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Pace immediately transmitted. “I have a third bus approaching. Might be more soldiers.”
“Did we get ourselves spotted, or does the Estelle just require that much security?”
“Unknown,” Pace said. “Just stay low till we figure this shit out. You guys got civilian clothing on under that neoprene?”
Travers nodded, then said, “Good idea.” To his men he said, “Get out of the wet suits, we’ll stow them somewhere. We’ll be less obvious from a distance.”
“These HKs are going to stand out, boss,” Victor Three said.
“Not leaving our weps behind. Put them in your packs.”
“Roger that.”
The men began doffing their wet suits.
•••
Court and Zoya were on their third cafecito; the four streets spilling into the traffic circle where they sat had filled with cars, buses, and pedestrians. They kept their eyes moving, with Court looking to the western approaches, and Zoya concentrating on the Malecón, the larger harborside street that ran north to south.
Just as a police car passed by, Jim Pace came over their net. “Violator, Juliet Victor is hunkered down in the container yard; there’s nearly a hundred soldiers fanning out, looks like they got spotted on a camera somehow. Doesn’t appear the soldiers know where they are at this time, but it’s getting pretty hairy over there.”
“Understood. You want us to move to your poz?”
“Negative. I’m fine, just hold what you have and keep an eye out.”
•••
While Anton Hinton sat at his desk and spoke on a call with a reporter in London, Zack Hightower leaned out of Hinton’s office and motioned to one of his security men standing in the lobby. “Luis…can you come in here so I can go to the head?”
Luis spoke English, but not Navy English. “The what?”
“El baño,” Zack clarified.
“Sí, sí!” Luis passed Zack in the doorway and went over to stand by the body armor on the sofa while Anton sat at his desk, his feet up, looking out the window while he talked to the reporter about the attack on him here in Havana the day before yesterday, and gave his thoughts about the impact on the world after the deaths of his friends and colleagues in the past week.
Zack headed down the hall towards the bathroom, waved at Wren as he passed his office, and nodded at Kimmie as she moved quickly down the hall towards him.
She didn’t look back at him. As she passed he noticed a look of consternation on her face, but she was moving too fast for him to stop and ask if something was wrong.
He stood there at the door to the bathroom, watched her while she stormed down towards the end of the floor and then turned right, into Gareth Wren’s office.
Zack shrugged a little. If there was any sort of security issue, she wouldn’t have passed him by without telling him, he told himself, so he figured it had something to do with the company, and not the assassins hunting down the owner of the company.
He pushed the door open and went in to take a leak.
A minute later, as he returned to Hinton’s office, he noticed Wren’s door was shut. He thought about rapping on it to make sure everything was okay but decided against it. He’d see Wren at lunch in a few hours, and he’d ask him about it then.
•••
Carlos Contreras focused on his monitor, still watching his target, just sitting there. The Mexican was fascinated by the fact that this man didn’t know he was about to die.
It was a powerful emotion, and though Contreras was used to it—he’d targeted a lot of people for the cartel over the years—it still made his skin tingle with excitement.
After a beep in his ear, he heard Lancer’s voice.
“I’m about three minutes out. Give me an update.”
“The target hasn’t moved.”
