This mission was strictly intelligence collection. Ordinarily, we would physically remove the terrorist from the playing field, but in this case, Panda was a well-known businessman with ties to the royal family. There was no way to remove him covertly. Unlike the assholes we usually chased, his disappearance would cause an unacceptable investigative effort, so we decided to simply gather irrefutable evidence of his wrongdoing, then feed it into the system.

Our relationship with the kingdom went from hot to cold, depending on the political vagaries of the day, but the Saudis were scared spitless about the Islamic State, and worried about the growth of jihadist insurgents in their own country. There wouldn’t be a lot of tolerance and love once we boxed up Panda’s transgressions. Which is where the laptop came in.

So far, we’d been stymied because his penthouse was always manned, and nobody had been allowed past the door, including the daily maid service.

I said, “Why do we care about his sex habits? It’s not going to help us. Going in when he’s with her is the worst time because his security force will be on edge for the duration she’s there.”

Brett said, “That’s true. We can’t get in behind the escort, but if we can control the escort herself, maybe she could do it.”

They were all looking at me and I could tell they’d already come up with some half-baked plan. Had already talked it out. I said, “Okay, spill it. You want to pay off an escort to attack his computer? No way. I’m not trusting some prostitute to do it.”

Retro said, “He’s not requesting some skinny local. He wants a white girl. A very expensive white girl. Over a thousand dollars for the night.”

“What difference does that make?”

They all looked at each other, gathering their courage, then Knuckles threw it out. “We have a white girl.”

It took a moment for his words to register. Jennifer? I said, “No fucking way. You have lost your mind.”

Brett saw me winding up and said, “Wait, Pike, wait. Just listen. This’ll work. She goes in as the escort; we go in as security. We’ll be there the entire time.”

Retro kicked in, “Yeah, come on. You’ve been saying all along that Jennifer offers the team something because she’s a female, and this is it.”

I said, “Acting like a whore? Really? That’s what you thought I meant?”

Jennifer interrupted, “Hey, you’ve got a short memory. You threw me out on the streets in Prague as a streetwalker. Remember?”

Everyone quit talking and looked at her. I said, “That was just an act to get a reaction from organized crime. I wasn’t sending you in with a man. No way.”

Retro said, “She won’t be with him. . . .” He started to continue, but dribbled off at my glare.

She said, “I’m willing to listen. What’s the plan?”

I said, “Jennifer, no way. If you think I’m—”

She cut me off with a raised hand, something I would never have tolerated from the men. She said, “What’s the plan, Knuckles? I’m sure you’ve thought this through.”

He looked at her, then at me. He waited a beat then said, “Well, first we interdict the real escort. Then, Brett, Pike, and I go with you as security. You get in the bedroom with the guy and swipe him with ABS. When he’s in the bathroom shitting his guts out, you clone the computer.”

She nodded, thinking, then said, “How quickly does ABS work? I don’t want to fend him off while I’m waiting.”

Knuckles grimaced and said, “Trust me, it works within seconds.”

I heard the discussion and realized the plan might actually succeed. In fact, it most likely would succeed. ABS was a chemical compound applied to the skin in the form of ChapStick, lipstick, or other ingenious methods. It was absorbed into the bloodstream and caused massive, explosive gastric distress. Being knuckle-draggers, we couldn’t pronounce its complicated chemical formula and called it ABS—for Atomic Blow-Shits. We’d used it on a past operation, and Knuckles had accidentally gotten it on himself as well as the target, and had suffered the consequences.

He said, “It’s fast, but if you get it on yourself the mission’s over. Then you’ll both be fighting for the toilet.”

I said, “But we don’t even know where the computer’s located. What if it’s not in the bedroom?”

“Then we call it a wash and she leaves. Panda will be in no condition to do anything either way. The only risk is that Jennifer’s potentially out of play for future operations.”

I said, “You’re good with this?”

“Well, yeah. It’s just a mission, and Retro’s right. Unless that guy’s asking for a male, I’m the only one who can do it. You’d do the same if he was gay, right?”

Not on your life.

“Uhh . . .”

Brett cut in, saying, “She’s already proven she can sneak in and out of hotel rooms at night. She’s a natural.”

I whipped my head to him, catching a smirk, which wound me up. He said, “Whoa, why are you getting pissed? She’s climbed walls as slick as marble to access rooms all over the globe. That’s all I meant.”

I glared, seeing all of them trying mightily to stop from grinning. Even Knuckles. Jennifer said, “Yeah, Pike. You’re the one that’s always making me climb and break in somewhere. Let’s do it.”

She started walking to the door and I felt the shame of her being the butt of a joke she wasn’t even getting. I was disappointed in the team’s lack of respect.

I gave them a death stare, then caught up to her with the team trailing behind. I stopped her, wanting them to admit they were secretly giving her a slight. “That’s not what Brett meant.”

She rolled her eyes and said, “Pike, I know exactly what he was saying. I just didn’t think it required a response. They’re juvenile boys playing juvenile games. Just like you do. But it’s the first time they’ve ever made fun of me to my face. Progress.”

And it dawned on me she was right. It wasn’t a lack of respect. It was the opposite. They felt comfortable enough with her on the team to actually start ribbing her. Just like the guys on the team did with one another. As I had done when I’d entered the room with Brett.

She continued, glancing from man to man. “But they’ll be a Taskforce team tonight. Wired for the mission. Right?”

Knuckles smiled. “You better believe it.”

6

Under his breath, I heard Knuckles say, “Holy shit.” I turned and saw Jennifer coming out of the bathroom of the cheap hotel room we’d rented to prepare for the mission. She looked stunning. I mean, I might be biased, but she was breathtaking. I wondered if it was just me, but I saw that Brett was slack-jawed. Mesmerized.

She caught the looks and said, “What? Is this not what a high-end escort would wear? Should I look sluttier or something?”

Nobody said anything, and she said, “Hey, what’s the problem?”

Knuckles finally managed to find his mouth. “Man alive, Jennifer, you clean up nice.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing . . . It’s just that you’re always wearing jeans or something. Hair in a ponytail. No makeup. I’ve never seen . . . I mean, you never . . .”

“So my natural state is ugly?”

He started stumbling over his words, and I saw her smile.

She’s going to have no trouble with Panda.

We’d spent the better part of the day getting ready for our little adventure, going to the Westgate mall in Nairobi, the same one those assholes from al-Shabaab had assaulted in 2013, slaughtering over seventy people. The men had spent all of thirty minutes buying cheap suits. Jennifer, on the other hand, went hog wild. She was allowed to shop on the Taskforce dime, and she’d spared no expense, buying a black cocktail dress with a modest décolletage, jewelry, makeup, a mani-pedi, a high-end wig, and some sort of ridiculously expensive high heels called Jimmy Choos. I had no idea how she knew what to purchase, because she routinely wore nothing but work clothes for the business, but apparently, it was in the female DNA.