Brad Taylor - The Polaris Protocol

“Okay. Damn it, okay. We’ll find your brother.”

She smiled. “That wasn’t so hard, now, was it?” She kissed me, then moved to the bed.

I said, “What, now you want to stay?”

She propped a pillow under her head and lay down. “I always want to stay when Pike’s in the room. That asshole team leader is a different story.”

Christ. She drives me batshit.

She leaned to face me and smiled. “You going to sleep on the floor tonight?”

The comment meant more than the words alone. It was something she’d said a long time ago, in Bosnia, when we were both being hunted and she didn’t trust me as far as she could throw me. Whatever remote control she had was obviously tied to her mouth.

I thought about saying the exact same thing I had in Bosnia, then curling up with a pillow next to the bathroom. Well, for a nanosecond anyway. I’m not that stupid.

We’d gotten a hell of a lot less sleep than we should have and then had to wake up extra early to allow her to execute her little walk of shame back to her room before the team showed up. I felt like I was in high school, but she insisted. I guess it would have been a little awkward with her being the ”first” to arrive while wearing the same clothes she had on yesterday, her hair looking like she’d just awakened.

As it was, Knuckles was the first in, knocking on my door a mere two minutes after Jennifer had left. He took one look at me and shook his head.

What, is it painted on my face?

I said, “You’re getting here a little early, aren’t you? I was going to sleep in, glad I didn’t.”

He rolled his eyes, pushed past me, and said, “Shut up. I saw her get in the elevator.”

I said, “Who?”

Before he could answer, another Johnny Eager Beaver knocked on my door. I let in Decoy, and the conversation was dead. Thirty minutes later, everyone had arrived but Jennifer. When she entered, Knuckles caught her eye and gave a theatrical scowl. She winked at him, just to rub his face in it, I suppose.

Oh, man. His scowl turned real. I glared at her, then got the room’s attention. I brought them up to speed, telling them about the VPN last night and the potential for future operations, which, given the current state of affairs, wasn’t that great.

They broke for breakfast and I waited with dread for the morning VPN with Kurt. Honestly, I didn’t see how I was going to access the BMW data if Kurt told the team to stand down. I might be able to do it from DC, but Mexico was a different kettle of fish. The hacking cell activities were taken about as seriously as an actual hit, and getting them to work unauthorized would take some creative skill. Skill that might get me kicked out of the Taskforce for good.

The VPN initiated, and I found out how quickly things could change overnight, along with a reminder that I should watch the news while on operations. A horrific airline crash due to some GPS blip had caused the Oversight Council to switch into full-alert mode, and we were given carte blanche to find Jennifer’s brother. Kurt and I both agreed that it wasn’t going to do anything against whatever threat was out there, but it sure made me happy. I could have my cake and eat it too.

Six hours later, I was sitting with Jennifer outside the Santa Muerte cult of death church, and the blue marble marking the BMW was blinking steadily inside Tepito. The narco hadn’t gutted the system from his car, and the Taskforce penetration had worked. BMW Assist was giving us great assistance.

We’d downloaded the BMW app to our phones, plugged in the user name and password, and voilà—we were tracking the car. It was all I could do not to access the system, get the car on the line, and shock the hell out of whoever was in it by saying, “BMW, how can I assist you in selling cocaine?” That would have been good theater.

Instead, I’d sent in Knuckles and Blood for some dismounted reconnaissance, with Decoy on a leash as backup in a sedan. I picked the recce team with a purpose, given what we had to work with. Jennifer was usually perfect for this kind of thing, because nobody expected a woman, but in this case, with the homogeneous nature of the barrio, she’d stand out.

Knuckles had black hair that he always wore long, like a hippie. Blood was African-American, and while he wouldn’t exactly fade into the landscape, he had a better shot than Jennifer or me. With a two-day growth of beard and some ratty clothes, both looked like they belonged in Tepito. Which was fine for a recce, wandering around like they were looking to offload a shipment of bootleg CDs.

What we would do once we found the target was another story entirely.

44

Blood came on the radio. “This market is very tight. Not a good place for an assault. It’s packed with people.”

I looked at the map on my phone, getting a fix on both their positions in relation to the BMW’s blue marble. “Don’t start thinking assault just yet. Develop the situation. You still have a couple of blocks to go. Maybe it’ll thin out.”

Jennifer gave me a look, chomping at the bit. Off the radio, I said, “Calm down. You don’t want your brother killed in a cross fire by a bunch of Mexican banditos who are reacting to our actions. Let’s get eyes on. Might be better to wait for the BMW to move. Get it in a more favorable location.”

“But my brother may no longer be with it.”

“Have some patience. We don’t know anything yet.”

The radio came to life, with Blood giving me his opinion of my recce plan. “Who the hell thought I’d blend in here? I don’t think these people have ever seen a black man. Everybody I bump into looks like they want to kick my ass. And it’s really crowded, so I’m bumping into a lot.”

“That’s just the neighborhood. Don’t aggravate anyone. Maybe buy some fake Nike basketball shoes. Make ’em all happy.”

“I’m five-seven. I don’t play basketball, you stereotyping asshole.”

“Then buy a sombrero. Just don’t get anyone mad. Break-break. Knuckles, what’s your status?”

“About the same as Blood. Everyone eye-fucking me like they want to fight.”

“From what I’m seeing, you’re closest. Looks like the marble is about a hundred meters south, down an alley to the east.”

“Roger.”

“Decoy, what’s your location?”

“I’m staged on a north-south thoroughfare near the Tepito metro stop, but, Pike, I can’t do shit with the vehicle. There’s no way to get it through the market with any time to react.”

“Roger all. Just hold tight. They’ll be coming to you if things go bad.”

As soon as I said it, things began to go bad.

“Pike, this is Knuckles. I tried to make the turn into the alley and I’ve been stopped. Three guys jabbering in Spanish at me. I can see the nose of the BMW inside a roll-up door about seventy meters away.”

“Okay, back off. Let it go. Blood’s going to try from the other end.”

I heard shouting in the background, then, “Crowd’s gathering. I’m about to be sacrificed to Santa Muerte. I don’t think they like me shopping here.”

“Can you get to Decoy at the metro?”

“No. It’s through them.”

“Overtly hostile?”

“Naw. Not yet. Just apparently want to pick on a gringo.”

“Roger all. Forget the car. Exfil the way you came in. Decoy, you copy? Circle around to the north of the market and go dismounted. Help him break contact. Throw money around if you have to.”

Blood came on. “Pike, I’m at the corner on the other side. I can see a group of men inside the roll-up door with the car. Believe it or not, most look Asian, but there’s one guy who looks like Satan with a bald head, and two are definitely Caucasians.”

Jennifer exclaimed, “Jack! That’s Jack. Come on!”