Liberation Day (29 page)

What now? What was I going to do if I was locked outside while they got directions from the receptionist?

Romeo Two bent down and I watched him say a few words into a speaker by the buzzers—maybe a confirmation statement. Whatever it was, he was a happy man as he stood upright and gave Romeo One, who didn’t look too certain about things, a reassuring nod.

They waited, not going into the Roman entrance just to their left, and then I realized why. I needn’t have worried. There were cameras behind the receptionist’s desk, and she would know what office they’d gone into. So they waited, admiring the Persian rugs in the store opposite, perhaps wondering, like I had, why people would pay so much just for something to stand on. Their moms could probably knock one off in a couple of weeks.

Lotfi came back on the air; the chainsaw fired up behind him, before turning into a high-pitched whine as it bit into a tree. “N, radio check.” He sounded anxious, not knowing what was going on inside and needing some reassurance.

I double-clicked him as the reception doors opened and out came a tall, dark-skinned man with black hair, graying at the temples in a way that made him look quite distinguished. He was about six foot and slim, not Arab, maybe Turkish, maybe Afghan. They didn’t shake hands. He wore an expensive-looking navy suit, black loafers, and a dazzling white shirt, buttoned all the way up, no tie. Maybe, like many people, he refused to wear one because it was a symbol of the West. Or maybe he was a fashion victim. I’d get the boys on the warship to ask him later.

They finished exchanging half a dozen very serious-looking words and all three started to walk back out of the door of the mall they’d come in through. I warned Lotfi.
Click, click. Click, click
.

Lotfi was straight back. “Coming out?”

Click, click.

“Same doors?”

Click, click.

They disappeared from sight and, no more than three seconds later, the net burst into life once more. “L has Romeos One, Two, and Three. They’ve gone right, your right as you exit. Toward the rear of the building.”

I got up from the table and double-clicked him as I wiped the mug, keeping the napkin with me. As Lotfi carried on the commentary with the chainsaw in the background, I shoved the napkin into my jacket pocket, where it joined the muffin wrapper and plastic coffee cup. “That’s Romeos One, Two, and now Three, foxtrot on the right, still on the right-hand side. About halfway toward the rear. They’re not talking. Romeo One is still aware, they have quick feet.”

I pushed my way through the glass doors into the cacophony of traffic and chainsaw. I didn’t bother to look for Lotfi. I knew he was there somewhere.

“Do you want me to stay here?”

I double-clicked him as I turned right, and followed on the same side of the road, putting my shades back on.

34

T
hey were now about two-thirds of the way down the narrow road leading to the service area at the rear of the building, still not talking, but at least Romeo One wasn’t looking around anymore. He still had the bag over his shoulder and hung back slightly because there wasn’t enough room for three abreast on the sidewalk. They’d chosen a good route, avoiding cameras; the only bits of people control were the two-foot-high steel barriers stopping people parking on the curb. By Monaco standards, it was all quite relaxed.

They turned right at the corner and disappeared from view. I quickened my pace to get eyes on in case they disappeared completely through a door. I hit the pressle. “That’s all three Romeos right, to the rear, temporary unsighted.”

I got two clicks from Lotfi; I didn’t know if he could see and it didn’t really matter, so long as he knew what was going on. There was also a possibility that Hubba-Hubba could receive but not send as he made his way to us.

Reaching the corner, I crossed the road and began to hear what sounded like a supermarket cart roundup. Steel containers on wheels were being shunted backward and forward from a truck backed into the post office loading bay. Once I was on the far sidewalk I turned right, just in time to see the three of them passing through a steel door next to a garage shutter alongside the loading bay.

My mind raced as the door closed. It must be the exchange—unless this was a parking lot and they were about to leave. “L…Hello, L.” It was hard to keep my happy smiley face as I chatted on my hands-free. “Are you near your car?”

“Yes, in the parking lot, in the parking lot.”

“Okay, mate, go complete…and static outside the parking lot. All three Romeos are unsighted in a garage, I have the trigger. You’ve got to be quick in case they go mobile. Remember your third party.”

I got two clicks as I passed the post office van and the mail-cart pushers, then an anxious voice. “Hello, N, hello, L? Radio check, radio check.”

At last, Hubba-Hubba.

I hit the pressle. “This is N. L’s here too. Where are you?”

“Near the casino, I’m near the casino, I’m nearly there.”

“Roger that. That’s Romeo One, Two, and now Three unsighted at the back of the building in the last shuttered garage before you get to the post office loading bay. I have the trigger, acknowledge.”

Click, click.

“Okay, stay complete and cover the square, able to take in all directions. L is going complete now. I’ll trigger them away if they go mobile.”

Click, click.

“L, where are you?”

No reply: he was probably down in the parking lot.

“That’s H static on the square. Can take in all directions. N, acknowledge.”

Click, click.

Seconds later Lotfi came back on the net, and I could hear the Focus engine closing down in the background. “Hello, N, hello, N. That’s L static on the parking lot road, covering away from the square.”

“Roger that, L. Stay where you are. H is here, and is covering the square and can take in all directions. N still has the trigger, no change. L, acknowledge.”

Click, click.

By now I was at the mall entrance near the dry-cleaner’s and there was a loud hiss of steam from a pressing machine. “L, I want you to describe Romeo Three to H. Acknowledge.”

Click, click.

There was nothing else I could do now but keep the trigger on the shutter and listen while Lotfi told Hubba-Hubba what our new best friend looked like.

I watched the letters and packages being taken backward and forward in the carts. Keeping the trigger was so important that I’d have to risk exposing myself out here in full view of the postal workers, and so close to the women in the cleaner’s, but thankfully out of sight of the camera on the corner of the building.

I leaned against the wall and checked traser. I wasn’t interested in the time, just in making it look as if I had a reason to be there. There was another loud hiss of steam from the pressing shop, and then a small group of people came out of the exit. I had to brass it out. Security was definitely getting sacrificed for efficiency.

A couple of minutes later there was movement.

“Stand by, stand by, Romeo One and Two foxtrot. Wait…that’s Romeo One and Two both carrying bags. Wait…” I started to smile, as though I was listening to a good story on the cell phone. “That’s both Romeos now foxtrot right, toward me. Romeo Three still unsighted. He must still be inside. I have to move. Wait out.”

I turned and walked into the mall with the big smile still fixed on my face. “That’s Romeo One and Two unsighted, stay where you are. Both stay where you are. L, acknowledge.”

Click, click.

“H, can you get a trigger on the mall entrance?”

“H already has the trigger and can see the road from the rear of the building.”

Click, click.

Both exit points from the shutter, plus both entry points back into the mall, were covered if Romeo Three moved on foot. But it was what we’d do if he went mobile that worried me.

As I bent down I took particular interest in the china shop window across from the dry-cleaner’s. Painted plates and silver cutlery gleamed under the brilliant display lights and I waited to see what the two Romeos were doing. It was just a few seconds before I caught a side view of both of them quickly passing the mall’s glass doors, going on to the junction below the camera. They had two bags now, each with a tennis racket in the side pocket. The second bag must have been inside the first to give it bulk, and now it just looked like they were two pals on their way to a friendly game.

I got back on the road, hoping that the Romeos weren’t waiting at the intersection. Tough shit if they were: I was committed now and had to get a trigger on the shutter in case Romeo Three went mobile. I needed to get a vehicle ID and direction for Lotfi and Hubba-Hubba, who would then be on their own.

I’d gotten myself out onto the other side of the mall door, looking right quickly by the camera intersection—no Romeos—then left toward the shutters, as my earpiece burst into life. “Stand by, stand by! H has a possible Romeo Three foxtrot toward the square, that’s halfway…”

He double-clicked as I shot back in through the door, past the cleaner’s and china shop, toward the café with a third-party smile. “H—stop him. He mustn’t get back to the office. Stop him!”

I got a double-click just as I followed the mall hallway right, passed the café, and headed for the other exit. If Hubba-Hubba didn’t stop him, I would have to in the hallway. As I passed the marble entrance and carpet shop, my left hand started to unzip the jacket so I had an easier draw down on the Browning. I had a hot, tingling feeling, and was sweating again. If we didn’t act fast we could lose him upstairs, maybe forever. I wanted him lifted and dropped off as quickly as possible. We couldn’t afford to wait around here: security was tighter than a duck’s ass.

Barging my shoulder against the mall door, I shot back out onto the road facing the square and the chainsaw crew. Hubba-Hubba stood on the pavement to my immediate right, with an enormous smile all over his face, just about to shake the hand of his long-lost friend, Romeo Three. There was a burst of French between them before the Arabic started.
“As-salaam alaykum.”

Romeo Three looked perplexed, but went through the motions and raised a hand to Hubba-Hubba’s.
“Wa alaykum as-salaam.”

Passersby took no notice as the old friends met on the street, and Hubba-Hubba initiated a bit of cheek-kissing. As I approached, the
hawallada
’s eyes darted nervously between the two of us. Hubba-Hubba greeted me in Arabic, all smiles, and put a very firm arm out to bring me into the group and let me know he was running this part. The
hawallada
’s hand was large but his shake was weak and soft. Hubba-Hubba continued babbling and gesturing toward me, accompanied by nods and smiles. Romeo Three didn’t look so happy, though.
“Allah-salaam alaykum.”
I reciprocated.
“Wa alaykum as-salaam.”
But I left the kissing business to Hubba-Hubba.

As I broke off the handshake, Hubba-Hubba embraced us both, and steered us back toward the rear of the mall, still jabbering away in Arabic and talking about the old days.

Romeo Three’s eyes betrayed a mixture of fear, puzzlement, and pleading. He was stressing big-time, but he was too scared to do anything about it, not that he had the opportunity. Hubba-Hubba kept both of us tightly in his arms as he continued to babble, smiling and nodding like a game show host. I smiled back and nodded at the
hawallada
. Whatever was being said was obviously doing the trick, for Romeo Three turned the corner without protest, just resignation. We stepped aside as the mail truck thundered past.

We stopped next to the shutter, and Romeo Three fumbled through his bunch of keys. With Hubba-Hubba’s help and support, he finally inserted the right one into the cylinder lock and opened the metal door. Acting the gentleman, Hubba-Hubba ushered him inside and followed a step behind.

I entered the cool darkness last. There was hard concrete beneath my feet, and a strong smell of paint. Romeo Three started begging. The only word I could make out sounded like “Audi.” I pushed the door closed and hit the light switch on the left-hand side of the steel frame with my elbow. I could now see what the
hawallada
was babbling about. A French-plated metallic silver Audi A4 was parked and filled most of the space in here.

Hubba-Hubba stepped alongside him just as he was turning toward us and slammed his right hand over Romeo Three’s mouth. The keys slipped out of his hands and fell to the ground with a jangle. Pulling his head back, and hooking his left arm around his neck, Hubba-Hubba went down with him onto the dusty concrete, grazing the skin on his face, their clothes covered with dust.

Muffled screams escaped from the jerking body as he kicked against the side of the car in his struggle to get out from under Hubba-Hubba. The Egyptian looked like he was trying to wrestle a crocodile, and responded by forcing Romeo Three’s head more firmly into the concrete to the sound of both of them snorting for oxygen.

I was already down on my knees, opening up my fanny pack and extracting the insulin pen as the
hawallada
fought nonstop to free himself, and Hubba-Hubba did everything to keep his face down and his ass up.

“That’s good, mate, keep him there, keep him there.” I dug my right knee into his left thigh. His cologne filled my nostrils and I saw a gold Rolex glint on his wrist. This boy had obviously never seen what a traser could do for you.

I clamped the plastic needle cover between my teeth, and put all my weight onto his thigh, so I could get to the injection site before spitting the cover away. I could feel his wallet in the back pocket of his pants as I used my free hand to push down on his ass, trying to keep it still.

As I fumbled with the pocket button to pull his wallet out, there was a hiss of air brakes and another truck started to back into the post office loading bay.

35

I
whispered urgently, “For fuck’s sake, keep him still!”