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Garcia nodded at her to agree to it.
“Well, on a Saturday morning, I’d say it’s less public than I’d like. If memory serves me correctly, very few professors are on campus on a Saturday.”
“I counted four other professors in this wing, plus a few of the cleaning staff.”
“Fine. What time?”
“Leave your hotel now.” He hung up again.
Her determined stare swept between Garcia and BT.
“You’ve got this,” BT said.
“Selling a cover takes not only knowing the cover identity and all the intel related to it backwards and forwards, but you also have to become that person, channel that person at all times. You’re no longer Laura Lee Saxton. You’re a member of Donovan Lewis’ team. Sell that to West,” Garcia said.
Laura Lee nodded.
“Let that anger you felt last night when he threatened to kill your family drive you,” BT said.
“One last thing,” Garcia said. “Same codeword of lightbulb from last night, but if you get into trouble and feel threatened, use it while drawing your knife and pressing it against the neck of whoever is closest to you. We’ll be less than thirty seconds from you at all times.”
They wired her up with a tiny camera hidden in a button affixed to her jean jacket. She inserted her comms, which would be listened to in Ops, and all that was said in the room would be recorded. Miraldi and Smith were in Ops this morning. They’d be monitoring the situation the entire time.
She drove one of the vehicles, Garcia and BT following in another. While en route, she heard the briefing to the team on site through her comms.
“West is still alone in his office. I’ll notify you when this supposed colleague arrives,” Taco reported.
“Liu is still at home,” Powder advised.
“This Ma dude is at the school’s gym. He’s buff, I’ll give him that. The fucker can bench press as much as I can,” Moe transmitted.
“Then if it gets physical, he’s yours,” Garcia said.
“Nah, I’ll just shoot the asshole if I have the choice. No need for a fistfight,” Moe said.
Laura Lee couldn’t help but chuckle at the banter.
“Okay, Target has a visitor,” Taco stated. “I took a pic, transmitting it to everyone now. Ops, get the Digital Team on it ASAP. Male, black, at least fifty years old. Doesn’t look like a professor. Doesn’t look like your run-of-the-mill scumbag either.”
“Share that pic with Big Bear, Ops,” Garcia ordered.
“I’m on line,” Shepherd said. “I’ll also share it with Whiting.”
“Liu is on the move,” Powder transmitted. “I’m following.”
“Where is buff-boy?” Garcia asked.
“Still in the gym,” Moe reported. “He doesn’t appear to be in a hurry to finish his workout.”
“Moe, leave Bubbles on him. I want you to move towards our target’s office building,” Shepherd ordered.
“Roger that, Big Bear.”
As Laura Lee got closer to campus, her heart rate increased, and her chest constricted tighter. She repeated the coaching Garcia and BT had given her over and over. If she had to kill West to keep her family safe, she would. She could sell this persona, this cover. She recalled the dark place she’d been in after the attack and when she first reported to OCS Fort Benning. That was who she would be again while in this meeting.
“Okay, pulling into the parking lot near the Criminal Justice Building,” she transmitted. “That’s laughable. A criminal in the justice business.”
“Get in character and stay in it, Snake Eyes,” Garcia transmitted.
