working on that. But I’m betting there’s some type of communication device inside. Whoever’s been holding our guys in there, has to be reporting to higher ups by some means.”
“And if our guys aren’t there?” Adler asked with some hesitancy.
Grant lowered his head briefly. “They’ve gotta be there, Joe.”
“Yeah, Skipper. You’re right. They’ve gotta be.”
Grant continued with his thought process. “If Kwan doesn’t show, we’ll be on our own finding our way to the river. You found a route, didn’t you, Joe?”
“The best one I could find. It may not be the shortest route, but it looks like there are enough places for us to stay under cover,” Adler answered. He stepped directly in front of Grant, looking into intense brown eyes. “But if I know you, we’ll be searching for the tiniest shred of evidence that’ll put us back on their trail. Am I right?”
“Like I told Scott… we’re not leaving without them.”
Each of the men standing near him immediately gave a thumb’s up, with Diaz saying, “Fuckin’ A!”
James said quietly what they all appeared to be thinking, “We’re with you, Boss!”
“I didn’t have any doubt, guys,” Grant responded with a smile. He motioned toward the stairway. “Let’s go.”
Slade took the lead as they headed down to the first floor. Stopping at the closed door, he pushed the PTT, notifying Novak. “A.T. exiting.”
Novak pressed a finger against his earpiece and responded, “Roger.” He checked his watch, took one last drink of water, then hooked the canteen on his belt. He got as comfortable as possible on the wood floor. His rucksack was by his side, still open if he had to load a fresh clip. Otherwise, he was ready to haul ass when Grant gave the word.