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“Making me happier will help,” he says. “Now, you have a choice to make.”
“What’s that?”
“Which one of us drives?”
It’s about a twenty-minute drive north along a busy Jan Smuts Avenue. As Lin drives, Liam presses her again about the upcoming op, what she has planned, the fallback and alternatives if the plan goes wrong.
As they talk, Liam takes in the bustling side streets and sidewalks of Johannesburg, and knows that even if this op is successful, getting Benjamin Lucas out and learning the cure for the vice president’s condition—a long shot indeed—he will probably never be able to operate in Africa, ever again. The Chinese will make sure of that, passing along his information to every other intelligence agency on the continent.
Big deal,he thinks.
If it works, that will be all that matters.
He feels wide awake now, tingling in anticipation of what is ahead, realizing he’s on the knife edge of disaster. No matter the promises and reassurances the attractive young woman next to him has professed, she’s still an intelligence officer from a nation that hasn’t made secret its desire to turn the United States into a Second World nation.
Add in the fact that the local CIA station chief doesn’t know he’s here, and there’s no time to do a surveillance detection route, just to see who might be out there with eyes watching. This op might end up making the disastrous Bay of Pigs Invasion look like the successful D-Day of 1944.
Lin drives smoothly and expertly through the narrow streets off Jan Smuts Avenue, into residential areas, all of which have tall concrete walls and gated entrances. Lin slows down as they pass through a roundabout, and she says, “Killarney Street. That’s where Benjamin is being held.”
Liam says, “One street over from your consulate on Cleveland Road. How convenient.”
“You are distressingly well informed,” Lin says, slowing down in front of 24 Killarney Street, marked in bronze colored metal letters and numbers on the concrete wall. Underneath that is Burnham Associates, in the same letter style. Liam gets a quick view of a gate and beyond that, a one-story concrete building with small windows, painted a dull yellow.
Lin speeds up. “Anything else?”
“Yes, I wish I had a day to surveil the joint,” Liam says, turning in his seat for one last glance. One way in or out. Easy to block to prevent any escape. Hell, it looked like it could be blocked by a damn golf cart.
“There must be a utility or access tunnel connecting the consulate to your satellite building,” Liam says. “What happens when the action starts? Every armed person at your consulate will come at us.”
Lin pulls into a driveway where a building seems to be under renovation. But while there are piles of stone and pallets of lumber, no workers are visible. Lin drives to the rear where there’s an open green bin filled with broken plaster and chunks of lumber and parks the car.
“That’s taken care of,” Lin says. “When we start, the tunnel closes off automatically at each end. There should be minimal occupation and resistance in the building where Benjamin is being held. Anything else?”
Liam can think of another half dozen questions or so but he knows they don’t have the time.
“No,” he says. “Let’s do this.”
They both get out and Lin opens the car’s trunk—or is it called a boot over here?Liam randomly wonders—and he starts to get dressed from the gear Lin earlier placed in there.
As he puts on the gear, Lin sees him placing his borrowed 10mm Glock into a pocket.
Lin says, “I can’t let you bring that in there.”
Liam zippers the pocket shut. “Too late now. Lady, if I’m going into a trap, I’m not going in unarmed.”
“You still don’t trust me.”
“Yes, but at least I’m polite enough not to point it out all the time,” Liam says. “Let’s get this thing done.”
This time, he gets in the trunk for the short drive to the op.
CHAPTER 105
AT HER GEORGETOWN home, CIA Director Hannah Abrams sits in her kitchen, cup of coffee in hand. Her security officer Ralph says, “The DC police have come here twice, looking to talk to Noa. The next time they come, they’ll be coming with a search warrant.”
Hannah rubs at the side of her head. “I’ll make some calls, see if I can get them to hold off for a while. How’s everything else?”
“We have six additional security officers on the grounds, and I’ve got two other officers watching from vehicles parked on the streets,” he says. “Noa’s friend from the Agency, Gina Stasio, arrived about an hour ago. Do you expect any other visitors?”
