"Variable, this is Cosine one." That was Dolan speaking. "Subject A is leaving the house now."
"Sounds about right." Clark muttered to himself. The man was a well educated individual that worked in the Turkey's department of defense. "Whats the dress code?"
"grey sports jacket, blue tie. The usual." Clark chuckled to himself back in the hotel room. The man was (as they all had discovered after a good electronics infiltration last night by Peled) a reasonably high placed individual in the Turkish department of defense. But oddly enough, wasn't taking the precautions that other individuals in the Bureau or Agency would have taken back in the States. Well, not everyone thought the same way as the Agency did they? And everyone was prone to pattern forming, its what intelligence was based off of. That and discreet observations on the most benign of subjects. Clarks experience in the Agency was a mixture of special forces work and Sherlock Holmes, where even the way someone dressed could clue an operative in as to how the person would function.
It also helped that the man hadn't noticed the jogger that had suddenly appeared every day at the same time around his house in the morning. Clark heard Dolan huffing as she presumably reached her target heart rate.
"Cosine one is passing Subject A" Peled, Cosine two, said. Clark didn't have a good visual feed here, that would be recorded into MP3 files so Clark could discreetly watch them on his Ipod later so he only had the radio chatter to tell him what was going on. How he wished to be out there with them but he was too old for this sort of game any longer. Just this last operation- he told himself though he knew it could never actually be the last one- and then it will all be over.
Subject A was an active walker, one of those environmental health nuts of the day and age. He worked out often in the evening, drove a Volkswagen MB-2 electric, walked often, tended to stay away from meat and ate organic foods and drank lots of water. Although the drinking pattern didn't appear to disregard a morning cup of coffee at the local shop, or frequent visits to nightclubs.
Clark didn't think his wife knew about those visits, or if she did she hadn't reacted to them yet. Subject A had numerous vices, between binge drinking, snorting lines of crack and had a powerful weakness for belly dancers and young girls. This was something to exploit.
"Excuse me sir," Clark heard Patricia Dolan saunter up to the man. She was affecting a very breathy voice, Clark suddenly found himself trying to focus on the operation. "you look lost, can I help you?"
The man said something inaudible. Peled would be scanning them close by along with Stuart and with Homer Johnston on overwatch (he mentioned something about the roof of a close by apartment) and Secant team waiting with the rented car for pick up. Secant one, Chavez, would be with the pick up car and the other two would be on tracking duty, mirroring Subject A's movements for the remainder of the day.
"Well you have that appearance, here you dropped this by the way sir." That would be Dolan's womanly charms working. She would be handing Subject A a slip of paper right now, with a phone number jotted down along with the name of the nighclub he frequented. "have a good day!" she said as seductively as she could. Clark laughed, making sure the microphone was shut off. He'd have to make a call to a certain Dr. Bellow, PH.D back in the states soon, but the psychiatric work here wasn't that hard to analyze. Subject A was a sexual addict and the thought of a girl coming to him was something his ego wouldn't ignore. He'd show up tonight and get his present.
"Clear!"
"Clear!"
"Clear!"
"Clear building captain!" the lieutenant of First squad called.
"Tank on the road!" a man shouted and the linked HUD in Sopot's helmet immediately tagged the hostile even though he couldn't see it. The red outline of a Type 100 tank appeared through the wall and floor as he rushed towards the window to see the tank bring its main cannon to bear on the building. Three men fired grenades which exploded harmlessly off its armor, a more enterprising man soon after tossed a Semtex plastic explosive onto the tank but it had the same effect. The turret continued to turn and it fired its napalm thrower into the bottom floor.
Sopot ducked instinctively and even though he had his grenade launcher ready, he couldn't bring himself out to defy the Russian tank and in fact he couldn't do anything but quiver helplessly and stare at one of the shot out computers that sparked and fried in front of him, there was nothing he could do but just sit there and quiver and he couldn't stop thinking about the flames and the tank and how he would eventually be consumed with flame along with his screaming men and women the tanks wouldn't stop there they'd continue shooting and killing and his men wouldn't be able to do anything but die and writhe in agony he was lucky he didn't get burned that first day but why was he thinking about that-
"Epee, Epee report."
Sopot shook himself out of it. "Epee here, all squads upright."
"pull back out of the building, we have Saber platoon with heavy weapons directly on the road south of you. They'll cover you."
"There's a fucking tank out there if you haven't noticed!" Sopot wondered why he screamed.
"Four of them, and if you stay there Captain Illych Sopot, you will be killed. Lead your troops out of there." Lancer cut the channel.
"All squads, we need to get back onto the street, Saber will cover us." He called to his platoon.
"How? Its three hundred meters from here to a good piece of cover!" the Italian lieutenant of Second squad shouted over the roar of a machine gun.
"Move!" Sopot barked.
"Sir! First squad on me!" Sopot thundered downstairs just in time to see the lieutenant signal one of his men to fire a grenade out the door. The flare lit up the street for a few blinding seconds, possibly enough to overload the Tanks thermal sights. Second squad dashed out the door.
The thunderclaps of several grenades going off died down and Sopot signaled for first and third squad to go. The looming barrel of the T-100 Ogre began its slow turn towards them.
A missile hissed overhead and struck the turret in a second blinding flash, Sopot turned to see a BMW minivan with its windows smashed out spin around and drive out, dark shapes inside were reloading the wire guided missile launcher. The driver of the car was excellent throwing the minivan that had probably driven children to local football games into a series of evasive weaves which the tank couldn't track. The cannon boomed once and a building a little to the right of where the van turned exploded in dust, showering Sopot and his platoon in the cloud. The men and women began a fire and movement pattern, with squads taking positions and turning to lay covering fire as the rest moved forward in a deadly leapfrog game.
The buzzing sound of a UCAV made Sopot look up, two missiles streaked out and finished off the tank clearing the way for Sopot and first platoon to retreat.
"Lancer, this is Epee, what's the situation?" Sopot asked breathless.
"They've pushed through the outer lines Epee, we need you to fall back to the Tango satellite uplink, the Russians have begun a massive uplink crash and if we lose them, we lose our coordination with European command."
Andreyev had selected his plan carefully, based on the opinions of his Spetsnaz captains he'd let his units infiltrate the outer lines as quickly and quietly as they could to disrupt and open lanes for his armored groups to enter the city. He had three major lanes opened on the Eastern side of Hanburg and he'd focused all of his armor groups there in a massive blitz that pulverized the foxholes that had disrupted his first attack. There were no civilians left besides a few of the civilian personel that worked the satellite uplinks. The office buildings were abandoned, the city fight would concentrate mostly on infantry which Andreyev was sure he would succeed with. After the initial breakthrough, a wave of Mi-82 heavy transport/gunships escorted by Howlers streaked in to land at predesignated sites to seize strategic points and uplinks. Resistance was now becoming heavier as the Enforcer troops sprang to life, it appeared that the tank reserves were located around the uplink sites, bad news for his Spetsnaz riflemen. Badger AFVs were giving his gunships a lot of trouble and his transports were beginning to wave off the landings to deploy their troops to safer areas. His forward tank units were now reporting the Enforcers were employing hit and run tactics using missile launchers and local vehicles.
No plan survived contact with the enemy Andreyev groused and hoped that the Euros weren't too serious about eliminating this city and its satellite uplinks, they might use one of their orbital lasers to do it and Andreyev didn't want to be around when that card was played.
"Got him." Secant one, Chavez said over the channel. "Yeah he's all divvied up. Looks nice, Italian suit, blue tie."
"So formal." Dolan groused and checked her makeup one last time. She'd chosen a very slutty dress, a brilliantly red tube of clothing that had cuts in the back that showed off her curves in a very suggestive way. She felt she looked nice. And the way she had her hair done framed her face the same way it had during Senior prom. It also covered the radio earphone. No one else of course could hear her because she didn't have a good place to hold her bead mike, but that didn't really matter she'd only be out of touch for a couple of hours.
It hadn't been hard to seduce the owner of the club either, to reserve a "special room" in the back that was soundproofed. Well, seduced wasn't really the right word, Dolan reflected. It was more about money although the fact that the owner of the club had eyes that shifted from her eyes to her breasts constantly boosted Dolan's self esteem. Thirty one and still packing, it seemed.
"Just walked through the door." Chavez noted.
"Show time." Dolan took a deep breath, tried on a beaming smile, then an impish one for size (adding that twisting index finger too) and stepped out onto the dance floor where the young people were doing what young people did. Zilich was sitting on a couch with a lovely looking girl on his lap and they seemed to be enjoying themselves. Zilich, still smiling caught Dolans eye and flicked them towards the bar. Dolan brushed her hair discreetly in response and walked over to Farrad- no he was Subject A.
She brushed her hand up his back and smiled as he turned. The man was fifty and definitely not Dolan's type his breath smelled even now and his taste in liquor was…poor. Wasn't he Muslim? What was he doing drinking?
"Darling!" she said in English, trying on some sort of accent for size.
"Miss." Subject A nodded and smiled, leaning forward and expecting something else. Dolan grimaced inwardly and kissed him. "I must say," Subject A said "you are very bold for such a young girl."
HA! Dolan thought and couldn't help but smile and brush her right thigh at that.
"I am young, I am alive, I am happy." She turned and signaled for a drink and reached for the small bowl of peanuts and dates. "And I am in love."
"In love you say?" Subject A smiled like he was forty years younger. "What makes you say that?"
"When I see you, I feel strange things like no one else before." Dolan giggled and covered her mouth in the way she had seen so many other floozy girls do. "I know I am in love here."
"May I ask you a question miss…"
"Maria Antonelli." Dolan let the man's mustache brush her offered hand.
"Italian?"
"Yes."
"Your accent is almost gone." The man sipped his drink and signaled for another.
"Gratzi," Dolan giggled again and stood up to the surprise of Subject A. she grabbed his hand and gestured with her free index finger trying the impish smile. Subject A read the message wrong immediately, gulping down his drink in one go and loosening his tie. Dolan lead Subject A across the dance floor where he let go of her hand and assumed Dolan wanted to dance. Dolan looked back and into his eyes, he was living in a fantasy there and therefore was very prone to suggestion. Dolan laughed out loud and reached for his hand again pulling him as she shook her head. He recognized the path now, toward the "quiet rooms" (which Dolan assumed didn't stay quiet for long).
"You are too bold!" Subject A laughed over the music, he was at the top of his game a new girl after the one he'd had the night before, he'd never felt better!
Dolan opened the room, leaving it dark but she knew the bed was there invitingly. Subject A groped her rear making her jump forward and almost blow her cover but she hid it and smiled.
"You are too bold as well." Dolan laughed back. "I believe you must be disciplined."
"Oh yes!" Subject A was through the door almost insultingly fast and was in the strong arms of Stuart and Peled a moment later.
"What is this?" he laughed not realizing in his drunken stupor that the hands on his arms weren't those of the female type.
"Mr. Farad" Clark flipped on the lights after Dolan shut the door. There was a M9 pistol in his hand, Dolan drew her more covert pistol, the Mossad issued "palm gun", from between her breasts and covered the Turkish defense worker.
"You are known to be a very good talker." Clark said as Stuart and Peled tied the man to the bed post. Now Subject A's eyes grew wide and sober. This was real, not some sexual deviance. Clark rolled up his sleeves to show the Navy SEALs tattoo on his forearm. "I happen to be a very good listener and I hear you have lots of stories you would like to tell us about Turkish interests in the Holy Land."