The former Legionnaire set his watch alarm, shut his eyes and slept for an hour. He then rose and drove north to the meeting location. A crowded grass parking lot at the air show. The recreational vehicle lot.
Hugo smiled to the air show staff, who happily took his money in exchange for a weekly parking pass. He then parked his car and walked through the rows and rows of Winnebagos sitting in an endless grass field.
Overhead, the sky had come alive as a squadron of World War Two bomber aircraft flew by, their deep, guttural engines droning on. Massive dark silhouettes flew in formation as the hordes of spectators watched, using their hands as sun visors.
At last Hugo came upon a smaller RV with a brown-skinned man in shorts and a tee shirt sitting just outside the door. He sat in a folding chair, under the shade of a tall beach umbrella. Hugo kept walking, double-checking the area for surveillance before he approached.
The Pakistani ISI operative couldn’t have looked more out of place if he’d tried. Syed was monumentally stupid for coming here. It was very unlike him, which further concerned Hugo. Why were they taking so many risks? Was this really that important?
This security guard had on clothing that looked like he’d just purchased it off the clearance rack at a local sporting goods store, tags probably still on. He appeared grumpy and mean, not even paying attention to the air show. Instead, he was scanning the area, diligently performing his security job, and sticking out like a sore thumb.
The Pakistani man rose up, looking at Hugo as he approached the Winnebago, a suspicious look on his face.
“I’m here to see Syed.”
Movement in the window of the RV, and then the thin door swung open. “Let him in,” came Syed’s voice from the dark interior.
Hugo walked past the security man and entered the RV. It was cramped and looked barely used, aside from an electronics suite that was set up on the small kitchen table. The Pakistani intelligence officer shut the laptop on the table and motioned for Hugo to sit in the seat across from him.
“I thought you were worried about surveillance. I understand your men needed to come here, but what are you doing here in this thing?”
“We needed to blend in. This is what people at the air show do. Besides, there weren’t any available hotels within an hour’s drive. This was the best we could manage for now.”
“Well, call your man inside. He’s not blending in with anyone.”
Syed grew visibly annoyed. “I appreciate the concern. He has been in here all day and just went out to look for you. We’ll only be here for a short while longer. The meeting begins soon.”
Syed flinched as a twin-engine fighter jet thundered overhead. The noise was loud enough that it set off car alarms in the parking lot. Hugo still couldn’t believe that Syed’s organization held this meeting at an air show each year.
Well, this would be the last time.
Hugo said, “What does Williams think he is doing, killing so many in Texas like that? It’s not just his own skin that he’s risking.”
Syed ignored the question. “What happened earlier? You weren’t able to get to Upton?”
“It was not possible. There were others present. Two men and a woman. They looked American. They were very efficient.” Hugo described what happened in detail.
Syed said, “Who were they?”
“I was going to ask you. I was under the impression that your operation was still clear of American law enforcement and intelligence eyes. I took a few photos.”
Hugo took out his camera. He had removed the zoom lens, so it was less cumbersome. He preferred to use cameras instead of phones. Better resolution, better zoom, and most importantly — no connectivity. Hugo didn’t normally carry a personal phone, only the occasional burner. He’d known too many competitors who were dead because they’d used a cell phone.
Syed’s face darkened as he looked at the images. “One can never assume oneself to be completely clear of surveillance. Those who do usually wind up dead or compromised.”
Hugo hummed agreement. “So you think it is the CIA or FBI?”
“Most likely, yes.” Syed said something in Urdu that sounded like a curse. “You are sure that you weren’t followed here?”
“As sure as I can be. Have you handled the arrangements I asked you to make inside the air show?”
Syed nodded. “Everything you asked for has been set up. My contact will meet you tomorrow morning. He’ll have a spot for you here.”
Syed pointed to a spot on the air show map.
“That will do perfectly. I should have a clear line of sight to the target. I will re-check when I am there.”
“Good.”
“I will have free time tonight. Are you sure that you do not want me to locate Upton? If it is the Americans, I assume that they’ve moved her to a safe house and will interrogate her. Is that a problem?”
“Yes. It is a problem.”
“Then do you want me to solve your problem?” Hugo’s tone was filled with impatience. He liked the fees the ISI paid him, but sometimes they were slow to act.
“No. Williams wishes to be involved now.”
“I thought he was your agent. Now he tells you what he wants?”
“Our relationship has evolved over time.”
“Perhaps our relationship should evolve.”
“Not if you want to keep getting paid.”
Hugo snorted. “He already knows that I don’t have Upton?”
“He does.”
“Will he now use the same men he used in Texas?”
“Don’t concern yourself with that.”
“The woman was my target. I don’t get paid if I don’t do the job. Of course it is my concern. And Williams’s men will make a public mess. I don’t want to deal with the hassle when I lose you as a client because you ended up in an American prison.”
Syed tilted his head, smiling like he thought this was a joke. The Pakistani man rose. “I appreciate your concern. Come with me. We will go now.”
Hugo said, “Where are we going?”
“To see Williams.”
Chapter 22
Hugo followed the Pakistanis in his car. They drove along Route 45, paralleling the shore of Lake Winnebago. They passed an inlet with a sign that read “Seaplane Base.” A multiengine aircraft was visible from the road, floating in the water, its props spinning as a gathered crowd took pictures.
Ten minutes further south, Syed’s RV turned left onto a long gravel driveway. The vehicle stopped at a wrought-iron gate, an eight-foot-high stone wall spreading out on either side and surrounding the property.
The gate was being guarded by two Hispanic men, who approached both vehicles and inspected them carefully. Hugo saw that the first security guard was carrying a holstered pistol. A third man stood inside a small guardhouse positioned just behind and to the right of the entrance gate. He held some sort of small Uzi-like weapon. Hugo couldn’t tell the exact make, as the guard was half-hidden behind the doorway, his sharp eyes watching the new arrivals with interest.
The gate guards allowed them to pass and then instructed the drivers of both vehicles to park on a gravel lot just behind and to the left of the wall. They were instructed to walk the rest of the way to the home, a quarter mile hike down a peninsula. The home was an impressive Victorian-style mansion. Three black Suburban SUVs were parked in the roundabout driveway in front of the mansion. A handful of armed Latino guards stood next to them.
The Pakistanis and Hugo were each searched and disarmed, which annoyed Hugo. But Syed nodded for him to comply. The guards actually had a tent set up in front of the mansion entrance. Under the tent was a folding table with numbered bins to hold weapons, phones, and electronic devices. One of the guards filled out a notepad to keep track of the owners and equipment.