She didn’t follow behind him for long. Instead, she turned left on St. Asaph Street, so that if he was looking for a tail he wouldn’t see her at all. As soon as she was out of his line of sight she said, “Midas, I have the target. He’s about ten blocks from the river on King and heading west. I’ll move parallel to him and try to get ahead.”
“Roger that,” Midas said. “I’m five blocks away on King Street. You stay out of sight on an intersecting street, then fold in behind him, remaining on the opposite side of the street. You take the eye, and I’ll stay back and keep my eyes on you. I’m ready to overlap you and take the eye on your call.”
“Got it.” Adara walked quickly, thankful she wore tennis shoes, lightweight nylon pants, and a short-sleeve shirt because it looked like she was going to do a fair bit of power-walking this morning.
The Nissan Pathfinder from Detroit passed by Eddie Laird as he walked in front of a restaurant with sidewalk café seating; then the vehicle turned off King Street and onto Washington. Here it immediately pulled to the side of the road. The three young men of Middle Eastern heritage climbed out; Mehdi and Chakir had small backpacks slung over their shoulders, each carrying an Uzi and extra magazines, and Saleh had a Glock pistol and two extra magazines rammed into the small of his back between his underwear and his skin, covered by his untucked button-down shirt.
Saleh quickly crossed to the southern side of King Street to stay opposite Laird, while Chakir and Mehdi stayed back on Washington until the old white man passed. They waited another minute before taking up the follow behind him.
They both wanted to shoot him in the back now and be done with it, but Saleh was in charge of this group, and he’d told them he’d text or call when it was time to act.
32
Adara Sherman pulled a baseball cap out of her shoulder bag as she headed north on South Columbus, and it was a good thing, too, because her target passed just fifty feet in front of her. He glanced her way, but she had been purposefully walking along right next to a man about her age pushing a baby stroller with a five-year-old boy in tow, and she turned to the boy just as her target glanced at her.
“How old is your adorable sister?”
The boy looked up at the lady who had just spoken to him, then to his dad. “How old is Mary, Daddy?”
The father smiled at the good-looking woman in the ball cap. “Just turned six months.”
“She’s a doll.” Adara looked back to the boy. “I bet you take good care of her, don’t you?”
The little boy beamed and assured the nice lady that he did, and the dad made a moment’s more conversation.
The target had passed by on King Street by now, and Adara felt confident that the white-haired man with The Washington Post had dismissed the family of four from having any part in a surveillance detail.
Midas was still in Adara’s earpiece, and he’d heard every word. “Either you just did all that for OPSEC, or you are using this exercise as an excuse to pick up dudes with baggage.”
Adara fought a smile as she slipped off her ball cap and made a left on King Street, falling in behind her target. “Which seems more likely?”
Midas joked, “I guess I won’t tell Dominic… this time.”
“That’s good of you. I’m seventy-five feet behind him and on the south side of the street. He’s on the north. Moving slowly. I’ll soften up, give him some more room.”
Midas said, “I’ll stay on his side, two hundred feet back but ready to close quick if necessary.”
“Roger.”
Chakir and Mehdi walked shoulder to shoulder through a thick group of tourists standing on the corner, both keeping their eyes on their target, wondering where the hell the man was going. Seconds later he slipped into a coffee shop, and the two men from Detroit stopped walking, then stood at the corner, facing King Street like they were waiting to cross at the light.
The crossing signal turned green, however, and neither man moved.
Across the street and fifty feet ahead of the men, Adara Sherman stopped and began looking through the window of an upscale antiques store that had not yet opened for business. She wanted to check her immediate surroundings for anyone standing close by, using the reflections to do so, before reporting in to Midas that the target had stopped. But before she spoke, Midas’s voice came into her ear.
“Uh… Adara? I think Mr. C. might have thrown us a curveball.”
Adara found herself free of anyone who might overhear her conversation. “What’s going on?”
“Not one hundred percent sure, but I might have a couple dudes tailing you.”
The blonde fought the urge to look behind her. “Interesting. That wasn’t the drill today.”
Midas replied, “Clark told us to keep our heads on a swivel. Maybe he has more going on than he said in the brief. Unsub description to follow: Two males, light-olive complexion, early twenties. Both have backpacks. One has a brown T-shirt and a ball cap, the other a green-collared short-sleeve. They are about fifty feet back from you, but on the opposite side of the street from your poz. I’m too far back to be sure they are looking your way, but the second you stopped, they pulled up at the corner, and now they are just hanging out.”
A man stood next to Adara now, looking in the same antiques store, so Adara did not reply. Midas would know she’d received the message, and if these guys were only fifty feet behind her looking her way now, she didn’t want them to see her mouth moving.
Midas said, “Since this wasn’t part of the declared exercise, let’s just play this as real world. We don’t acknowledge them, but we try to lose them while still keeping eyes on the target. It’s going to be tricky. Clear your throat if you acknowledge.”
Adara did so, and she immediately turned left in front of the antiques store on South Fayette Street, breaking off coverage of Laird again, but also forcing the team tailing her to either break off from her or follow her down a quiet residential street.
She made a quick right onto Commerce and continued to the southwest, hoping to catch up with the target. Now that she knew the men on King wouldn’t be able to see her, she asked, “What’s my tail doing?”
Midas did not answer for a few seconds. Finally he said, “They let you go. Didn’t even look your way or give it a moment’s thought. They are still on King. You know… I could be wrong about them.”
“I’m sure you have a good nose about these kinds of things. If your gut tells you to keep an eye on them, don’t write them off just yet. Laird stopped into a coffee shop, I’ll get a block ahead and double back.”
Midas said, “These two guys are moving again. Still west on King.” A pause. “Can’t be sure, but I think I see the target leaving the coffee shop and heading west.”
Adara chuckled a little. “Wait, are they tailing me, or are they tailing our target?”
Midas said, “I thought it was you because of their movements mirroring yours, but if your movements were mirroring our target’s, who knows?”
Adara said, “But it doesn’t make sense that they would be following the same guy we are if they are with Clark.”
Midas asked, “Unless Clark is training another team, too.”
Adara didn’t believe that for a second. “Maybe they are waiting for me to show back up.”
Midas said, “Possible. I’ll stay behind them, and watch this closely.”
Midas followed the two men, trying to also keep sight of the white-haired target, well over one hundred yards ahead on the sidewalk. But this wasn’t all he was doing. He had tailed enough people in his life to know that it could feel like looking through a drinking straw if he wasn’t careful. Keeping eyes on one person in a crowd had a tendency to make the follower lose sight of the fact that he or she was also out in the open and subject to potential surveillance or other threats. For this reason he took his time now to, as nonchalantly as possible, scan the entire crowd in view on the street. In front of him, around him, behind him, even in windows of buildings above him.