Hidden Trump (Bite Back 2) (26 page)

“So can we?”

“Sure, team. You can all come,” I said. Unfortunate choice of words. Made them laugh, and get a whole lot ruder. I didn’t mind. Ten years of the army does that to you, and I gave as good as I got. It was stupid and it was fun. It made the trip back seem too short.

I left Jeep outside and we walked through the personnel gate. I waited there for Marlon. As they started moving away, I called after them.

“Hey, team—ass kicking—next Tuesday?”

“Deal.” They grinned and gave me the thumbs-up. “But promise, no bad jokes this time.”

“No way! Part of my offensive armory.” I chuckled. “Oh, one other thing, Tom. You speak Athanate?”

He nodded, strolled a little way back.

“What does this mean?” I gave him the words Diana had said as we parted, as best I could remember. It was probably good enough.

He scrunched his face up. Hmm. Maybe my recall wasn’t quite good enough.

“The first part I can’t tell. Something about binding. The last part is probably an Athanate saying. ‘Strong indeed is the wisdom of innocence.’ That helpful?”

“Like an ashtray on a motorcycle. Thanks, Tom, and the rest of you guys. Later.”

Marlon came out with a cast and crutches. Okay, no ass-kicking for him next Tuesday. Athanate heal quickly, but I guessed there were different rates for different injuries. My scrapes and bruises seemed to go in a day, but Marlon looked as if the leg was still giving him pain.

“Sorry about that,” I said, nodding at his leg and shaking his hand. “Are you okay to walk around the house?”

He shrugged and winced as we started off.

“Bian’s responsible for security generally,” he said, without preamble. “I’m in charge of Haven’s defenses. Skylur wants you to brief me on how you’d go about attacking.” He fiddled with a remote microphone on his lapel. “Bian’s listening in for the moment. She’ll join us when she can.”

“Hi, Pussycat,” I said to the lapel and then went straight into Ops 4-10 mode. “How I’d go about attacking depends on what my mission objective is and what parameters there are—collateral damage, alerting third parties and so on. I’ll give you a worst case scenario—no concern about collateral, minimal concern about third parties and no restriction on weaponry or casualties. The mission is, let’s say, to evacuate some of the Assembly and kill most of the rest.” I squinted at him and he nodded. Fair assumptions. I turned on my heel and pointed back at the gatehouse. “Start with those. Impressive little forts, and completely useless. I’d allocate two small teams, no more than six people with a couple of laser-guided anti-tank missiles. Less than a minute to set up. No survivors. Regardless of which way I was really attacking, I’d do it anyway as a diversion. Big, bright explosion, lots of people looking the wrong way.”

Marlon looked as if he was about to argue the point, but I know the weapons. If it can take out a T-90 tank, a brick building with a nice open slot in the front would be a joke.

“I say the wrong way because I would
not
use the front as the main route to attack.”

“Why not?” asked Marlon.

“Because it’s the obvious way. And you’ve probably got the drive mined.”

Marlon looked startled.
Bullseye.

I sketched a couple more diversions as we walked slowly down the side of the house. At the back, I pointed down into the valley below.

“That’s where I’d come up. Plenty of cover, even inside the grounds. Second most obvious way, of course, that’s why I’d have diversions at the front and sides.”

I looked at the stretch of gardens, the rise of the ground and thought it through. “Ten minutes, less than five percent casualties in the attacking force.”

“Ten minutes to what?” he said.

“Ten minutes from the first diversion until all the above-ground part of the house is in my hands.”

“But…”

“I’m telling you how long it’d take my old army unit to get in there against anyone who didn’t have the equivalent training and weapons. Guaranteed.”

We stared at each other for a minute. Marlon didn’t like it, but he granted me some knowledge on the matter. He’d been almost dismissive at first, but he was starting to get engaged by this.

“Well, what are they going to do then?” he came back with. “You say minimal concerns about third parties but you’ve had explosions and gunfire going on for ten minutes. Now you’re stuck—how are you going to get into the underground section? It’d take hours and by then there’d be police SWAT teams here.”

I laughed. “It’d take minutes, and everyone who’s leaving would be taken out by chopper. Half an hour, start to finish.”

“You can’t possibly fight your way down—”

“I’m not talking about much fighting, once the house is breached, Marlon. You’re thinking of defenses like house-to-house, slow work and high attrition. You’re stuck in that thinking. It doesn’t happen like that anymore in these types of situations.”

“So what do you do?”

“Blow freaking great holes through the roof of every level underground.” I saw Bian come out of the house and walk towards us. “You’ve heard of shaped charges? Bunker busters?”

“Yes, but—”

“The same choppers that are going to lift the evacuees and attack team out, fly the charges in. Those charges can blow holes through yards of armored steel, so your underground building structures aren’t going to hold them. And no one in the next level down is going to be in much of a state to fight when whole ceilings start to disintegrate above them.”

Bian joined us and tugged out the earphone she’d been using to listen in. “What about casualties in the Basilikos that you’re trying to evacuate?”

I shrugged. “It’s a risky business. Those that are in the know might gather at the north end of the room, and the attackers concentrate on attacking through the south end. Shaped charges don’t spread.”

“So how do you defend against this?” asked Marlon.

“Having the Warders do their job to start with.” I was just being flippant, but Marlon didn’t like it.

“The Warders have a complex job to remain neutral and keep the tensions from escalating. I have a high regard—”

His cell interrupted him.

“He’s the primary contact with the Warders,” whispered Bian while he was distracted. “Gets a bit defensive.”

He was looking pale and sweaty rather than argumentative when he turned back to us.

“I’ve got to handle this call in the office,” he said. “This has been…interesting, House Farrell. Thanks.”

He went off on his crutches back up to the house. Bian frowned at his retreating back.

“Okay?” I said.

“He’s not healing quickly,” she said. “He seems unsettled. He gets even more upset than normal by the comments that everyone’s making about the Warders.”

“It could be just the stress of the Assembly coming up.”

“Hmm.” She sat down on a bench and crossed her legs. “He backs a plan to make the government of the Athanate a fixed, unaligned body based on the Warders. He has some good arguments, but it would never be strong enough. He doesn’t see that. He believes in the innate goodness of Athanate emerging if given the chance.” She made quote signs in the air.

I laughed, which was unkind.

“He’s a good man, Round-eye,” said Bian sharply.

I sat beside her on the bench. I wasn’t going to argue it. He was a bit dour, but he was okay. For all their joking, his team respected him and that was a strong argument for me.

She sighed. “Your attack analysis is pretty bleak. What’s your advice on defense?”

“Knowing what’s coming can help. I’m assuming the attackers will be well trained for this type of operation. Much better than you’ve been trained to defend. So, if you can’t defend the perimeter and the house, don’t try. Have people hiding out in the woods with the right equipment to take down any choppers that come in. And sufficient numbers to cut off the retreat of the lightly armed attackers. There’s no way the attackers will be able to carry enough shaped charges up that hill, so any attack that gets in the house is then in a trap. No way in, no way out.”

“You make it sound so straightforward.”

“The planning always is. But no plan—”

“Survives contact with the enemy. Yeah, I can quote Clausewitz too.”

I nodded. “Altau needs specialists to deal with this sort of thing. No offense, but you’ve kinda fallen asleep while the Assembly has kept the peace.”

“Agreed and agreed. I need to get back. Thank you, Amber.”

She walked off, distracted, and there was no teasing. Not even a kiss on the neck. Or was that teasing in itself? I really didn’t know with her.

Outside, I spun the Jeep around and headed back. Talking tactics had given me a renewed sense of the space in me that the army had once filled.

I didn’t have the comfort of my old army unit around me, and heading back for Denver, it felt like I was going into an operational hot zone. I wanted them at my back.

Despite that, as soon as the octopus got some connections, I called Alex.

“Hi, you good to talk?”

“Er… Not really as fully as I would like, under the circumstances.”

“You’re in someone’s office, aren’t you? And they can hear you.”

“Yes.”

I chuckled and told him what I would like to be doing to him at that very minute. In detail. I enjoyed it.

“Yes, I see. I look forward to that,” he said. His voice sounded a little strained.

“What time should I call you later?” I said sweetly. “I need to arrange where I get to meet the alpha.”

“Speak again at seven.”

“You got it.” I signed off, grinning.

Mary and Liu were next on my list. That wasn’t so much fun. At least I got through to Liu rather than Mary. I said I would be at the Kwan by 6 p.m.

I left a message for Jen. I would be back after 7 p.m.

That left me the remainder of this afternoon to check whether the old bowling alley was a Hoben hideout. It would just be a drive-by today. I had transferred some of my armory from the Audi, but I wasn’t set up for any frontal assault.

I was cutting it close, because I also had to go past José’s place in Lowry on the chance that he was still recovering from the gut wound he’d picked up on Monday. I needed to warn him that the FBI were onto Project Snakebite.

And just one last check on Monroe Street. Sorry, Ben-Haim.

José’s car was outside his house, and there was no one obviously watching his place. I cruised past a couple of times and went around the block. I knew I shouldn’t be cutting corners like this but I felt I was running just to stand still. I couldn’t afford the time to sneak over his fence at midnight.

There was a mall on Quebec Street, a couple of blocks away from his house. I picked up envelopes and paper and wrote some notes, then played mailwoman.

Luckily, it was José who came to the door.

I held up the note that said:
FBI tapping my phone—okay to talk?

“The Lord may be watching you, brother, even now,” I said. “Can I interest you in attending a meeting?”

He grinned and came out, pulling the door almost closed behind him.

I’d never seen him in anything but a suit. He was in shorts and a hoody, with sandals on his feet. Comfortable, just a regular guy at home. He was favoring his side where he was wounded, but he looked relaxed for the first time I could remember. I hated bringing him this kind of news.

“I did warn you about the feds,” he said quietly.

“Yeah, you did. Look, José, they’ve gotten hold of something. I got a message on my voicemail asking if I knew anything about a project called Snakebite.”

“Damn. Hold it right there.” He fished a cell from his pocket and dialed.

“Wally? José. The game’s off, obviously… Yeah. Maybe next time.”

He ended the call.

I raised my brows. “Wow! Just like that? All prearranged? So I’m not the only paranoid one around?”

“Yeah. That was Edmunds. Game’s off is code. Snakebite just disappeared.”

“Hope it’s not too late.” I sighed. “Good to see you up and about, José, but I’m going to be out of sight for a few days. I’ll call you when I get back.”

He grinned, lopsidedly. “Good to see you too. And I don’t want to know any details.”

“Thanks.” We shook.

“Take care,” he called after me.

Like that was ever an option.

It had been a warehouse at one time. Then a garage. Then a theme bar and finally a bowling alley. Lucky’s Lanes said the plastic signage, the loopy italic letters in faded red. Now it was derelict and boarded up, surrounded by heavy fencing and warning signs. A decaying monument to the spirit of misguided enterprise and poor naming choices.

Railroad tracks ran along the back, and a cement contractor owned the two adjacent sites. Tucker had bought the place as an investment, knowing one or the other of the new businesses sited around would want to buy eventually. They might, but too late for him.

Matt had hacked the power utility’s servers and found out the place was being used for something. The car auction depot was not. Exactly what was happening here was a question for me.

I was only scouting this time. I drove past, seeing the weeping of rust from nails making dark, sad trails down the boards, the flapping pieces of corrugated tin repairing holes in the roof, peeling signs, the whole air of dank desolation.

And the brand new lock and chain on the gate. Crushed weeds on the lot. Tire tracks in the dirt.

It was too light now, too many people around. I’d be back later.

The house on Monroe Street was cold and empty, and the afternoon seemed a whole lot bleaker all of a sudden.

Chapter 25

The Kwan was open for business, as it was every evening. Liu’s assistant was teaching a class. He nodded at me and tilted his head at the back office. I wanted to join in, but obviously this wasn’t the time. I bowed to the group and made my way around them.

Liu and Mary were sitting, waiting for me. There were mugs of plain green tea in front of them on the table, and a large pot. I sat opposite them and Liu handed me a mug, pouring me tea without a word. I wouldn’t have put it past them to be using the silence to try to unnerve me, but sergeants don’t get rattled that easily.