Page 69 of Into the Gray Zone (Pike Logan #19)

Jennifer and I entered the outskirts of the Dharavi slum, drawing more and more stares the farther in we went. The sun was

already down below the buildings, meaning any tours of the area were long over, and the denizens of the slum were wondering

what the hell we were still doing in here.

I called Brett and Knuckles, saying, “We’re getting the stink eye, how are you guys doing?”

Earlier, Brett and Knuckles had run a close target reconnaissance of the terrorists’ location and had sent me as much information

as they could, including photos of the target building and the structures up and down the alley. When they were complete,

they were supposed to come back to the Rock Star bird for a debrief, but Knuckles had called and said they’d found a place

to stay within sight of the terrorists’ location. An NGO canteen that had a smattering of greasy hippy-like Westerners coming

and going among the slew of locals.

Knuckles looked like a hippy himself, and Brett, being African American, managed to confuse everyone. He couldn’t be a tourist, so he must be with the NGO. That had been a few hours ago, and I wasn’t certain how long they could stay. We’d only traveled three blocks and Jennifer had been stopped twice for a selfie with random strangers, as if they had never seen a blond Caucasian woman.

Knuckles said, “We’re okay, but our heat state is rising. This place had enough turnover in the day that nobody’s noticed,

but now it’s slowed down. People are stopping longer, and sooner or later, someone’s going to ask to sit at our table.”

“Hopefully it’s later. We’ll be at your location in about five minutes.”

“What’s the plan?”

“We’re going to walk past the target on our way to your location to check on activity, then we’re going to make a hasty plan,

walk back, and slam that place. I brought bangers and breaching charges, so we should be good if they’ve got him locked up

in a reefer or other cage.”

“You really think Sledge is here?”

“I’d say it’s fifty-fifty. He might be at the residence, but that watch is here, so even if it’s just a terrorist, we’re going

to get something.”

Brett said, “What if it’s a room full of terrorists? There’s only the four of us.”

“It’s not going to be a roomful. You said you saw the work crew leave, right?”

“Yeah, they’re gone.”

“And one guy left and came back with food, but the Garmin didn’t leave?”

“Yep. Same guy left for both lunch and dinner.”

“There were only five at the wedding attack. Three who came in shooting, and the two bodyguards. One of the shooters was killed

that night, and one of the bodyguards was killed later, and we know Jaiden is in the residence, so that leaves two unaccounted

for.”

“But you know Jaiden isn’t at the residence by himself. He has help, and if he has help, these guys might also.”

“True, but the guy wasn’t carrying enough food for a platoon. I’m thinking five at the max. What’s the issue here? You think these amateurs are dangerous?”

I heard Knuckles laugh, then say, “Come on, as your 2IC I just felt it necessary to inform you of the danger.”

“I thought Danger was your middle name.”

Brett came on, saying, “I’m not worried about the locals, but what if we’ve read this wrong and the Chinese are in cahoots

with them? That Condor team is no joke.”

I hadn’t considered that. What if Mr.Chin had only told us the partial truth, and the Condor team wasn’t hunting the Garmin

watch like we were but was with the terrorists right now? It gave me a pause on the whole assault plan. I was all about flexing

under a time crunch, but maybe this was a little bit too much of a flex and Mr.Chin was walking us into a trap. For all I

knew, it was a Condor team member wearing the damn thing.

I said, “Let us get by the target and we’ll reassess when we link up.”

“Roger all. You having any trouble navigating?”

“Not a bit. App’s working like a charm.”

Like a couple of explorers in the Amazon for the first time, Brett and Knuckles had used a navigation application on their

Taskforce phone to leave a trail of breadcrumbs everywhere they went in the slum, including during the CTR of the target and

the final stop at the NGO canteen. They’d transmitted it to us, and now all we had to do was follow the trail.

We continued on, taking lefts and rights in the maze, following the breadcrumbs, and were about to make the final turn down

the alley that ran past the target when Brett came on, saying, “Pike, Koko, Pike, Koko, hold your position.”

We stopped immediately, me saying, “What’s up?”

“We just had two policemen walk by and they’re now standing just south of the target entrance.”

Policemen? In here? Taskforce intelligence said that rarely happened, and now they were outside our target?

Brett came on and said, “I don’t think they’re real police. I think the Condor team has found the Garmin.”

“Why?”

“They’re pale, and the uniforms look brand spanking new.”

“Can’t you tell if they’re Chinese?”

“No. They’re hiding their eyes behind sunglasses, which is also strange, since it’s close to twilight.”

Knuckles said, “They’re armed. Pike, the police here don’t carry firearms. These guys are both sporting Glocks. It’s a screwup.

They don’t know how the police operate.”

I peeked around the corner and saw them, two men in brown uniforms, each with a shock of black hair, sunglasses on their faces

and pistols on their hips, both facing away from us. They were about thirty feet away, the entrance to the target another

forty feet past them down the alley.

I said, “We’re out of time. Those guys are the recce for the target. They’re about to assault.”

“What do you want to do?”

I said, “We’re going to close the gap and take them down. As soon as we initiate, you head to the target. You make breach

and we’ll be right behind you.”

Jennifer looked at me like I was crazy. Knuckles said, “I’m not sure if that’s a solid plan.”

I said, “You want to just assault the place while they’re standing there? Or wait on them to clean out the nest and then go in?”

I heard nothing on the net, but off the net, Jennifer said, “What if they’re real policemen?”

I said, “We won’t go lethal. You take the one on the right, I’ll take the one on the left.”

Knuckles came back, saying, “Pike, this is Knuckles, standing by.”

I said, “Roger all. Listen, we need to get in and out as fast as possible, because we’re about to make a huge ruckus. We need

to beat the real police if we want to get out of here without wearing handcuffs.”

To Jennifer I said, “You need to get on him quickly, wrap him up and choke him out. Knuckles said these guys are no joke,

so no messing around.”

If I positively knew they were the bad guys, I’d have had us both use a knife to end the fight without a fuss, but I didn’t

know one hundred percent, so we’d have to discriminate here, bringing them to the ground and subduing them. Which sort of

sucked.

Jennifer tightened the rucksack on her back, and I did the same, cinching the straps as tight as I could so my kit wouldn’t

flop all over the place. She nodded at me and, on the net, I said, “Executing now.”

We turned the corner and began walking up the alley at a rapid pace, ignoring the odd person staring at us. They were no longer

an issue, because everyone was going to be staring fairly soon.

We got within six feet when my target glanced at us. I ignored him, like I was going to walk past, and then he looked like

he’d been hit with an electric current, slapping his partner and drawing his pistol. He must have been on the team in Agra,

because he recognized me.

Jennifer reacted instantly, closing the distance in a split second. She had one arm around her target’s neck before he could

get his pistol out, using her other arm to trap his gun hand. She swept his legs out from underneath him, slamming him to

the ground on his back, her arm cinched tight, pressing his neck into the crook of her elbow with the side of her head, pushing

forward with her feet like she was in a rugby scrum.

My target managed to clear his holster, the weapon swinging around to my face, but he wasn’t fast enough. I grabbed the wrist holding the pistol and shoved it skyward, and it discharged, scattering the crowd. My plan now gone to shit, I punched him with a hard right cross, rotated into his body, and flung him over my hip while holding on to his gun hand. He hit the ground and his pistol went off again. I kicked it away and it fired yet again, the bullet smacking the wall next to me. The spall hit my face and I realized it wasn’t from his weapon.

Someone else was shooting at us. I hit the ground and looked up the alley, seeing two supposed slum dwellers wearing raggedy

clothes with scarves around their heads, both with pistols out, shooting. My target stood up, a little dazed, and I grabbed

him, swinging him toward the fire as I drew my pistol. He was hit twice right in the chest, and I could feel the impacts.

I fired back, then saw the men rotating, firing away from me. Brett and Knuckles had finally entered the fight.

I saw one of the men in rags go down and dropped the dead weight of my target, swinging to Jennifer’s fight. She was still

trying to choke out her target, but he was fighting like a banshee. I shouted, “Roll off!” And she did. The man slapped his

hand on his holster and I drilled him in the head, flinging it back.

I turned back up the alley to see Brett and Knuckles running flat out to the target door, the other threat eliminated. They

stacked on the right, Brett in the lead, Knuckles digging into his knapsack. I said, “Jennifer, on me,” and ran to the left

side of the door. She stacked behind me, and I said, “Flash-bang.”

She dug into my pack and pulled out a banger, showed it to me, and I nodded across at Brett. Knuckles threw his in, Jennifer

followed, and the building vibrated from the explosions.

I raised my weapon and entered at the same time as Brett.