Page 21 of Into the Gray Zone (Pike Logan #19)

They reached the end of the alley, seeing the hotel directly to their front, rising beyond a pile of rubbish and a small iron

fence. Brett took a knee and Jennifer slipped off her backpack, pulling out a pair of black Mechanix gloves and a set of Vibram

Five Finger shoes. She removed her blouse and stepped out of her cargo pants, revealing a black sports bra and black Lycra

yoga pants. She strapped on a fanny pack, tucked her hair under a black knit cap, replaced her hiking shoes with the Vibrams,

then shoved everything she’d taken off into the backpack and handed it to Brett.

He took it, saying, “You look like you’re going to a Pilates class.”

Glancing at the balconies, she said, “That would be harder than this.”

He said, “No weapon?”

She put in her earpiece, saying, “Yeah, I’ve got a weapon.”

Brett followed her lead, setting in his earpiece and saying, “Where is it hidden?”

She said, “My weapon is you. Test, Test...”

He smiled and said, “I knew there was a reason I was here.” He nodded at her and said, “I got you, Lima Charlie. How me?”

She nodded back, saying, “Comms up. Pike, Pike, you copy?”

“I copy. Koko, you don’t have a weapon?”

“I have nowhere to conceal it. If I get caught, I’d rather talk my way out than shoot my way out. Holding a gun will cause problems.”

“Unless it’s the damn terrorists who catch you. Hang on before you execute. Blood, Blood, what do you think?”

Jennifer scowled at Brett, not liking having her judgment questioned one little bit. He smiled at her and said on the net,

“It’s a good call. I’m here, and I’m armed. If she gets in trouble, I can react.”

Jennifer heard, “Roger all. Koko, you’re cleared to breach.”

She came back, saying, “Seriously? I have to get permission from Blood for my assault plan?”

Brett turned away, moving to the entrance of the alley, muttering Here it comes while pretending to provide security. He took off the thread protector of the Staccato and screwed on a suppressor, then

put on night-vision goggles, looking up and down the walls of the hotel while Pike got his ass reamed on the radio.

He said not a word on the net. The radio went silent and Jennifer came up behind him, squatting down and saying, “You ready?”

He chuckled and said, “Uhhh... yeah. Nothing better than running ops with two bickering lovers.”

She said, “Being his wife has nothing to do with it. I was right and you know it. If Pike was here instead of you, I would

have made the same call.”

“Unless I have to use my weapon. Then Pike will say it was my fault.”

She smiled and said, “Then I guess I’ll have to make sure you don’t use your weapon. But I see it’s all tricked out now.”

He held up the Staccato and said, “Yeah, it is. This thing is sweet. Gonna be hard not breaking the trigger if you screw anything

up.”

Then he became serious, saying, “Target room is on the fourth set of balconies down from the front. Second floor has lights on, and I’ve seen someone moving. Third floor—target room—is dark. Which means we might have beat them to it. No IR cameras spotted with the NODs, which means probably no cameras at all. No movement on the grounds.”

She took a couple of breaths and said, “Okay, then. I’ll get across the fence and up against the wall. You spot for any movement,

then follow.”

He nodded and held out a fist, saying, “Get some.”

She bumped it, then took off, a black shape moving through the night. She scaled the iron fence and slinked next to the courtyard

on the ground floor, taking a knee and saying, “In position.”

Brett reached her a few seconds later, looking up and saying, “Second-floor light is still on. You want to wait?”

She looked up as well, then said, “No. He could be up for another four hours. I’m headed up. If something goes wrong, I’ll

be coming back down to you.”

He said, “Roger that. Be careful.”

She grinned in the night, feeling the adrenaline course through her. She bounced up and down for a second, shaking her arms

and rolling her neck. She stopped, now in the zone, and said, “Catch me if I fall?”

He smiled and said, “Of course.”

He turned around and put his back to the wall, his knees out at a ninety-degree angle, holding the pistol with one hand, his

other held in the air like he was stopping traffic. She put her left foot on his knee, took his free hand in hers, then sprang

up until she was standing on his shoulders. He stood, raising her into the air against the wall. He felt her tense up, push

off, then the weight leave, and looked up, seeing her holding on to the scaffolding of the second-floor balcony.

Jennifer deadlifted her body up until she reached the top of the wooden rail, finding it six inches wide. Big enough for someone with her skills to sprint down it like a road. She stood up, seeing the third-floor balcony above her, this time with no help to get to it. It would require a leap of faith, springing up to the lower carving. If she missed the hold, she’d have to land on the narrow beam or fall all the way back down.

She scuttled to the end overlooking the courtyard, then turned around. She gathered her courage, focused like a laser on the

far wall where she’d plant her foot. She caught a shadow and saw a man in a bathrobe at the French doors, his belly hanging

out from the open front. She felt a blast of panic, saw his hand on the door handle, and sprinted, launching into the air,

planting her foot on the wall and springing upwards and back.

She turned in the air, snagged the lower beam of the third-floor balcony, and swung her legs up, cinching them on the beam.

She froze, seeing the man exit onto the deck, scratching his belly. She hugged the beam like a barnacle, silently cursing

under her breath and praying he wouldn’t look up.

Her radio came alive, “Koko, Koko, you okay? I have the guy on my front sight.”

She said nothing, snaking her hand to her earpiece and giving it a quick double click. She heard, “I copy. Stand by.”

The next thing she heard was a racket out on the lawn, near a trash pile rising to the level of the fence. The man heard it

as well and turned, then went to the opposite corner of the balcony, leaning over and shouting something in Hindi.

Jennifer used the distraction to scramble up the railing, flipping over it to the floor of the balcony. She took a knee, trying

to control her breathing. She said, “Blood, Blood, at breach. Thanks.”

She heard, “No problem. Circling around back to the launch point.”

She went to the French doors of the target room, pulling out a penlight and studying the lock. She withdrew a tension wrench

and pick, and in thirty seconds she was through the lock. She said, “Breach, breach, breach, going in.”

“Roger all. Standing by.”

The space was a simple one-room affair, with a queen-sized bed and a wooden dresser. Nothing else, not even a television set.

Off to one side was a bathroom the size of a closet holding a sink, toilet, and clawfoot tub, a cheap plastic shower curtain

around it.

She paused for a moment, ensuring the place was empty, then flicked on the overhead light, seeing a suitcase on the floor,

some dirty laundry next to it. She went to the suitcase and took pictures with a digital camera, then laid out everything

on the floor, taking time to go through the pockets on the clothing. She found a small notebook and flipped it open, a passport

photo of a man falling out. She took photos of each page with writing on it, all of it in Hindi Devanagari script, then took

a picture of the photo. She laid both next to the clothing, and then recorded it all again on her camera.

She replaced everything in the suitcase, utilizing the photos on her camera to ensure she left the clothing next to the suitcase

just like she’d found it, then went to the dresser, opening every drawer but finding them empty. She entered the bathroom,

seeing nothing but a toothbrush and some toiletries. She took pictures anyway. She was pulling open the shower curtain when

she heard a scrape at the door.

A key going into the lock.

Uh oh.

She threw her camera into her fanny pack and jumped into the tub, closing the shower curtain. She began breathing through

an open mouth, trying to stifle the noise.

She got on the net, whispering, “Blood, Blood, compromise. I say again, compromise.”

She heard, “Status?”

“I’m hiding right now, but there’s a seventy percent chance they’ll find me. If they do, I’m coming out hot.”

“Roger all. Standing by.”

She peeked through a gap in the curtain and saw four Asian men come into the room, all in suits. They began to rapidly search

it, cleaning all exposed surfaces and shoving everything on the floor into the suitcase. One man went to the dresser, repeating

Jennifer’s search but finding nothing of interest. Another sprayed the likely areas of contact with a bottle and wiped them

down like he was polishing wood.

Jennifer prayed they’d want to get out before scrubbing the entire place down. A man entered the bathroom and she held her

breath. She heard him slide all of the toiletries on the counter into a bag, then flush the toilet.

Bad sign.

If he was that dedicated in eliminating traces of the occupant, she was going to be found. She crouched, getting ready. She

heard him spray from the bottle on the sink and begin wiping. When the noise stopped, she balled her fists.

She heard nothing for a moment, just waiting behind the curtain. Waiting to explode. She saw the shadow of a hand beyond the

curtain, a blurry thing. She saw the fingers curl around the edge of the curtain and tensed on her back foot, cocking her

hip. The curtain slid open and an Asian man appeared, his focus on the tub. He saw her feet, looked up, and his mouth dropped

open. She pivoted with her hips, driving the punch with her legs, just like Pike had drilled into her, and slammed her fist

into his face with all of her weight behind it.

His nose flattened with a spray of blood, his head snapped back, and he dropped like he’d been axed in the head, his skull

bouncing off the sink as he collapsed. She leapt out, shouting into her earpiece, “On the move! On the move!”

And sprinted into the room.

She saw the other men snap upright at the action, all of them bewildered. She pivoted to the left, running to the glass of the French doors. She saw one man pull out a pistol and shout at her, and realized she didn’t have the time to pause and use the door handle.

She wrapped her arms around her head and launched forward, using her body to shatter through the glass and wood of the door.

She spilled onto the balcony and leapt up, wrapping one arm around the railing and launching over it. She hung for a split

second, until the momentum of her body swung back, and then let go.

She hit the railing below her perfectly, like a cat, and rolled off onto the balcony below. The man above her began shooting

through the balcony floor, the rounds peppering around her body. She scampered away from the bullets, saying, “Contact! Contact

on the second-floor balcony!”

Brett came back, “I have no shot! I have no shot!”

She leapt up, her brain screaming to get out of the funnel of fire, and the rounds shifted to the edge. The man with the pistol

continued shooting into the night, blocking her escape. She turned and sprinted to the door, finding it locked. She saw the

man in the room looking at his phone and pleasuring himself, his erection wilting at the commotion. He saw her outside and

closed his bathrobe, his face registering shock.

The bullets kept coming down and she backed up a step, lowered her shoulder, and smashed through the glass and flimsy wood

like she had done above, spilling into the room.

The man simply stared at her. She ignored him, running to his door and shouting into the radio, “New plan, new plan. I’m exiting

from the inside. I’m exiting from the inside.”

She flung the door wide and turned toward the stairs at the front of the hotel. She saw an Asian man burst out from the stairwell,

blocking her route, and turned the other way, sprinting flat out.

Brett came on, saying, “Give me a lock-on, give me a lock-on.”

She kept running, saying, “Back door. Back door. Front is blocked.” She heard a shot fly by her head.

Jesus Christ, they want a thief that bad?

She hit a stairwell, jerked the door open, and began taking the stairs four at a time, tumbling down them. She heard the man

behind her, then a round hit the concrete wall to her front.

She screamed, “He’s behind me and shooting!”

She heard, “I’m here, I’m here. Keep coming.”

She looped around the landing, glancing back and seeing a man with a gun hell-bent on stopping her. He fired again, the round

smacking off the concrete next to her head. She leapt down the final stairs, hitting the ground floor, and burst out next

to a swimming pool.

She didn’t see Brett and began sprinting toward the darkness at the rear of the hotel. She heard the door slam open behind

her and then a man scream. She turned around and saw Brett standing over a body, his fists working in tandem like a jackhammer,

bouncing her pursuer’s skull against the ground.

After the body became still Brett stood up, racing to her and saying, “I have the exfil. Follow me.”

He took off at a sprint and she fell in behind him, both of them running flat out. He dodged around a small courtyard and

she saw two people sitting on a bench, both watching them rush past, their mouths open. They reached the back of the facility,

and he jumped over the iron fence. She followed, and within seconds they were in another narrow alley. They kept going until

they reached Tito’s Lane, spilling back into the neon and blaring music.

He slowed, then stopped, looking behind him before sagging against a building. She did the same.

He said, “Well, I didn’t use my weapon, so this can’t be my fault.”

She laughed, letting out the emotion, feeling the adrenaline leak out.

She said, “I told you this was going to be a cakewalk.”