Chapter 10
Jennifer and I stayed on the west side of East Bay and slowed down when we came abreast of the target. He reached Vendue Range
and took a left, heading to the harbor. We crossed East Bay and caught up just in time to see him go into a place called the
Griffon.
I’d been there a few times before. With wood paneling, an oak bar, and about a hundred beers on tap, it was about as close
to a true English pub as you could find in Charleston. Its unique kink was signed dollar bills stapled to every surface, something
that was a tradition from folks visiting. It wasn’t a tourist trap, but being on Vendue in the heart of the peninsula, it
also wasn’t a hidden local’s place, so why the guy was going inside was anybody’s guess.
Maybe he just wanted a beer.
We gave him a minute to get settled and then followed behind, entering and pretending to let our eyes adjust to the gloom.
I spotted him at a table in the back, sitting with some guy wearing a business suit.
The only other table available was a postage stamp–sized one near the front door, which worked out well as it allowed us to
see his location without having to crane our necks in an obvious attempt at surveillance.
The waitress came over and we ordered a couple of rum and Cokes, which was a shame since we couldn’t drink them.
Jennifer said, “Those two look completely out of place together.”
“I agree. This isn’t the bed-down, that’s for sure. If I were to guess, I bet that guy’s a fence or a pawnshop owner, and our thief is making a deal with him, using our laptop as proof of the goods.”
The waitress dropped off our drinks, and I glanced around at the money stapled everywhere, saying, “I wonder how many of these
bills get stolen by patrons?”
Before she could answer, the Robin team came on the net, saying, “Pike, Pike, this is Veep, we’re in, and you were right.
This place looks a little like a Goodwill store, with used stuff all over the place. Car stereos, cameras, laptops, jewelry,
and luggage. It’s like the storage unit for thieves. You want us to initiate the call?”
I said, “We have jackpot here, but no bed-down. Phase Batman may take us the rest of the night. Go ahead and initiate Robin.”
He said, “Roger that.”
Jennifer touched my arm, and I focused on the table, seeing Hoody pass a key to Pawn, then open our laptop. He powered it
up, said something, and Pawn smiled, nodding. Pawn closed the laptop and passed across a thick envelope. Hoody stuffed it
in his pants, stood up, shook Pawn’s hand and left the bar, walking right by us without a second glance.
I called Knuckles, gave him an update, and said, “We’ll follow him to his vehicle, then pass a description and direction.”
Pawn drained his beer and rose to leave. He glanced around, then shoved the laptop into Hoody’s backpack and slung it over
his shoulder. He exited right next to us as well, and I stuck much more money than was necessary under my untouched RC. I
stood up, thinking, Waste of good rum . . .
I gave him a moment, calling Creed, “Which way is the laptop going? East or west?”
“West. Back towards East Bay Street.”
I flicked my head towards the door and we exited, falling in behind the target. He crossed over East Bay and kept going west.
He reached a narrow alley and took a right, now going north, which confused me. There was no way there was a vehicle in the
alley, as I could see iron posts preventing just that.
Jennifer said, “That’s Bloody Alley. It cuts back over to Cumberland Street. He’s probably headed to a parking garage, but avoiding the crowds.”
I said, “Bloody Alley? What the hell is that?”
We reached it, and she said, “Do you really live here?”
The alley was narrow, dark, and paved with cobblestones, cutting in between old buildings and church cemeteries. I could see
a group of people walking towards us, flashlights bobbing, and our target weaving past them.
Ghost tour.
We entered, just a couple out on a date in the dead of night in an alley from the seventeenth century called “Bloody.”
We went by the tour, hearing the guide talk about the alley’s bloody pedigree. I was pretty sure he was just making shit up.
We got on the far side of the group and I saw the target ahead of us, a lone man walking all by himself in a dark alley with
no escape.
It clicked.
“Knuckles, Knuckles, where are you?”
“Cruising East Bay waiting on the call.”
“Come up Cumberland. Get to Bloody Alley and stop right at the entrance.”
He said, “Bloody Alley? Where the hell is that?”
Jennifer came on, saying, “It’s actually called Philadelphia Alley. It hits Cumberland just past State Street. You have to
look for it, it’s tiny. Too small for a vehicle.”
He said, “Okay, then what? Is his car there or something?”
I glanced back at the ghost tour and saw them almost at the mouth of the alley, about to exit. Perfect.
I said, “No. Park the Jeep right there and put on your hazards. There’s a roadside emergency kit in the back of the Jeep.
Pull out the flares and throw them into the alley. Make it look like some sort of hazard, like the exit is blocked. Force
the target back to us.”
Jennifer snapped her head to me and I said, “Target’s met the in extremis assault criteria, but we can’t close the distance to him without him knowing we’re coming. I don’t want to get in a gunfight if he’s armed, especially since I don’t have a gun. I want you to make him turn around.”
Knuckles said, “Passing State Street. What if he keeps coming to me?”
“Let him go, we’ll revert to the original plan.”
I saw the Jeep screech to a halt at the end of the alley, then its flashers go on. The target stopped, silhouetted by the
lights at the end of the alley. A flare exploded into life and floated in the air, landing five feet from the end of the alley.
A second one followed.
The target was about a hundred feet away, standing still. I said, “Jennifer, just keep walking. When we get next to him, trap
his hands.”
She didn’t ask a single question, just shifted her purse, putting it over her neck and sliding it around to her back.
The target turned and began retracing his steps, moving at a fast clip right towards us. He came abreast, saying, “Looks like
they closed the exit.”
Jennifer reached out and grabbed both of his wrists with her hands. Shocked, he said, “What the fuck—” and I punched him straight
in the mouth, a jackhammer blow with all my weight behind it.
Jennifer let go of his hands and he flopped to the ground, unconscious. I checked his pulse, found it steady, and said, “Grab
the backpack.”
She did so and we skedaddled towards the Jeep, me saying on the net, “Fire it up. Exfil.”
Knuckles backed into the street and we jumped in. He began driving down Cumberland saying, “Where to?”
“The Robin team.” I got on the net saying, “Veep, Veep, have you initiated?”
“Yeah, a couple of seconds ago, but nobody’s shown up yet.”
“We’ll be there in two minutes. Get ready for exfil.”
Knuckles drove as fast as he could on the narrow streets, skidding onto Meeting Street and driving north. I saw Veep and Brett
on the east side of the road and Knuckles slowed.
Veep and Brett piled in, asking what had happened.
I filled them in, ending with, “With any luck, the police will make a connection to the Pawn guy. Worst case, he got a little tune-up for stealing stuff.”
Knuckles smiled, saying, “And now you don’t have to say anything about the police in the exercise AAR.”
“Well, yeah. That thought did cross my mind. Speaking of which, let’s go cock the terrorist safe house and get back into exercise
mode. Long day tomorrow.”
My phone vibrated in my pocket, which surprised me, since anyone who would call was standing next to me. I pulled it out and
saw the caller ID. I said, “Jesus, it’s Wolffe. How in the hell does he already know what we’re doing down here? Did Creed
call his ass?”
I got blank stares from the team and answered. Wolffe said, “Go secure,” and I knew it was bad. If Creed had snitched on us
I would have his ass. I waited for the encryption to synch, then said, “What’s up, sir? Why are you calling so late? Everything’s
fine down here.”
“Good to hear it because everything’s going to shit up here. I need your team immediately.”
So it has nothing to do with our exercise. “What’s the fire?”
“You remember that assassin, the Ghost?”
Now really confused, I said, “Yeah, of course. I’m the one who captured him.”
“He’s escaped. He’s on the loose somewhere in America.”