“We’re leaving in ten minutes,” Eric said.
Valerie swallowed hard, then nodded, her blue eyes shining. “I’m in.”
Eric smiled. “I knew you would be.”
After speaking with Eric, Greg pushed the Gulfstream to its limit, making the flight from Chicago to Nashville’s International airport in record time, but they still had to wait for Taylor, Mark, and John to arrive. The C-17 carrying their equipment would have stood out among the passenger aircraft, so the C17 diverted to Arnold AFB.
They exited the Gulfstream and were walking through the terminal when Eric’s cellphone went off. “Where are you?” he asked.
“Just pulling up to the entrance,” Taylor answered.
Eric hustled them to the front where a pair of white unmarked Ford transit vans waited, their motors running. It was still muggy in Nashville, and the sweat began to dampen the back of his shirt. He motioned for Deion and Valerie to join him and Taylor in the first van, while Nancy climbed into the rear van with Mark and John.
“Took you long enough,” Taylor grumbled.
“You know how it is,” Eric said, fumbling with the air conditioning. “Always waiting on Deion.”
Taylor raised an eyebrow, then turned and winked at Deion and Valerie. “Sorry ‘bout your vacation. You know Wise, if he ain’t having fun, nobody’s having fun.”
“Don’t you know smart asses get double duty?” he asked. “Drive.”
Taylor smiled, showing a mouthful of pearly white teeth. “I’m driving, Miss Daisy.”
They exited the airport and headed north. After a few minutes of navigating the heavy traffic, they pulled into a parking lot next to an abandoned manufacturing plant, the jobs long since moved out of state or out of country. Mark pulled the rear van next to theirs and they all got out and introduced Valerie to the team.
She gave each of them a nod, then said, “You all work with Deion?”
Taylor nodded. “We do the heavy lifting while Steeljaw and Deion kick it in the rear.”
I do miss this. “Mark? Did you get their covers?”
Mark handed Valerie and Deion tan manila envelopes. “These contain driver’s licenses, Social Security cards, and the other things you’ll need to secure the apartment. There’s also walking around money.”
Deion took the envelopes and passed Valerie hers. “What’s our cover?”
“You’re Deion Smith. You work as a fry cook at Captain D’s,” Taylor said. “Valerie Smith works in a preschool.”
Deion nodded. “Nice.”
“We’ve done a quick drive-by,” Mark said. “It’s a rundown complex south of the mosque, third apartment from Sadir’s.”
“That’s a lucky break,” John said.
“Do you know anything about the other inhabitants?” Nancy asked
“All civilians,” Mark said. “The usual suspects. Poor, alcoholics, small-time drug users. Abdhuhl Sadir lives in apartment three. You’ll be renting apartment one.”
“How far from here?” Eric asked.
“A couple of blocks,” Taylor said.
“Good. Let’s do a drive-by.”
He motioned for them to load into a single van. Taylor drove the short distance and Eric discreetly gave the complex the once over. It was a long, two-story brick-fronted complex, with a dozen units. The windows were dirty and the parking lot asphalt was cracked, weeds sprouting through the surface.
It’s seen better days. “Deion and Valerie? You’re up. Mark, when do they meet the apartment manager?”
“Approximately twenty minutes,” Mark said.
“You were sure I was going to accept?” Valerie asked.
He grinned. “You couldn’t withstand my charming personality.”
Taylor, Mark, and John laughed. Valerie smiled, but she also shook her head. “I’m not comfortable with this.”
“You’ll do fine,” Nancy said. “Meet the apartment manager, rent the apartment, and try to get the keys before he leaves.”
“Isn’t it going to look suspicious if we get out of this van?” Valerie asked.
“Don’t worry,” Mark said. “I’ve secured a car. It’s parked around the block, and registered in your false names.”
Valerie turned to Deion. “Your team thinks of everything.”
Deion rolled his eyes and glared at Eric. “They have their days.”
Taylor stopped the van and Deion and Valerie exited and got into the rusty blue Honda Accord and drove off, while Taylor headed back to the deserted parking lot where Mark and John took the second van. They drove back to the apartment complex and parked half a block down the street.
They waited patiently until a beat-up red pickup truck pulled in. A fat man with a stained white undershirt got out and stood in front of apartment one, tapping his foot impatiently.
Deion and Valerie pulled into the apartment complex and parked right next to the truck. They got out and shook hands with the apartment manager, who withdrew a master key ring, unlocked the door, and led them inside.
“Should we get audio?” Taylor asked.
“No reason,” Eric said. “We’re not here for him. We’re here for Sadir.”
“At least let me get it setup and directed towards Sadir’s apartment,” Taylor said.
There was a crackling over the radio. “Do we know where Sadir is?” Mark asked.
“Let’s see if Karen has anything.” Eric pulled out his laptop, plugged in his wireless card, and made the secured connection back to the OTM.
Karen appeared on the screen. “I can’t find a cellphone for this guy,” she said, frowning. “Nothing in any of the cell carrier’s records. He doesn’t even have the phone in his apartment turned on.”
“A paranoid terrorist,” Eric mused. “Just great. You have his file?”
“Immigrated to the United States when he was a teenager,” Karen said. “Hasn’t done much of anything since. Quiet. Preaches at the mosque. No social media, no Internet postings, no sign that he’s anything but legit.”
“Does he have an Internet connection?” Eric asked.
“Records indicate yes. I’m trying to get a tap on his ISP. If I can infect his computers with malware, I can remotely enable his microphone. Then you wouldn’t have to bother with this.”
“You don’t have a lot of respect for HUMINT,” Eric said, “but it’s a necessary part of intelligence.”
Karen rolled her eyes. “What if you spook him?”
“We don’t want to spook him, but he might already know about Syria.”
Taylor turned and gave Eric a hard look and said, “I vote we snatch him now. I promise you, we would make him talk.”
Eric considered it. The old Eric would have agreed. As an Operator, he was trained to act. But, as the head of Operation StrikeForce and Assistant Director of the OTM, he had to think bigger.
Those calls used to drive him crazy in the field, but he was beginning to understand their necessity. “What if he doesn’t know anything?” Eric said. “What if the bomb is already in the United States? What if snatching him triggers his cell to detonate? No, we have to find out what he knows. The intelligence is our priority.”
Taylor frowned, then nodded. “Here comes Deion and Valerie.”
Eric watched as they exited the apartment building, the fat man close behind, his eyes firmly fixated on Valerie’s backside. Deion made a show of withdrawing twenty dollar bills from his wallet and passed them to the man. The manager handed them the apartment keys, gave a lingering glance at Valerie’s chest, then got back in his truck and drove off.
“Looks like they got the apartment,” Eric said. “No background check. No calling references.”