The Widow's Strike (13 page)

“I
could climb to
it. Get
in from underneath the SkyPark. Then I could just access his floor from the service stairwell.”

Looking at the map of the Marina Bay Sands hotel, that was possibly the dumbest idea anyone could have ever come up with. Not to mention I was completely surprised at who had broached it.

“Jennifer, please. It’s almost sixty stories in the air. You’ll have to work your way under the SkyPark platform. It’s not like a straight rappel. I know you don’t want to give up the lead you found, but let’s not do something stupid.”

Before we’d left Thailand, we’d done a pretty thorough dig into the general, trying to get a handle, and had initially come up empty. Everything we had on him under the name Malik died in Thailand. No credit card usage, passport, or anything else in Singapore. We’d used digital reach-back with the analysts in the rear to build a thorough targeting matrix and had come up blank. He’d cleaned his tracks completely, and we were having no luck with any historical patterns.

Jennifer had asked the hackers to forward his room bill from the hotel in Bangkok. They’d initially refused, saying it was scrubbed and clean. No information we didn’t already have. I’d ordered it anyway, even though I thought they were right.

While the rest of the team went back to the targeting matrix, trying to find some angle we had missed, Jennifer stared at the bill. She knew all we needed was one little bit of digital fingerprint to work with, and I’ll be damned if she didn’t find it.

“Have you cracked the hotel itself, looked at the initial reservation?”

Via our “company VPN” the analyst said, “No. We got that from the credit card statement. Takes too long to get into the hotel and find his reservation. Too risky, and there won’t be anything we don’t already have.”

I could tell he was miffed at someone questioning his job but I also knew nobody was perfect. I let it run.

Jennifer said, “Even with the confirmation code? It’s on this bill. Should be easy. I want to see the initial reservation.”

The analyst started to protest, and I said, “Just do it. Can’t hurt.”

Thirty minutes later, while the rest of us were spinning our wheels, Jennifer turned away from the reservation on her screen and said, “Run this number through.”

The analyst, interrupted from talking to the team, said, “Why? What now? You’re slowing down progress.”

“It’s some sort of frequent flyer/hotel bonus points number. See where else it’s been used.”

It turned out to be registered to some bogus Iranian carpet manufacturer and was now tied to a different reservation, under a different name. At the Marina Bay Sands hotel in Singapore. I couldn’t help but feel a little smug for no reason whatsoever. After all, it was Jennifer who had found it, and yet she was part of
my
team.

I was also astounded at the utter stupidity of the slip, but that’s the way with this type of work. It was a stark reminder of how easy it was to be compromised. You never knew what was going to get you. How many digital scraps were tied to the Taskforce? From Thailand? From other missions? Something to worry about later. For now, we had a mission to accomplish, and the Iranians had given us the means to do so.

Lucky for us, the IRGC likes collecting bonus points on their secret missions.

Getting the deployment order from the Oversight Council, we’d immediately packed our bags and headed to Singapore, leaving Buckshot to play escort for Kavi Nakarat, getting him out of Thailand via other Taskforce assets. The police in Singapore had not been able to locate the father, Dr. Sakchai Nakarat, so we were still in play. The intent of our mission was the same as before: Get a handle on the Iranian general and pass off his pattern of life to the inbound team.

In my mind, the easiest way to do that was to get a block of rooms at the Marina Bay Sands. Unfortunately, it was way,
way
over our authorized per diem. I knew Taskforce finance would bust a gasket when they got the bill, but hey, sometimes you sleep in a swamp, sometimes you get a five-star resort.

The Sands was a technological marvel that encompassed a high-end mall, casino, and convention center. The hotel was three separate fifty-five-story towers capped with what looked like a cruise ship on top, called the SkyPark. The tower construction was what was causing our current dilemma.

We were in tower one, and our target room was in tower three. Ordinarily, this would have been no issue whatsoever, but there was also some rock star celebrity delegation in tower three, and its elevators were now manned with uniformed security to keep out the paparazzi. You had to have a key that registered in that tower to go up, as the three towers weren’t connected horizontally. Only on the top and bottom.

We’d learned quickly that, due to the size of the hotel, establishing a base of surveillance to catch the general leaving was impossible. There were simply too many exits. We needed early warning, a trigger that he was on the move and a direction. Which meant we needed access to his room.

Initially, we were just going to forge a key-card for access to the elevator, using a special device that would spoof the door locks—which was how we would access his room—but the guards ran the key-card through a wireless reader. Connected to the reception desk, the reader showed who you were, when you checked in, your room number, and when you were scheduled to check out.

The forged key only tricked the door. It couldn’t access the database. Basically, we’d have to spoof quite a few different systems to trick the guards, and we didn’t have time to test all of the intricacies. Too many single points of failure, which led us to our current predicament and Jennifer’s idea of climbing from the top of the building down.

Decoy said, “Pike’s right. There’s no way you’re going to free-climb underneath forty meters of outcropping hanging two hundred meters above the ground. This isn’t Yellowstone, with a bunch of pitons already seated.”

Jennifer said, “Wait, I’m not talking about going underneath the observation deck. Look at the blueprint. I can rappel right over the side near tower three and only have to go under about ten meters, on a curve. From there, I can get into the service stairwell through the window-cleaning balcony.”

I said, “Still the same problem. What are you going to do, rappel down, and then start swinging until you collide underneath with the pylon on top of the tower? No way.”

“Kurt said he gave us a complete package, didn’t he?”

I didn’t like where this was going, knowing she was way ahead on something. “Yeah, so what?”

“Well, it has climbing gear. Right?”

I relaxed. “Yeah, but that still doesn’t alter the problem. I’m not dropping you over the side with a rope and harness. Swinging like Tarzan isn’t the answer.”

“What about the Hollywood rig? And using the PVAC? I could drag myself down.”

She said it like “Peevac,” an acronym for Personal Vacuum Assisted Climber, a device invented by a bunch of college students on an Air Force challenge. Basically, it was two vacuum-assisted hand attachments connected to a suction generator held on the back. Theirs sounded like a jet engine and had giant hoses going from the back to the hand devices, looking like something out of a bad science fiction movie. We’d laughed about it when one of our R & D guys said we should take a look. We quit laughing when we saw an engineering student go up a ninety-foot wall unassisted. A brick wall, with a rough surface.

We’d taken the design and refined it. The hoses were a third of the size, and it only sounded like a large blender now. As good as it was, it wasn’t designed for something two hundred meters in the air.

“Jennifer, you have to test the PVAC on the chosen surface before you use it. It’s not designed for unknown construction. We don’t even know if it’ll hold your weight here.”

Blood was looking thoughtful. He tapped the map and said, “Yeah, but if she has the Hollywood rig, we’ll be holding the weight. She’ll just use the PVAC to pull herself under. It should work for that.”

I glared at him, not wanting anyone to encourage the debate. He looked sheepish and said nothing more.

Knuckles, turning from the map, said, “She can get over from the hot-tub area. It’s on the opposite side of the infinity pool and built for privacy. We could stage left and right, ensure it’s clear, then let her over. One controls the belay, everyone else provides early warning. Pike, this’ll work.”

Jennifer gave him a look of gratitude while everyone else eyed me to see what I would say. I thought the idea was idiotic, but I was torn because the other members of the team were siding with Jennifer. Treating her like an equal, which was something I wanted. If I said no, they’d always wonder if I was protecting her because I didn’t trust her abilities. Meaning they shouldn’t either.

She
can
climb like a monkey. And we don’t have any other way.

“All right. We have about six hours until nightfall. Jennifer, hit the mall and get a couple of bathing suits for cover. I’ll be the belay at the hot tub. Retro, get the guys in DC to give us a readout on his door lock. Get all activity, tied with the time of entry. I want to know when they opened along with how long before they opened again. Marry that up with the maid service so we can exclude false entries. Blood and Decoy, head to the airport and download the kit. You know what we need. Knuckles, you and I will recce the deck to see if this circus stunt has a chance of working. You focus on cameras and foot-traffic avenues of approach. I’ll find the launch point.”

Jennifer smiled and said, “This will be easy. Trust me.”

I shook my head. “‘Trust me’ is usually what I say when I’m sure something’s going to shit.”

A
ft
er an hour,
Jennifer felt
a little bit like a lobster in a pot. The key-card track to the general’s room had showed the door had been opened, but nothing since, which meant someone had opened the door and exited, or someone was still inside. They had to assume it was the latter, given the previous entries.

She was beginning to second-guess her great idea of rappelling over the wall. Not only could they not guarantee the room was empty, but the rock star in tower three had chosen tonight to take over the observation deck. Not more than fifty meters away and one level lower, there was an enormous party going on. Five minutes couldn’t elapse without some drunk couple passing by to get another fill at the bar or gaze at the infinity pool.

She hadn’t thought about it before, ignoring the glam of the Marina Bay Sands hotel, but the infinity pool had turned out to be a magnetic attraction. Just across from the hot tub, through the screen of lounges and foliage, it was an Olympic-sized pool that appeared to fade into the skyline of Singapore two hundred meters in the air. A unique marvel that caused all the invited party guests to come see and take pictures.

It didn’t help that she was seated next to two obese gentlemen from Greece. One kept sliding closer to her in an attempt to make accidental contact with her thigh. The man would have disgusted her on an ordinary day, but tonight it was infinitely worse. She couldn’t allow any contact whatsoever, because he’d feel the harness attached around her waist.

She waded into the center of the hot tub and turned around to face Pike, sliding her hands over his knees. Showing the slobs that she was taken.

She felt Pike stiffen and inwardly smiled.

She said, “You about ready to go back to the room?”

Meaning,
How long should we wait?

He slid his hands over hers, raising them off of his knees.

“I’m enjoying this. You mind staying for a little bit longer?”

She pulled up to her waist, leaving the harness in the darkness, resting her elbows on his knees, relishing the discomfort she was giving him. She leaned in.

“I’m enjoying this too. More than you are.”

She watched his face contort, trying to read his emotions and seeing only confusion. She broke into a grin, the exhilaration of what she was about to do flowing through her. Along with enjoyment of her ability to twist him up.

It wasn’t fair, but she did enjoy it. Enjoyed the safety of his company. She could act like a woman without any fear of repercussions. And not just from something as minute as rejection. He was her small corral of protection. The one man she could flirt with who would demand nothing in return. The one man she knew would never hurt her. Ever. Her own little fishbowl, partitioning her from the dangers of the real world like a goldfish was from the ocean. Dangers that had found her more than once and left her broken.

She said, “I heard Decoy go into the wall. You didn’t have to do that.”

He glanced away, embarrassed. “Well, he didn’t have to say that. Sorry you heard.”

She’d come back from getting him a set of board shorts and a one-piece for herself and had moved toward the bathroom to see how it fit with the harness. When she’d drawn abreast of the door, she’d heard Decoy in the other room of the suite say to someone she couldn’t see, “I don’t really give a shit if we get in at all. I just want to see that body in a bikini.”

She’d bristled, about to burst in and give him a piece of her mind when she’d heard a thump against the wall, then Pike saying, “She’s about to risk her life, you fuck. I’ve lived with the jokes before, but I won’t hear them again.”

Her hand over the doorknob, she’d waited. She heard some strangled breathing, then a voice she recognized as Blood’s say, “Pike. Enough. You’re going to choke him out.” Having seen Pike work, she knew the scene without needing to enter.

She’d moved back to the bathroom of the suite, but not before hearing Pike say, “No more jokes. Ever.”

Afterward Decoy was exceedingly courteous. Along with everyone else on the team. She valued it, even though she knew what Decoy had said was exactly that: a joke. He didn’t mean any harm and thought it was funny. It just wasn’t funny to her.

She patted Pike’s knee and backed up. “Don’t be sorry. I know where I stand, and I appreciate it.”

The words made him more uncomfortable, if that was possible. “Look, I didn’t do that because I think you need help. . . . I . . . he just pissed me off. . . . You do just fine by yourself.”

She smiled again, liking the fact that he was embarrassed about stepping in. Liking that he thought she would be angry at him for defending her.

She came forward again and squeezed his hands. “You have your moments, but that wasn’t one of them.”

He gave her an awkward smile, clearly afraid to open his mouth.

The obese Greeks stood up, crawling out of the hot tub like a couple of crabs and leaving them alone.

He waited until they were out of earshot, then said, “You ready to do this? It’s a long way down.”

She said, “Yeah. Way to change the subject. He’s still in his room, so no chance of leaving any time soon.”

His face clouded over. “Come on. You’re about to launch out two hundred meters in the air. Sorry about the mission focus.”

She smiled again. “Your buttons are
so
easy to push. I was teasing. Yeah, I’m ready. This’ll be easy, although I’m glad you’re on belay. I didn’t want to say it in the room, but I wouldn’t do this otherwise.”

He said, “I know. Trust me, I know. Might be your mistake. Knuckles has a lot more experience in the Hollywood rig than I do. The Taskforce started using it after I left the first time.”

“How hard could it be? I mean, it’s just a cable and a descender. If it can hold Arnold Schwarzenegger for a stunt, it’ll hold me. All you have to do is give me slack.”

He turned and flicked the descender they’d emplaced earlier, the running end of the thin steel cable coiled next to the bushes around the hot tub. It was barely noticeable in the darkness. A small piece of gear that could have been mistaken for window-cleaning equipment.

“This shit is made to be hidden from showing up on-screen. It’s not made for operations. Something that allows an actor to hang from a ledge without danger. Not something that allows an operator to perform. I don’t like it.”

She said, “I trust it. That cable can hold a car. The only thing that will make it fail is if you let it run free. And I know you won’t do that. Not if you want to sit in a hot tub with me when I’m not wearing a harness.”

She saw the emotions flit across his face and realized too late the double entendre that had unintentionally escaped. His mouth opened and closed, saying nothing. Before the silence could grow uncomfortable, they were saved by their earpieces chirping.

“Exit from the room. I say again, exit from the room.”

She felt the adrenaline rise and said the word he always did, trying for his usual confidence.

“Showtime.”