Nishin looked up. The Golden Gate Bridge was close now, straddling the horizon north of the hills of the Presidio. He felt more comfortable in the park. There were very few people about and there was foliage that he could melt into. The Koreans were more at home also. They left the paths and moved cross-country, spreading out like an infantry squad approaching an objective.
Nishin followed until they reached their destination, underneath the arch of the bridge itself. He watched as they slipped into the front entrance of Fort Point, one of the men breaking open the lock that closed the large metal gates. Nishin stayed to the side of the parking lot to the south, considering the situation. He knew this area based on the study he had made of San Francisco on the flight over.
The fort was old, having first been built in 1854 and completed in 1860, just in time for the American Civil War. For over seventy years it had been the dominating manmade feature on the southern land tip of the narrowest part of the Golden Gate. The fort itself was made of brick like a cousin on the east coast: Fort Sumter, which didn’t fare very well against the advent of rifled cannons. But although the brick walls would have quickly crumbled under the cannonade of modern weapons developed shortly after the fort was constructed, in the 1930s the unique construction — for San Francisco at least, a mostly wood and concrete town-saved it, because in 1938 a more spectacular manmade feature made its appearance on the point. The fort was in the way and initial plans for the Golden Gate Bridge called for it to be torn down. Only a strong protest by locals prevented the dismantling of the fort during the building of the bridge. So now the first southern arches of the bridge swoop over the fort, leading out to the south tower.
Nishin knew there was a museum inside the fort. Were the Koreans breaking into that? Was there some document or artifact in the museum that referred to Genzai Bakudan? And what were the duffle bags for? Setting his bag and case down, he opened the latter and pulled out the AUG and made sure he had a round in the chamber, then settled in to wait uphill from the fort, with a good view of both the open courtyard inside and the parking lot in front.
A faint noise up in the hills caught Nishin’s attention. It sounded like a car engine, but the noise was gone as quickly as it had come. He focused on the fort.
The time switch from the following night to this evening was something Lake would have done himself. That set him on edge because it meant the people he was meeting weren’t stupid. The lack of time meant several things. First, he had to rush to the drop site to pick up the weapons.
Second, he would not be able to put the meet site under surveillance. Third, any backup team he might request from the Ranch would not be here until tomorrow morning. As he had been working out, he had been mulling over whether he should call the Ranch and ask for help or if he would do this alone. He had pretty much decided to run this op solo and this phone call sealed it. There was no way he could get local backup, which was one of-the disadvantages of his deep cover.
Lake also knew that Ranch standard operating procedure required that he not make the meeting. Without backup standing by just in case he would be in a precarious situation, especially since the Ranch didn’t know he was doing the meet this evening. He had told Jonas the meet would be the following night and he should stay with that. Use his leverage as possessor of the weapons to make the buyers stay with the original agreement. But there was also the possibility the buyers might get spooked and go elsewhere. The mysterious Japanese-Patriot connection was too strong of a lure for Lake.
The drop site was in a storage unit. Lake unlocked the combination lock and pulled up the door. Two crates and one small box lay just inside, in front of other boxes containing various equipment. The Ranch was anything but inefficient. He didn’t know who had put the guns in there and he was sure that that person didn’t know he was taking them out. The storage unit was a good cutout between operatives and support personnel.
Lake uncrated the eight Ingram MAC-10s and the ammunition. The MAC-10 was American made and very popular with the drug underworld. It was made of stamped metal and very small, easily concealable under a jacket. These were longer than normal because of the requirement to have a suppressor on the end of the short barrel, which more than doubled their length to almost eighteen inches. The stock was made of metal and folded up along the body of the weapon.
The ammunition in the small box was also special, which explained why Lake had charged so much for the 9mm rounds. They were subsonic bullets, designed not to break the speed of sound; they worked in conjunction with the suppressor. The firer lost some power and range with the adapted bullets, but they made hardly any sound at all when fired, just like the ones he had loaded in his Hush Puppy. Because the weapon was automatic, though, the metal-on metal sound of the bolt working and rounds being ejected would make a sound, but very little when compared to the normal sound of a gun being fired.
Lake worked on one of the Ingrams, secreting a small transmitter underneath the small plastic piece on the back of the pistol grip; a place no one would have any reason to look. He tied the submachine guns together, then wrapped plastic bags around them, waterproofing both them and the ammo. The package was bulky, but he managed to stuff it into a large rucksack.
Lake relocked the door to the bin. He had time to make it to the designated meet site, just barely. He put the rucksack on the passenger seat of his old Bronco II and began driving through the streets of San Francisco.
As he drove, Lake put the finishing touches on the story he would have to give Feliks for breaking Ranch SOP. He considered the upcoming situation, but he knew he would have to play it by ear when he arrived since he knew nothing of the people he was to meet.
By the time he arrived in the Golden Gate National Recreation Area, he was shifting into his action mode. He continued down Marine Drive toward the fort. There was no sense trying to sneak up on the meet site since the other party held the advantage of time and place. Lake parked at the far end of the parking lot from the fort. Taking the rucksack, he left the truck.
The gates to the fort were wide open. Lake felt naked walking across the parking lot and he knew that he was being watched. He noted that there were no other vehicles about. As he entered the brick archway he sensed someone behind and spun about. Two dark figures stood there, blocking his way out.
“Come in!” a heavily accented voice echoed in the courtyard. The voice was high-pitched, which fit Jonas’s description of Asians. Lake turned and walked forward. The courtyard was surrounded by the fort’s walls, three stories high on all sides with brick arches opening to the mezzanines. Several cannon were mounted for display on the concrete floor. Lake couldn’t see who had called out. The voice could have come from one of dozens of arched openings on any side, from any floor.
Lake walked directly to the middle and put the rucksack down. He folded his arms over his chest and waited. The two men who had followed him were standing on the inside of the entrance, also waiting.
A slight shuffle caught his attention and Lake turned. Two other men were walking out of the shadows from the north wall.
“You have the guns?” the man on the right asked. As he cleared the shadows, Lake finally got a good look at his face. Korean. There was no mistaking the facial features.