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Ryland shook his head and chuckled. “True. But I think ball sweat is pretty close. Just on a smaller scale.”
“A much smaller scale,” Bruja commented with a grin.
Pharaoh drove them straight to the safe house where they would go over the mission and wait until dark. At that time, they would drive to Yusuf Bashar’s compound, infiltrate it and neutralize the arms dealer.
At least, that’s what should have happened.
The minute they walked into the stifling-hot safe house, Pharaoh received an incoming call from Merlin. Ryland flipped the air conditioning on and the team waited while their leader conversed with their handler. If the out of the ordinary communication wasn’t enough of a harbinger of the chaos to come, the dark look that came over Pharaoh’s face certainly was.
After hanging up, their leader turned to his team and said, “Change of plans.”
They all exchanged uneasy glances. A minor change, they could deal with. They’d all had to pivot during a mission at one time or another, but if it was anything major, that wasn’t good news. Too much planning went into these missions, and precision was a key factor of their success. He gritted his teeth and listened as Pharaoh shared the new details.
“Bashar isn’t at his compound. He’s at his apartment in the city.” Everyone waited for him to continue. “Seven floors from the top of Etihad Towers.”
“Fuck me,” Saint hissed. “And we’re just supposed to waltz right in and shoot this bastard between the eyes? How?”
“Let’s call Banshee and come up with a new plan.” Pharaoh glanced down at his large G-Shock. “And we better have one in five hours.”
“What’s in five hours? Hell, it won’t even be dark by then,” Ryland said.
“That’s when Bashar is scheduled to leave and catch a flight to South America.”
Fucking hell.Ryland pinched his brow and exchanged a look with Tanner. Saint kicked a nearby chair which Bruja deftly snagged, spinning it around and sitting down at the table, while Pharoah opened his laptop and dropped into a chair beside her.
“Banshee,” Pharaoh said after the video call connected, “we need all the intel you can pull up on Etihad Towers. That’s our new target site to neutralize Bashar.”
“Etihad Towers?” Banshee echoed. “On it.”
Ryland, Tanner and Saint joined Pharaoh and Bruja in seats around the table, waiting while Banshee collected the information. They would get their hands on the building’s schematics easily enough, but Ryland hoped Banshee would have enough time to hack into Bashar’s system and get them the passwords and codes necessary to unlock doors. Otherwise, this op could go FUBAR fast. And Ryland was starting to have a bad feeling twist his gut.
“There are three residential towers,” Banshee said, fingers flying across a couple different keyboards. “Our man Bashar’s apartment—and I use the term lightly—is located on floors 129-133. FYI, it’s over 29, 000 square feet of pure luxury and Abu Dhabi elegance and perched 1500 feet above the city.”
“Christ,” Pharaoh mumbled and swiped a hand through his dark hair.
Ryland didn’t like seeing their team leader ruffled. The dude never looked bothered by anything, so when he was, Ryland took note, concern edging in fast.
“That’s a lot of square footage to cover,” Bruja stated, a frown marring her forehead. “How many floors total again?”
“One-hundred forty,” Banshee replied.
“There are only five of us here,” Tanner said. “What the hell? That place is probably swarming with security. In the lobby alone!”
“So, we avoid the lobby,” Saint said easily, leaning back and lacing his fingers behind his head. “I might be able to get us in another way.”
“Explain,” Pharaoh demanded.
“Through a window.”
“A window?” Ryland repeated blankly. “On the 129th floor? We gonna sprout wings and fly up there?”
“What’s your plan?” Pharaoh crossed his muscled arms, exposing his dagger tattoo.
“We become window cleaners for the day.”
For a moment, no one said anything.
“I think I’d rather go in guns blazing,” Tanner said.
