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At 1300 hours on Friday,I sat in the high-tech command van two blocks from the deli, watching the action from a distance, as always. Each of the team members plus Evan were equipped with button cameras and in-ear comms devices. Kessler had a parabolic mic in her small purse, which would pick up the conversation at the table where we expected O’Dell’s contact to sit. From the van, Alder, Jensen, TJ, and I could see and hear it all.
Kessler and Li were having a conversation about the Wilder family reunion in Hawaii in a few months, which they would be attending with Derek and Chase. Penn and Sparks were bantering about being on their first “date,”, and Evan was tapping away on his private phone, probably texting with his sister or Bennett or one of his friends on the Sentinel team.
With my own small screen in a back corner of the van, I monitored the team members’ vitals, which were fed to me through the wrist watches they all wore on missions. The information only became imperative if something went wrong. In downtown Chicago in broad daylight with a person of interest who, from the video footage the team had reviewed, did not appear to carry weapons, the odds of grievous injury during this operation were low, but I always tuned out when Alder gave her medical predictions. They were helpful for team awareness and morale, but useless to me. My most important function, like all HEAT field doctors, was to be prepared for the worst-case medical scenario every time.
“Incoming,” Jensen said.
On the screens, each of the five operatives shifted ever so slightly, moving into high alert without missing a beat in their conversations. Evan put his cell phone to his ear and smiled. My heart flipped over itself without my permission.
“I have a full-face visual,” he said, pretending to be on a phone call. “I’d estimate mid- to late-forties. Glasses. Clean-shaven. Dark brown hair, gray at the temples. Possibly bald or with a receding hairline, hard to tell with the cap. Height just under six feet. Weight maybe 175, thin, muscle tone difficult to discern under his jacket. Undetermined eye color, no distinguishing features.”
Jensen glanced at me and grinned. “You can take the boy out of the cop uniform...”
“I was a detective,” Evan answered. “Rarely wore a uniform.”
“That’s a shame,” Penn said, working the response into his conversation with Sparks.
Kessler and Li added admiring comments of their own, and Evan’s smile widened.
“Don’t make me blush,” Evan said.
“Seriously,” TJ said. “That could draw more attention to him.”
“Not more than those dimples,” Alder said.
My whole damn team was flirting with him. Except me, of course. I rarely spoke on the comms during a mission unless there was a medical need.
TJ clicked off his comms and leaned toward me. “What’s up? You look worried.”
“Nothing.” I forced a smile. “Just trying to do my job.”
TJ frowned. “We’ll talk later.”
We resumed our waiting game while Kessler and Li received their lunch orders, Sparks and Penn ruminated over their menus, and Evan had a coffee refill. Ten minutes later, our guy in the baseball cap was watching the door and turning the waitress away. O’Dell wasn’t going to show, no one was coming to take his place, and if he recognized Evan from the events of the past weekend, Kessler hadn’t been able to detect it on his face or in his body language.
“He’s going to bolt in the next couple of minutes,” Kessler predicted.
“Prescott, maybe you should approach him, ask him for directions somewhere,” TJ said.
“I’ll do it if it’s an order,” Evan answered, “but my gut tells me that’s the wrong approach.”
I glanced at TJ, hoping Evan questioning him wouldn’t start the next alpha dog fight.
“You’re on the ground,” TJ said. “I’m inclined to go with your instincts. Tactical, logistics, your take?”
“I agree with the new guy,” Kessler said. “I think we should sit tight until our suspect leaves, at which time I’ll remember I have to feed the parking meter and follow him.”
“The rest of us defer to Kessler,” Sparks answered.
“No,” I pulled off my headset and held out my hand to Jensen. “Hand me an in-ear comms unit.”
He did so, then asked, “Something wrong with your headpiece? I’ll check it when we get back to HQ.”
“Not necessary,” I said. I fitted the tiny comms unit into my ear and strapped on my own watch, which synched up with it. “Headset’s fine.”
I slipped past the other three van occupants and into the driver’s seat.
“Bond, what are you doing?” TJ asked.
