"Seek and Ye Shall Find" Part 2
“Seek & Ye Shall Find II” Park, suburban New York City 1200 hours, 18th of April 2008 The day was cool, comfortably so. Spring was well underway as evidenced by the blooming early season flowers and the leaves growing to their full size on the trees, but a cool breeze had been blowing through this morning. It was said it might be another warm summer, global climate change and all, and the people of the city were out taking advantage of the comfortable weather on their lunch breaks. A couple of them, a rather large man and an athletic looking woman ran along two paths that joined each other following the edge of the park, a few yards in from the street. He was dressed in lightweight black nylon wind pants, and his windbreaker was tied around his waist to reveal a muscular torso under a tight drab green tee-shirt. A dark stripe of sweat ran down its front and back from the shoulders, and it was clear he’d been jogging for some time, yet his breathing remained even and relaxed. She wore running tights and a modest sports-bra top tucked into the tights. Both wore head phones plugged into cassette tape players on their hips, different brands, with the music at a low volume. They smiled and waved to each other as they approached the intersection, apparently knowing each other from some social group, and he increased his pace slightly to draw alongside her as she rounded the turn onto the main path. “Hey there! Mind if I join you?” Dennis asked, the speech only slightly strained through the running. “Sure, if you can keep up!” Cindy replied cheerfully, putting on a burst of speed. Dennis grinned, knowing she wouldn’t keep it up for long, and hurried to keep up with her. They had another thirty minutes of this, assuming nothing interesting would happen, and then they had to be ready to operate. This meant they couldn’t waste their strength and energy in pointless competition. As he ran his eyes scanned the surrounding brush, the leaves growing thick enough now to make it possible, just, for someone to conceal themselves among them. They would loop back on a parallel path, farther into the park to see if anything would change with the angle of view. A worker, unremarkable in appearance, hurried to a bus stop and, between looking around nervously, scanned the schedule. He swore, hitting the pole on which it was posted with the heal of his hand, and grumbling returned to the bench. After another suspicious look around he pulled a newspaper from his inside jacket pocket, unfolded it to the front page, and began to read disinterestedly. It would be a long wait for the next bus. Still, something concerned him, and he kept looking up and around. Someone would have to talk to him about doing that more furtively. Move the eyes, not the head. A nice rental sedan from the Hertz at the nearest airport drove slowly down the street past the bus stop, the driver stealing occasional glances at the trees in the park, slowing without realizing it, and barely managing to avoid being the cause of un-due honking. He made a nearly full loop around the park, but turned into a side street away from the park before again reaching the bus stop, made a left turn, and continued parallel to his former course. So he would make his driven way along all the streets within three blocks from the bus stop, a couple times, before he would be sure he’d found what he needed. An old plumber’s truck pulled up in front of an apartment building, not quite across from the bus stop, and an American Indian man trudged, bedecked in coveralls and with a tool belt and other paraphernalia, directly from the vehicle into the building. He did not appear nervous, or to be looking around any more than anyone would, but he was much more keenly aware of those around him than were most people. His step, too, was just a little too light and smooth for most workers of his type. A couple minutes later, had anyone been watching, he might have been seen looking around the rooms on the second and third stories of the building, facing the park, rummaging around as though looking for something to fix. It was 12:30, and the bus would arrive in five more minutes. The man waiting on the bench was looking especially anxious. The couple jogging through the park had ceased in their idle banter, and now ran past the back of the bench for the third time in a companionable silence. Cindy risked a doubtful sidelong glance at the subject. Wouldn’t someone like him just get in the way, or was it part of his act? The sedan pulled by one last time, and pulled into the curb around the corner from the bus stop. The Native American climbed down the fire escape from the building he’d been looking through, walked away from his vehicle, and stood at the entrance to an alley about a half block from the bus stop and across the street from it. He stood in the shadows, eyes roving about. After a moment he pulled out a cell phone, speed dialed a number, and spoke. “Outfit, Sport Jacket. Sit Rep?” Eric requested Dennis looked to Cindy, who nodded. He depressed a button on his portable cassette tape player, while continuing to jog, though more slowly now, and spoke, the vibrations of his voice picked up by the earphones and transmitted at a high frequency. “Sport Jacket, Shoes and Socks. All clear here.” Timothy wore a hand’s free device attached at one end to his cell phone on his hip, the other end plugged into his ear. He removed put down the map he’d been examining, pushed the “talk” button on the cell, and spoke. “Sport Jacket, Slacks. No mud puddles to go through on my rout. I think we’re clean.” Eric listened to each member of Beta Squad, the Owl’s Brood report in, and then spoke again. “Shirt signals a go. Move in. No sudden changes. Lets do this.” Cindy and Dennis reached the next branch off of the main bike trail and took it to the left, across the park. They accelerated slowly, hurrying to reach the rendezvous point in time. Timothy watched his rear view mirrors between further examinations of the map, and searches out the windows for landmarks. The map reading was not entirely an act, as he reviewed potential escape and evasion routs while he waited. Eric ambled across the street, still having avoided notice from Howard, sitting on his bus stop bench, and made his way along the street toward the bench. He’d picked out the building most likely to be used by surveillance, the day before, and having watched it from a distance for the past two hours, had now made sure it really was empty of any one caring about Howard or those he would meet. He now approached the bench and sat down, stairing straight ahead. "Don't look at me." “So, what’re we gonna do?" Howard replied, trying hard not to look at Eric. Just sit here an’ talk?” Howard asked impatiently. “My butt’s etting’ kinda sore, y’know? An’ it’s cold out here.” “Yeah, sure.” Kihn replied, trying to talk in a way that would not seem out of place among the middle class WASPS, as lacking in care for proper use of language as they were. “You want to get a cup of coffee? I know a place.” “Uh sure, of course. Lead on sir.” Howard was clearly surprised at the friendliness Eric feigned. “All right, let’s go.” Eric stood and led down the sidewalk and around the corner to where the sedan waited. A couple of cones had been placed in the parking spot ahead of it two hours earlier, ensuring that Timothy would have plenty of room to get out quickly if he needed to. The rear door was ajar, and Eric motioned Howard to get in, looked around another moment, and slid in himself. He exchanged a look and slight nod with Timothy in the rear view mirror, and the car pulled smoothly into the lane and moved down the block. Traffic was decent considering the location. It wouldn’t allow any high-speed chases, but it wasn’t a traffic jam, either. They stayed in the left lane, turned left at the corner, and, slowing down for the turn, took an additional two passengers who had been hiding between parked cars. Timothy continued driving as Cindy in the front passenger’s seat, and Dennis in the seat behind her, exchanged the modified salute they’d taken to using. It was like a sloppy but otherwise normal salute as they brought their hands up to their foreheads. It finished with a downward and outward sweep of the hand, fingers spread, representing a swooping owl with spread talons, and accompanied by a low “Whoo!” Often they’d tap the outsides of their hands at the bottom of the sweep. They felt good. Phase one of the op had gone down exactly as planned, and they were sure no one had noticed them. Howard appeared totally confused, and several steps behind, but he kept his questions to himself, probably scared by the very large seeming Dennis squished into the seat on his right. They rode in an uncomfortable silence-but for a few words of chit chat between Dennis, Cindy, and Timothy-for thirty minutes while Timothy turned sudden corners, doubled back, changed lanes under overpasses and took sudden off ramps, all without exceeding the speed limit, to make sure they weren’t being followed. This wasn’t his big thing, but he was sort of getting into the whole operations scene, and Eric had taught them all much since they’d returned from Utah. Finally, they pulled up to a truck stop across from a small, anonymous looking motel shortly outside of town, pulled around to the side where they wouldn’t be seen unless someone were looking for them, and parked. “I’ll go check things out at the motel,” Timothy offered, mostly for Howard’s benefit. It had already been arranged that way. The others assented, and he took the keys, a bag, and his map, and headed across the street. “Would you still like that coffee?” Eric asked Howard. “Uh, okay, sure. We gonna talk in there?” Eric did not respond, but spoke to Cindy and Dennis, for the benefit of anyone who might be listening in. “You two want anything?” “Well, since you’re offering, a coke would be nice.” “I’ll take the largest thing you’re willing to pay for. But, hey, take your time.” “Right. Meet at the motel if all’s clear. Number 3.” “Roger” “Eye Sir.” They all piled out of the vehicle taking overnight bags with them that they’d placed in it early in the morning when Timothy rented it. Cindy made a beeline for the outhouse, Dennis wandering down the highway a little away from the truck stop and motel, and then off on a social trail into the woods. Eric and Howard entered the truck stop, ordered the food and drinks, while Eric scoped the place out. He garnered brief, curious, but uninterested looks from the men, and few longer more appreciative glances from the women, but no one was trying to hide any surveillance of him or Howard. After an appropriate interval Eric excused himself to the bathroom, stopping where he could still watch Howard without being visible to most of the other people in the seating area, and took out his cell phone. “Outfit, Sport Jacket. Sit Rep?” “Slacks clear.” “Socks clear” “Shoes clear” “Sport Jacket Clear and good to go. Let us see our new closet, shall we? Within the next five minutes Howard and Eric came from across the highway, Cindy came up the highway on the motel side, from the direction of town, and Dennis on the motel side from farther down the road. Cindy and Dennis both circled wide just before coming back into sight of the motel, checking the woods on the motel side of the road for surveillance, and then Timothy let them all into room three. The doors and windows locked, and curtains drawn, they were ready to begin. Timothy had already scanned the room for bugs with a device he’d designed with some help from Eric and the existing models, making significant improvements over what other spies were probably using. They turned on some music to thwart lasers that might pick up window vibrations, and sat down to business. Two hours later the owl’s brood had put Howard-bewildered as he already was by all of the operational and counter-surveillance measures the team was taking-through the ringer. It was the team’s turn now, Eric having heard it all twice and committed to memory what he needed, and he put them through the ringer as well. It was a series of quizzes on the material Howard had offered them. They made sure he’d kept his story straight, that he wasn’t feeding them miss-information by cross-examining him repeatedly. Now, Eric cross-examined them. They needed to know the target as much as possible not having met him, almost as though they’d been with Howard and experienced what he related to them. It was some time before Eric was confident in the ability of each of them to recall needed information, himself included, by then all were showing signs of fatigue. Howard, having been quickly forgotten once the information was out, had fallen asleep long ago. It was time for a coffee break, though none would leave the motel until they were ready for the mission, and they would drink and eat what they’d brought with them or could order in. A little banter ensued concerning what was being eaten and drank. Eric, of course, had his tea and jerky. Cindy was not, by any means, a vegetarian, but she was somewhat more concerned about her health and no one else would accept her offer of the extra carrot sticks she’d brought. Dennis had an MRE, beef stroganoff, perhaps getting into mission mode? Timothy, not surprisingly, had an assortment of junk food. All were disgusted by everyone else’s selections, yet they ate together and maintained good spirits. Ten minutes break, and it was time to get down to planning the mission. Maps and blue prints were laid out over the bed and the small table with clear plastic overlays and pens passed out. Much of the same information was on Timothy’s lap top screen, and though he could not automatically scan marks made on the plastic sheet into his computer, he was able to add his own versions to the documents almost as quickly as the others added them to the plastic sheet. Cindy split her time between looking and referring to his screen over his shoulder, and bending over the table with the other two. There were several options for the mission. It was to be a clean and covert kill, so it would be preferable that no one know what had happened until some time after the fact. That would be difficult, considering the target’s security. It wasn’t heavy, only two men armed only with sub-machine guns, according to Howard and the FBI surveillance photos, but they were with him most of the time. The most obvious exceptions were when he was in his bathroom or sleeping. There would be a number of ways of poisoning him at those times, or with a slow acting poison at any time. No one on the team had the kind of specialization in the use of chemicals, however, that would make such a procedure more reliable, and there was the problem of access to him. Likewise for a knife or pistol killing by night or in his bathroom. Lack of guards not withstanding, his property was well guarded by Dobermans, high walls and fences, and various alarms. Though the infiltration would be possible, there was too much risk of capture at some point during the mission. It would be least risky and difficult to hit the target when he was on the move, only his two guards to go through. They could be dangerous, certainly, and there seemed no need to kill them and risk a more prolonged engagement and possible endangerment of themselves or civilians. A bomb or other ambush were out, also, because of the risk to non-hostile civilians. The best option, they determined after some discussion and as Eric expected, would be to snipe the guy as he exited his vehicle on its way to his legitimate employment. That left many details to work out, but those were only a matter of time and brainstorming, and a plan was soon in place. Contingency and Escape and Evasion plans followed before they dumped things off the bed, rolled out their pads and sleeping bags, and fell, exhausted, to sleep. They would let Howard go, not knowing their plans as he’d been mildly drugged once they really got going. If all were well between him and his boss for a week, with the Owl’s Brood survailing to make sure his suspicion had not been aroused, then if all was well, they would make the hit. Return