"I didn't ask for a review. I asked what was wrong."
"I'm telling you what's wrong. It's something developed by the intelligence community for the intelligence community. Its technology is four years old, which means it's prehistoric. We need to start leveraging commercial infrastructure instead of this stand-alone, make-a-fortune-with-a-contract bullshit. Bottom line is the beacon works on satellite feeds, and the target broke the view of the sky."
I thought about what I knew of Charleston, and it clicked.
"He's already off the freeway. Into the spaghetti section where I-26 goes into downtown. He's underneath a bridge somewhere.
Check the map. Where would that be?"
Bull came on. "Meeting Street. He got off at that exit. Everything else is up high. Meeting goes underneath."
"Retro, how long does that thing take to lock back on?" I asked.
"About five minutes. Once signal is broken, it goes through a ridiculous self-test. He's in the open now, but we won't get signal."
Kranz replied, "Understood, but let's not assume the beacon failed because of a sky-view. Reaper, keep going straight into the crosstown. Bull and Pike, get off at Meeting Street. Bull, go south on Meeting; Pike cut left to East Bay and troll south, paralleling Meeting. Jesse, take King Street to the west and go south as well. I'll back up Reaper on the crosstown."
I was surprised by the call. Actually impressed. Maybe he does have some skills on this shit.
I said, "Roger," and exited the freeway.
Heading toward downtown, I began to review the hit we'd planned. The meeting itself was supposed to occur at the old city jail, a historical landmark that was now home to some sort of architecture school. We'd conducted a reconnaissance earlier and figured we could get out clean because the area was smack-dab in the middle of a government welfare housing area, with little to no foot traffic. There were no other commercial establishments in the area, and the building was just as advertised: a jail from the eighteenth century, deserted and dilapidated, with parking and easy access. No cameras or other surveillance systems, which worked both for the target and for us.
I continued down East Bay and found myself reflecting on how cool the city was. I'd never been to Charleston before, but it had grown on me in the week I'd been there. I was at that stage in my military career when you start thinking about where you want to end up, and this place looked pretty good. Heather, my wife, wanted to stay in North Carolina, but I was having none of that.
Need to get her down here for a weekend. See what she thinks.
My thoughts were broken by Retro.
"East Bay it is. Got the beacon stopped close to Market Street. Corner of East Bay and Pinckney. Looks like a parking lot near the carriage barns."
I immediately slowed and began scanning, wanting to get eyes on the target. Kranz began calling in the box.
"Pike and Reaper, get ready for an intrusion. See what's around there, where he could have gone. Bull, set up on Pinckney. Jesse, set up northbound on East Bay. I'll set up southbound."
I trolled south down East Bay and saw the vehicle inside some pay parking lot adjacent to a doctor's office. Next door was a dive bar called Big John's. Nothing else around.
Chapter 6
I called it in and parked, waiting on Reaper. It was clearly a local's-only place and not a tourist trap. I knew anyone breaking the plane of that door would get a stare, and I'd look strange as a singleton. Better to go in together.
Reaper pulled around and parked, and I asked his opinion.
"Well, he didn't go to the doctor. He either walked toward Market Street or he went in. My bet is in. There's nothing else around here."
We moseyed up to the front door, past a couple who were smoking cigarettes and going through the dating dance. The interior was dim, with a bar on one side and a row of booths on the other. The ceiling was adorned with women's bras and other bric-a-brac. My kind of place.
It was crowded but not unduly so. After the people at the bar turned away from us, I took a seat. Reaper asked the bartender for the bathroom and used that excuse to do a cursory search. When he returned, he said the target was in another room in the rear, sitting by himself.
"Can we get back there?"
"Yeah. There are a couple of pool tables. One's open." I ordered two beers and got some quarters while Reaper up.dated the team.
We were on our second rack, playing against a couple of college kids, when an unknown sat down with the target. Which caused us no small amount of concern. The intelligence indicated that he would meet someone at the old prison. The unknown meant either he was conducting two meetings or our ambush lo.cation was no good.
Nothing we could do about it. Reaper went to the bathroom again for some privacy to relay the information, letting Kranz sort out the implications. By the time he came back, the meeting was over and the target was leaving the bar, while the unknown stayed in place.
I alerted Kranz, triggering the box, then kept playing. We'd stay there until the game was done so as not to spook the unknown. I was no longer concentrating, instead listening to the calls on my little Bluetooth earpiece as the surveillance picked up the follow. Five shots later, the college boys sank the eight ball.
Reaper told them good game, and we racked our cues.
One college kid said, "That's twenty bucks each."
I said, "What are you talking about? We didn't bet."
"This is the betting table. You play here, you bet."
For the first time, I sized them up. The one talking was fairly big, with a shit-eating grin and a ball cap. The other was a little smaller but didn't look soft. He had a buzz cut that looked military.
"I didn't know that before we shot. Sorry. I'll buy you a beer."
Ball Cap said, "Fuck that. Pay up."
Reaper came over, put his back to them, and said, "We should just pay. Don't give the unknown any reason to remember us.
And we need to get back into the hunt."
I thought about it, then said, "Just so you know, if this was real, I'd do it. But it's an exercise that's going to be over in about two hours, so I could give a shit what that unknown thinks. I'm not paying them a dime."
I knew I was forcing a bad position, what with the exercise going on, but this sort of thing just set me off. Pushed my buttons in the worst way. Which was a fault of mine that I needed to work on. Tomorrow.
Truthfully, outside of the chance to bully the bully, I also wanted to see how Reaper would react. Would he fight, or would he do the smart thing?
I could tell they'd sized us up and didn't think we'd be much trouble. Reaper stood about five-ten, with longish black hair that made him look a little bit like a sissy that was just my opinion.
Well, mine and apparently these guys'. He didn't appear to have a lot of muscle, but I knew that was a ruse after the combatives training I'd done with him. The only thing remotely threatening was the size of his hands, which weren't abnormally large, but were bigger than they should have been.
Reaper grinned and said, "Remember, this was your call." He turned to Buzz Cut and said, "Sorry. I've conferred with my friend, and we've decided that you're full of shit."
Then he began walking to the front room, toward the exit.
I smiled at Ball Cap and followed. I heard them say something, then felt them right behind me.
We made it halfway down the length of the bar before Ball Cap shouted, "Hey, stop! You fucks owe us money."
I pulled abreast of Reaper to allow him to get into the fight and kept walking. Ball Cap said, "You hearing me?" and then made the mistake of lunging forward and grabbing Reaper's shoulder.