He took the bag and our earpieces squelched. “Pike, Retro. Panda and the Nigerian have made linkup. Meeting ongoing, and he’s already passed some sort of package across.”

All right. Intel.

I said, “Sounds good. Keep us abreast of what’s happening. Drop team is on the way.”

I turned to the two cat burglars and said, “Get lost. You need to be in and out before the meeting breaks up. I need you for phase two.”

Brett slid the door open, saying, “See you on the back side.”

They disappeared into the darkness and I began readying the kit necessary for the takedown. Tasers, drugs, and flex ties.

I called Blaine, saying, “Meeting’s ongoing. We’ve got a lock-on to the target, as briefed. What’s the status with Omega?”

“What’s the status with the product?”

“Being executed now.”

He said, “Stand by.”

I sat in the van, listening to the cooling engine tick in the darkness, waiting. Resisting the urge to contact Retro or Knuckles to see what was going on. I saw two men coming down the street, barely visible and blending into the shadows. They stopped outside the van, whispering to each other.

Great. Just what I need. Someone looking for some hubcaps.

I leaned forward from the back, keeping to the shadows, and flashed the lights. They jumped like a firecracker had gone off behind them and scurried away, making me smile.

I waited another seven minutes, growing antsy. Finally, the command net came alive. “Pike, Showboat. You got Omega with a caveat.”

“Roger. What’s the caveat?”

“Everything has to be perfect. You have the target and can get him without drama.”

“That’s always a rule.”

“Pike, don’t push my buttons. This isn’t my first rodeo with you. Straight from the Oversight Council—if it smells even a little bad, you let him go to get wrapped up with everyone else.”

“Okay. Roger all. You set with the Nairobi cops?”

“That was a little too quick. You understand the intent?”

I heard the team radio squawk.

I said, “Sir, I got it. Gotta go. Team’s calling.”

I clicked off without waiting on him to reply and said, “Last calling station, this is Pike.”

“Pike, Retro. Meeting’s breaking up.”

“Already?”

“Yep. Leader’s standing up.”

Shit. “Does he have the package?”

“Yeah. It was one of those padded envelopes. He opened it. I saw an old-school flip phone and a notebook.”

“Keep eyes on. . . . Break, break, Knuckles, this is Pike. Status.”

“We haven’t gone in yet. Got some squatters drinking chang’aa.”

Chang’aa was an ungodly home brew that was about fifty percent alcohol and fifty percent formaldehyde, battery acid, jet fuel, or some other liquid. I said, “How long have you been watching?”

Knuckles said, “Since we got here. They’re blitzed, but conscious. Wait, one just fell over.”

“Ignore them. Get in. They’re too stoned to remember anything.”

“It would make more sense to just sit them out. A few more minutes, and they’ll both be sleeping.”

“I don’t have that time. Panda’s meeting’s breaking up.”

Brett came on. “If they intervene? What’s the ROE?”

“Prevent them from seeing Knuckles enter. Period. Just get in, now. The leader’s about to move and I can’t execute without you two.”

In a calm monotone I heard, “Roger all.”

By all accounts, I should have aborted the second phase, letting the leader go. The situation had already exceeded Blaine’s intent, but luckily, his idea of “perfect” and mine were two different things. I wanted the leader.

Jennifer came on. “Pike, Koko. Leader’s shaking hands. What’s the call?”

Koko was Jennifer’s callsign. Something she’d earned on a mission in Indonesia by annoying Knuckles with repeated stories about a talking gorilla.

I said, “We have Omega. No change to the plan. You guys lock the back door.”

She said, “I monitored last transmission. You have an assault element?”

“Not yet, but I will.”

I heard nothing for a moment, then a long-drawn-out “Roger that. . . .”

The problem with the two-phased operation was that I had to use the same team for both. I had planned it for a staggered execution, but now it had become simultaneous. Retro and Jennifer would do nothing but prevent the guy from escaping. Brett would drive the van, and Knuckles and I would do a rolling interdiction. But that was all dependent on having Brett and Knuckles. I couldn’t very well drive the van and assault.

Brett came on, breathing heavily, “Inbound, inbound, fire up the van. We’re dragging an anchor.”

I leapt into the driver’s seat, saying, “Where are you?”

All I heard was, “Coming out right where we entered.”

Which was about a half mile down the road. I started driving, saying, “What’s up?”

“Gang territory. Chang’aa brewery.”

“Knuckles?”

He came on, sounding like he was breathing into a paper bag. “Can’t talk.”

I saw movement ahead, and recognized Brett in the headlights. I stomped the gas, reaching him just as Knuckles broke out of the close confines of the buildings. Brett jerked open the sliding door, and both spilled inside. I looked to my right and saw a pack of shouting youths waving sticks and running up the alley.

Brett slammed the door shut and shouted, “Go, go, go!”

I did, hearing something slam into the back of the van. I went about a quarter mile, circling back toward Ngong Road, then stopped. I turned around and said, “What the hell did you two chuckleheads do?”

Knuckles sat up, his dreadlock wig askew and his paint starting to run. He said, “I ought to kick your ass for making me wear this.”

I said, “Tell me you didn’t compromise the operation.”

Brett said, “No. That went fine. Drugs are in place. In fact, everything went fine right up until we were walking back through the neighborhood. A couple of thugs stopped us, demanding to know what we were doing in their AO. Apparently, there’s been some gang fighting between the various chang’aa brewers over turf. We just had the bad fortune to stumble into it.”

“And?”

Brett grinned. “And everything was going perfectly, right up until they shoved Knuckles. It was too dark to tell he was a cracker white boy, but his dreadlocks slipped. They saw that just fine.”

Knuckles said, “Tell him the rest, you shit.”

“What?”

Knuckles looked at me and said, “He took off running. Leaving me behind.”

Brett held up his hands, saying, “Just following orders. You said no fighting that would spike.”

I laughed and said, “All right, all right. Shake it off. Phase two is a go. We’ve got Omega and the leader’s on the move. Brett, take the wheel. Knuckles, get ready.”

Brett and I switched positions, and Knuckles growled, “I oughtta use the damn Taser on him.”

I called Retro and Jennifer. “Koko, Retro, this is Pike. Assault element secure. Moving your way.”

Retro said, “Pike, we’ve got an issue. The target is being tailed by one of Panda’s security. The black guy from inside the hotel that Koko swiped with ABS.”

15

I heard the transmission and cursed. We were now moving out of what even I would call perfect conditions.

“Why? What happened? What did the target do to spike security?”

“Nothing. I think Panda’s actually providing him protection without him knowing.”

“Is he moving on the projected route?”

“Yeah, but we can’t take him in view of the security.”

We had planned on assaulting the target just south of Adams Arcade. There was a road that ran east to west on the southern edge, acting as a border between the security of the mall and a flea market called Toi. Unlike Adams Arcade, Toi was a maze of vendors jam-packed together in makeshift huts, and was a local favorite for buying secondhand clothing. Most of the stalls would be closed at this hour, but not all.