Brad Taylor - The Polaris Protocol

He tapped in his account information, then watched as Pelón pulled out a digital device, read a number, and tapped that into the computer. When it was done, Booth said, “How much?”

Looking at the Ghost, Pelón said, “How much does he have?”

“Close to two million dollars.”

“Then that’s what it will cost.”

The Ghost said, “Wait, I was told one million.”

“The price has changed. Unless you don’t want it. I’m sure it’s worth much, much more than that to others.”

Farooq tugged his sleeve. “It is worth much more. Pay it now and I will talk to my people about reimbursement.”

You mean after I’m dead? The Ghost decided he would enjoy killing this ingrate liar but knew his escape hinged on turning off the GPS. Money was something he could always get. He still had the real Gamal’s credit cards for a head start.

“Okay. So be it.”

Booth completed the transaction and opened his own laptop, going through a biometric authentication, turning off his security traps, and establishing a connection with his two GPSs and the cellular Wi-Fi. When it was complete, he began showing the Ghost the various dials and switches on the screen, describing each one. He turned the final dial, detailing how it affected the timing signal, making it the heart of what would generate the false locational data. His words took a moment but finally sank into the Ghost’s brain.

“Wait, wait. I thought this device turned off the GPS signal. Isn’t that what I’m paying for?”

Booth said, “No, it renders GPS devices here on the earth inoperable by sending a false timing signal. In effect, it causes them to think they’re somewhere else.”

“You mean it tricks the receivers here? Instead of shutting them off?”

“Yes.”

The Ghost felt sweat pop onto his neck as his heart rate skyrocketed. The ankle cuffs are going to think they’re outside the boundary.

He said, “We don’t need to test it. If that’s it, let’s transfer the system to our computers. We’re taking too much time here.”

Farooq said, “No, no, it’ll only be for a few seconds more. Show him the car on your GPS.”

Out of options, the Ghost snaked his hand into his pants, found the panic button, and triggered it, pressing it over and over. He said, “Wait, before you do, explain to me again how it works.”

Booth started to say something, and Farooq cut him off. “Who cares about the science? It works. Watch.”

And he hit the enter key.

The Ghost saw the car disappear, then reappear in Canada. And felt both cuffs begin to vibrate. He felt a colossal urge to run, but he knew it would do no good. He had three minutes before both feet were amputated. Farooq said something that came out as white noise.

Farooq spoke again, then touched the Ghost’s sleeve. “Gamal, are you okay? Look, now the car is back where it is supposed to be. See? You can control how far it moves as well as how long.”

The Ghost felt the vibrations cease in both cuffs.

He took a deep breath and said, “So all the GPS receivers are working again?”

Booth said, “Yes.”

He jammed his hand back into his pants and hit the first button, the nonpanic one, in an attempt to stop the assault he knew was coming.

Farooq continued. “Show him how you can do it without Wi-Fi. Show him the delay.”

Booth said, “If I want, I can set up multiple strings of outages for as long as I’d like.” Using the laptop track pad, he turned another dial, saying, “For instance, I could shut off just the GPS receivers in Mexico for five minutes, then set the entire constellation to go out permanently in twelve hours. Now, if I were to hit enter, we’d get two outages of varying degrees and varying lengths of time.”

Farooq said, “That way, you can set it when you have Wi-Fi, but it won’t release until you’re away from Wi-Fi.”

The Ghost was pressing the nonpanic pager button again when Mr. Pink and a woman he didn’t recognize rounded the far side of the stone temple. He heard noise behind him and saw Mr. Black and an African-American closing from the opposite direction.

Pelón took one look at the woman and leapt to his feet, pulling a gun from inside his jacket. Farooq slammed the lid on Booth’s laptop with his hand still on the keyboard, drawing a howl. The GPS screen went blank.

And the Ghost felt the ankle cuffs vibrate again.

62

Sitting at a corner table inside the small museum cafeteria, Jennifer said, “I find it ridiculous that I’m out here while Knuckles and Blood get to roam around the museum. They don’t care one bit about what’s in this place.”

I said, “We’ll come back when this is over.”

She said, “I have a degree in anthropology. This is one of the largest anthropology museums in the world!”

I started to say something when my phone buzzed for the second time, meaning the meeting was over.

That was quick.

I looked at my screen and felt a jolt fire down my spine. Next to me, Jennifer said, “Pike, he just alerted.”

I said, “Let’s go,” just as my radio came alive, Knuckles and Blood confirming the worst. Something had gone horribly wrong, and my beautiful plan was turning to absolute shit.

With the five-man team I had—well, four men and a woman—I was hard-pressed to accomplish both primary tasks of capturing the American hacker and taking down the device he’d created. Whoever had picked the place of the meeting had done a pretty good job. The anthropology museum was wide open, with multiple halls and levels in addition to a plethora of outside exhibits. On top of that, it had a large security presence to prevent theft and damage. Enough to preclude any shenanigans from either side during the sale of the device.

I’d decided to wait until after the sale, allowing the men to split up and leave the museum, with the Ghost alerting us when the meeting was over, triggering surveillance. I’d left Decoy outside in an SUV, giving us some flexing options should we need to mount up, and tasked Knuckles and Blood with tracking the American. Jennifer and I would take the device and the Hezbollah crew, along with the Ghost.

I wasn’t comfortable allowing anyone else on him, feeling he was my sole responsibility, and was glad the assignments had already been decided by our previous actions. Whoever we had chased on the rooftops of Tepito would recognize Jennifer and me, but they hadn’t seen Knuckles or Blood, meaning they could conduct a proper follow. The downside was they couldn’t identify the targets like we could, as we had no photographs or anything else. I wasn’t too worried, though, because the guy who had the American was definitively strange looking and would be easy to spot. All they had to find was a devil dragging a Caucasian.

Allowing them to split up and leave was a risk, but I didn’t like the odds of successfully conducting an assault inside the museum, then escaping with an American in tow. Especially if we were going to leave some dead bodies behind. Too great a chance of compromise inside a treasure that Mexico valued highly.

And now I was being forced into it.

Speed-walking through the open courtyard, Jennifer took the first left she could find into the exhibit area, weaving through the displays but not moving fast enough to draw stares. I went through our options and began coordinating the assault, shifting mission focus from what I’d given previously.

“All elements, all elements, priority is the device. I say again, priority is the device.”

Knuckles said, “Coming in from the west. Copy you want to forget second target?”

Jennifer reached a large glass door and we were through, into the garden area full of old relics and temples. I said, “Roger. Good copy. If we can, we’ll take him, but the device has priority.”