“Stick to the computers for now. I want to see what kind of a reaction we get from their people when they show up and we ask for the combination. We’ll be up when they get here.”
Parks smiled humorlessly. “If there’s a connection to Croft or Lee, we’ll find it.” He turned and took the elevator back up.
“I’ll wait down here, if you want to go up,” Hailey said.
“Won’t be necessary,” Rudolph replied, spotting two men at the front doors. “Looks like the opposition is about to storm the gates.”
He and Hailey went over and let them in. The older of the men was dressed in a tuxedo, the other in a pair of blue jeans and a short-sleeved Izod. Neither of them looked happy.
Rudolph showed them his FBI identification. “I assume that you gentlemen work for the Far East Trade Association?”
“That’s right,” the man in the tuxedo said indignantly. “I’m Calvin Wirtz, the association’s legal counsel. What’s going on here?”
“Who are you, sir?” Rudolph asked the other man.
“He’s Christopher Antus, the association’s office manager,” the attorney spoke for him.
“Will your executive director, Sandy Patterson, be showing up tonight?”
“She’s unavailable.”
“Where is she?” Rudolph asked.
“Out of the city, but I couldn’t tell you where,” Wirtz said.
“Now that I’ve answered your questions, tell me what you’re doing here.”
Rudolph handed him the search warrant. “The association’s records will be subpoenaed in the morning, for now we’re conducting a search of the offices.”
Antus looked guiltily toward the elevators. “No,” he said, starting forward, but Wirtz put out a hand to stop him.
“They’re within their rights, Chris,” the attorney said. He glared at Rudolph. “But all they can do tonight is look. We’ll just see about the subpoena in the morning.”
“There’s a safe in one of the offices. Would either of you gentlemen know the combination?” Rudolph asked.
“No,” Antus said, and Rudolph was sure he was lying.
“That’s okay, we’ll get it open,” Hailey said. It was obvious he’d taken an instant dislike to both men.
“You’ll be liable for damages,” Wirtz warned. “But if you’ll tell me what you’re looking for, we might be able to speed this up tonight. I’m sure we can work something out with Sam Blair, something to everybody’s satisfaction.”
Rudolph smiled inwardly, though he let nothing show in his expression. Blair’s name wasn’t mentioned on the search warrant.
“We’ll just have to look around upstairs. You’re certainly welcome to observe.”
“Damn right we will,” the attorney said.
Antus stepped back. “These guys are probably going to be here all night,” he told Wirtz. “I think I’ll go home and leave it to you.”
“I think not,” Rudolph said sternly. “Jack, do you want to read Mr. Antus his rights?”
“What’s this?” Wirtz exploded.
“A criminal investigation, counselor,” Hailey said. “You don’t think we’d stay up all night for anything else, do you?”
They’d spread the topographic maps and aerial photographs of the Cropley safe house on a conference table on the main floor of the warehouse. Kondo, Kajiyama and their six commandos were gathered around the table shortly before midnight. It was to be their final briefing before the operation.
“I count at least eight warm bodies hidden in the trees,” Kondo said. He marked their exact locations on the map. “But there are probably more men on the grounds as well as in the house.”
“They’re taking security seriously,” Kajiyama said dryly.
Kondo nodded in agreement. “But that’s their biggest weakness.” He drew sight lines from each man the special film had registered hidden in the woods — all of the lines converged on the driveway in front and toward a foot path at the rear of the property. “They’re watching for an attack from the ground. Not the air.”
Kajiyama stabbed a delicate finger at the driveway. “The road is probably targeted. Video cameras perhaps. Tire shredders, maybe explosives.”
“That makes sense,” Kondo said. “The same for the path.” He drew red arrows on two narrow openings on the east side of the property and one on the west, the woods between the clearings and the house.
“If there’s any wind above eight or ten knots, making such a precise landing would be risky,” one of the commandos pointed out. “If we miss and come in on top of them, our element of surprise will be gone.”
“The weather forecast is for calm to light winds from the southeast,” Kondo said. “If the forecast is wrong, we’ll delay the drop.”
The others around the table nodded. Kondo had handpicked them all. Their courage was unquestionable, but like most professionals in the business, they were cautious, not foolhardy. They were willing to take risks, but not unnecessary chances.
“For the moment we can assume that they have double the men I was able to photograph,” Kondo continued. “Three-quarters of their force outside, the remainder in the house. After the drop, the most critical phase will be taking down the outside guards in absolute silence, and quickly. They’ll have radios, of course, but we can count on a ten-second threshold of delay. After that point, if someone doesn’t answer their radio someone will be sent to investigate. That means we hit them all at once. One click on your comms unit means you’re in position to take out one guard. Two clicks and you can take out two. When everyone is in position, you’ll receive a tone in your headsets which means strike. One click and you’ve taken out your man, two and you’ve taken out the second. A tone and you’re in trouble.”
Kondo looked around the table at their faces to make certain each of them understood the orders.
“If anything goes wrong, you’ll receive the warble tone and we’ll rendezvous here.” Kondo circled the helicopter’s evacuation point a few meters from the highway. He looked up again, a stern expression in his eyes. “You will not carry out the wounded, nor will you leave anyone alive.”
It was a hard world, Kondo thought. They would carry no identification, nor would their dental records, fingerprints or descriptions be accessible by anyone from the West. The mission was of primary importance, the commandos expendable. They understood this, and there were no objections now.
“We will take the house in the second phase,” he continued. “Since no electrical or telephone lines show up on the photographs we can assume they are buried. We can also assume that once the people in the house realize they are under attack, they will call for help. I’m giving us a five-minute operational window. We’ll divide our team in two units, one for the front, the other for the back. Blow the doors, kill the guards inside and kill McGarvey, if he’s there. If not we take his wife and daughter and rendezvous here.” He circled the helicopter’s primary pickup point on the parking area directly in front of the house.
“Mr. Kondo,” Sandy Patterson called from the corridor to the offices upstairs.
He turned around. She looked as if she had seen a ghost.
“Could you come upstairs?” she asked.
Kondo nodded tightly and turned back to Kajiyama. “Finish the briefing,” he said, and he went upstairs to where the woman had gone back into the office.
She stood at the desk, her cell phone lying by her open purse. She was visibly trembling, and her complexion was very pale.
“What has happened?” Kondo asked.
She looked up, as if seeing him for the first time. “My sister called. The FBI has raided my office.”
“When?” Kondo demanded.