Option to Kill (Nathan McBride 3) (23 page)

BOOK: Option to Kill (Nathan McBride 3)
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“I don’t want to be alone.”

“I know it’s hard, but try to relax.”

“If I go with you, we’ll look like a father and daughter again. My mom said you shouldn’t let me out of your sight.”

“Lauren, we had this discussion.”

She crossed her arms and didn’t respond. He knew this was tough on her, but he wanted to do foot reconnaissance alone.

“I need to put on my ballistic vest and wire the radio.”

He sensed an emotional withdrawal from her and hoped it wouldn’t become a major problem. Since he’d first rescued her from Voda, they’d been together constantly. This would be their first separation, and she’d just have to deal with it. Before donning the vest, he clipped the radio to his belt and connected the earpiece and transmit mike wires. He covered everything with a black sweatshirt and attached the small microphone to the collar. He turned their radios on and locked the channel settings so Lauren couldn’t inadvertently change frequencies.

“Are you okay?”

She looked straight ahead.

“Lauren, I need you focused and alert. Stop thinking whatever you’re thinking. We’re a team and I need your help. I’ll tell you about one of my missions. I promise.”

“You’re just saying that.”

“Have I lied to you tonight?”

“I guess not.”

“I need you to watch my back while I’m out there. Let’s do a radio check.”

He reached down to his hip and pressed the transmit button. “Test.” He heard his voice through Lauren’s radio. “Okay, give me a
test
back.”

She brought the radio up. “
Test.

He adjusted the volume. “One more, please.”


Test.

“You’re five by five. Loud and clear. Take turns using the NV and TI. Remember to keep both of them pressed against your face so there’s no bleed light. Turn both their gains down so your eyes will adjust faster when you’re not using them. This won’t take long. I’ll be right back.”

 

Chapter 20

With its suppressor attached, Nathan’s SIG wouldn’t fit into his front pocket, so he tucked it into his waist and used the sweatshirt to cover it.

He didn’t like leaving her behind, but this wasn’t like the warehouse operation. He figured he could sprint back to the Taurus in under fifteen seconds from anywhere across the street. At Marchand’s warehouse, it would’ve taken several minutes to return to the car.

He slid out, closed the door with gradual pressure to minimize the sound, and pressed the transmit button. “Lock the doors.” He heard his radio click just before the
clunk
of the doors being locked. “You won’t see me for about thirty seconds. I’m going to cross the street north of our position. Keep an eye out for anyone on foot. I’ll see a vehicle if it enters the motel’s parking lot, so you don’t need to report that.” He received another click. Again, she impressed him. He’d expected her to say something. “You’re doing great, Lauren. Take a look with the NV and let me know if anyone’s sitting in any of the cars. Do you see anyone?”

A soft
no
came through his ear speaker.

“Turn on the TI and tell me how many of the cars have warm signatures.” He didn’t need the info but knew it would keep her involved.


Four of them.

“Stay on the TI. I’ll be crossing the street in fifteen seconds. Are we still clear? Is anyone on foot in the parking lot?”


No.

Nathan angled toward the motel and glanced to his right where the Taurus was parked. He couldn’t see it yet. “Give me two clicks when you have me in sight.”

With his head slightly bowed, Nathan held the coordinate reader like a cell phone and pretended to be texting while walking. He heard two clicks.

“Copy. I’m going to traverse the sidewalk along the rooms. I’ll stop and act like I’m sneezing at the coordinates.” He received another click. Lauren was coming through like a champ. She was no substitute for an experienced operations officer like Harv, but she provided a layer of security he wouldn’t otherwise have.

This place looked like a thousand other fleabags. Cheap lighting fixtures covered with cobwebs flanked every door, half of them dark. He kept the cell phone ruse going as he advanced along the gauntlet of doors. From many of the rooms, a bluish glow from televisions bled through gaps in the curtains. A few windows were open. To his right, a fenced pool looked like it hadn’t been used in years. He continued to the inside corner of the motel and turned south. The GPS coordinates continued to align. Each step altered the longitude readout by several hundredths of a second.

A little farther…

Here
.

Room 127.

He went two steps past the door, turned away from the building, and pretended to sneeze. If anyone was staking out this room, he felt confident he hadn’t given himself away. He saw another opportunity to further enhance his act. At the south end of the motel, he stopped at a vending machine and reached for his wallet. Acting frustrated, he patted down his other pockets, before issuing a dismissive wave at the machine. With more purpose, he walked back the way he’d come.

Barely moving his lips, he said, “Lauren, do you copy?”


I’m here.

“I’m on my way back. ETA one minute.”


Okay.

Her first slip-up. She should’ve only clicked, but he wouldn’t hold it against her. She was probably confused by his vending-machine ploy. She had to be wondering why he’d done it.

At the motel’s office, he turned north and went fifty yards before crossing the street. He circled around the vacant lot and approached the Taurus from behind. “I’ll be there in ten seconds. Unlock the doors.” Good — she clicked the radio without responding. Had she said something, he’d need to remind her about acknowledgment clicks only.

Getting in the sedan, he said, “That wasn’t so bad, was it?”

“You faked wanting a soda, right?”

“Good call.”

“In case anyone’s watching.”

“Right again. Now that we know which room it is, we’re going to use the parabolic mike. I didn’t hear anyone, but I’m pretty sure the TV’s on in there.” He grabbed the NV scope. Sure enough, a telltale glow leaked from the edges of the curtains.

“Sit tight. I need a minute to set up the directional mike.” He retrieved the case from the backseat and removed the dish and its hardware from their foam protection. He assembled the parabolic mike, connected the wires and power source, and rolled his window down. Before putting on the headphones, he turned the volume to zero. Even though the Taurus was well concealed between two semi trailers, Nathan opted to forgo setting up the tripod to mount the dish. Using it inside the Taurus wasn’t ideal, but he preferred to remain concealed. It wouldn’t be a problem — the parabolic mike’s twenty-inch diameter would allow him to hold it just inside the driver’s-side window and steady it against the jamb. He felt a tap from Lauren and took off the headphones.

“How do you aim it?”

“You amaze me, Lauren. That’s an intelligent question. See this thing attached to the microphone’s boom inside the dish? Harv installed it for night use. It’s a low-power ultraviolet laser, nearly invisible to the naked eye, but the NV can see it easily. By using the mike in tandem with the NV, I can see exactly where it’s pointing.”

“You have the coolest stuff. Can I listen?”

“Yes, but in a minute. Stay on the TI and keep looking for any movement. Besides,” he said under his breath, “there could be age-inappropriate sounds inside that room.”

“Do you mean — ”

“Don’t ask.”

“That’s
totally gross
.”

“Just stay on the TI and look for movement.” After putting on the headphones, he turned the volume up and pointed the dish low to pick up the laser’s dot in the NV. He slowly tilted the dish up until the bright dot hit the motel’s wall. Adjusting the dish slightly to the right, he painted the laser on room 127’s door. The world outside came to life. The low drone of the TV sounded perfectly clear, but for an instant, he thought he heard something else. “Lauren, turn up the volume. The knob is on the control unit next to me. Turn it clockwise until it stops.”

The TV grew louder. There it was again, muffled but unmistakable. A young woman or girl was crying. He heard a toilet flush and then water running in a sink.

“What do you hear?”

“Shh…” The weeping got louder for a few seconds, then went silent. “Someone’s crying.”

“Crying?”

He kept the dish pointed at the door but heard only the television.

He thought about his options. They boiled down to two. One, do nothing and observe the room for an undetermined amount of time, or two, find out who was in there. He hadn’t felt the pressure of time until now. There was a desperate and forlorn sound to the girl’s crying from either physical or emotional pain. Nathan didn’t favor sitting on his hands while someone suffered, but gaining entry into that room involved severe risk. He needed more information. An idea formed.

“Lauren, grab my cell and call 411. When the automated voice asks for a city, say Tecate, California. Wait for the operator and then ask for the number of the Tecate Palms Inn. The operator will connect you. When the manager answers, tell him you’re in room 126 and the TV’s too loud in 127. You got that?”

“Yes.”

Nathan kept the dish pointed at the door while Lauren made the call. He moved it to the motel’s office and painted the laser on a window.

“It’s asking if I want a text of the number.”

“Choose yes.”

“Okay, it’s ringing.”

“I can hear it in there.”

In his headphones, Nathan heard a man with a Hispanic accent say, “
Tecate Palms.

Lauren relayed the phony noise complaint.

The man said, “
I’ll take care of it.

“He hung up,” Lauren said.

Nathan reacquired the door to 127 and heard the phone ring inside. An unfriendly male voice answered in Spanish, “
Bueno.

He couldn’t hear the manager but knew Lauren’s complaint was relayed.


My television isn’t loud.

He waited through several seconds of silence.


I said it’s not loud, you dumbass!

Nathan heard the phone slam into its cradle with a bang.

A second voice, also in Spanish, asked, “
Who was it?


The manager. He said our television’s too loud.


It’s not loud.


No kidding! That’s what I told him.

Nathan heard pounding on the wall. Then the man who had answered the phone yelled, “
It’s not us, you dumbasses!

Nathan now knew there were at least two men in the room, plus one female in distress who sounded young. Not a good combo, especially given the rude and dismissive attitude of the man who had answered the phone. How many people would pound on a wall and curse the occupants on the other side after a request for quiet? The guy didn’t even care if he had the right wall. Their accents were local, Tijuana or Mexicali. They clearly weren’t Spaniards from Europe. Voda and his men spoke quite differently, so if these guys weren’t Voda’s, who were they? Coyotes. It fit. Holly had said Voda had ties to coyotes, and Nathan believed coyotes tended to be criminal thugs who’d act just like the man in the motel room. Coyotes were also armed, often heavily. Jin’s note referred to another young girl in danger. The pieces fit, but not with absolute certainty. Nathan weighed the evidence.

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