A Murder of Crows (34 page)

“Understood. I’ll advise my people. Hold on.” The line went quiet as Rahul spoke to his team.

Hicks used the time to do some advance work on his own. He tried to access the security cameras at the port, but the firewall was surprisingly complicated. He knew OMNI could eventually hack it, but it would take a few minutes. Close to when Shaban’s train would arrive in the station.

In the meantime, he directed OMNI to access the train station’s camera feeds. The hack was accomplished in a matter of seconds. The cameras appeared to be ancient, maybe as far back as the early part of the new century. He couldn’t zoom in effectively and the cameras couldn’t pan back and forth the way more modern systems could. The images were low definition, but OMNI was able to boost them to give a bit more quality.

He scanned the train platform, which was mostly empty except for a few travelers milling around waiting for the train to arrive. He activated OMNI’s facial recognition system, which began analyzing each face in frame. None of the people on the platform appeared to be on any known watch lists anywhere in the world.

And none of them were Arap.
Maybe he was still on the ship after all?

Hicks toggled over to the station’s interior cameras to see who might be milling around inside. A few men were obviously cab drivers, clustered together, sipping coffee while they talked. They were all doughy men whose bodies had begun to sag from so many hours spent behind the wheel and eating vending machine junk food while waiting for fares at the station. OMNI scanned them as well, but they came up negative. One had a local warrant for lack of child support payments, but Hicks kept looking.

Hicks toggled to the security cameras outside the station. Several cars had already lined up along the curb, undoubtedly ready to pick up various passengers coming off the train. OMNI automatically scanned the faces of all the drivers and all the license plates in camera range.

The system pinged when it stopped on one face in particular. OMNI had made a match between a face in one of the cars and someone already in the network.

The ping came from a driver in the third car from the front of the line. An old blue Ford Escort with deep dents along the hood and side. The front bumper looked like it had been replaced as an afterthought.

OMNI pinged because it had come back with a fifty-four percent match between the driver of the Escort and the most current photo they had on Arap.

Hicks tried to zoom in on the driver for a better look but remembered the station’s ancient camera system was one of the old static types.

Shaban’s train was seven minutes out.

To Rahul, Hicks said, “I have a nearly positive match on Arap from the cameras outside the station.”

“Shit. He must’ve gotten off the ship before my men got there. Where is he?”

“He’s in a blue Ford Escort outside the train station.” He checked OMNI’s search on the license plate. “The plate is registered to an Econoline van. He must’ve swiped the plates and put them on the Ford. You need to get B Team over to the station now.”

“Hold on.”

Hicks watched Arap’s blurry image on the security camera feed. He toggled over to the tactical screen and had the OMNI satellite focus down on Arap’s Ford. Given the current angle of the satellite’s orbit, all he could see was the rusted top of the Escort’s roof. All he could see was the driver’s hands on the steering wheel.

And those hands disappeared from view and a new window opened on Hicks’ operations screen:
TARGET PHONE IN USE.

OMNI had detected Shaban had finally turned on his phone and was making a phone call to a number OMNI didn’t have in its system. Most likely a burner phone Arap was using.

The call went through and Shaban and the other man began speaking to each other in Farsi. OMNI performed a live English translation of the conversation. The computerized voice of the female Trustee repeated the words as they appeared on Hicks’ screen:

Subject One:
My train is almost at the station.

Subject Two:
I am on my way. I will meet you at the car park across the street from the station.

The call ended.

Hicks told Rahul, “He’s lying about being at the car park across the street. The son of a bitch is parked right in front of the station. Get your people on both ends of the road to the station. If something happens, I want the area shut down and both suspects contained.”

“I’m roughly five minutes away,” Rahul said. “B-Team is en route. Standby.”

Hicks toggled back to the satellite view of the station. He pulled back and watched the blue icon showing Rahul’s van making its way along the highway to the station. Given traffic conditions and traffic light frequencies, Rahul looked to be about ten minutes out.

The red B-Team icon was approaching the north end of the station. To Rahul, Hicks said, “B-Team is on site, but tell them hang back. I don’t want Arap to smell a trap and take off.”

“I’ll let them know.”

Hicks felt the adrenalin kick in big time. Even on a video feed from thousands of miles away, the rush of the hunt was real.

A black icon showing Shaban’s phone and computer appeared less than a minute away from the station as the train rolled in to the security camera’s frame.

Hicks checked the exterior camera again. Arap hadn’t moved. He hadn’t gotten out of the Ford. He looked like any other driver waiting for a passenger to arrive at the station.

OMNI’s satellite image showed Rahul’s was still at least five minutes out but closing in. “How we doing on time, Ace?”

Rahul’s mic muffled as the image from his glasses became unsteady. “B-Team is already in a supportive position at the car park across the street from the station. They are out of Arap’s line of sight but will fan out once the train arrives. Three of us are now on foot running toward the station. My driver will provide backup with the van once he gets closer.”

Hicks’ screen showed the frame moving as Rahul ran toward the station. “Make sure you’re not running in a pack. I don’t want Arap or Shaban…”

“This isn’t my first op for fuck’s sake. We’re in a scattered formation. One of my people ran ahead with a bag like he’s trying to catch the train.”

Hicks saw the scene from thousands of miles away unfolding before him on his screens. It was all rushing together again and he felt himself gripping his armrests once more. This time, he didn’t stop.

H
ICKS WATCHED
Shaban’s train pull into the station.

Hicks split his screen between the exterior camera and the platform camera.

The doors opened and a few weary passengers shuffled off the train. Some pulled wheeled luggage behind them while others lugged heavy shoulder bags. They paused on the platform and looked around for signs pointing toward the exit.

Shaban stepped off the last car of the train. His black ski cap was pulled lower on his head than when he’d been on the street. He slung his backpack onto his right shoulder as he headed up the stairs to the overpass. Two people Hicks recognized as Rahul’s cover team—a tall dark-skinned man and a much shorter, lighter-skinned woman with a black ponytail—went up the stairs behind him at a reasonable distance. Close enough to see Shaban, but not closer than any of the other passengers.

Hicks toggled one screen to the station waiting room while keeping the other locked on OMNI’s satellite view of the exterior of the station. Arap still hadn’t moved, but now he could see exhaust coming from the back of the car.

He checked the other screen for Rahul’s icon. He was on foot and making good time, but still half a block away. He was getting closer, but still wasn’t close enough.

Shaban came into frame on the station’s waiting room camera as he came down the steps from the overpass. The cluster of taxi drivers spread out as potential customers streamed down the stairs into the station building. There was no audio on the station feed, but the drivers were obviously asking if anyone needed a taxi.

Shaban walked past the milling crowd with his head down. Rahul’s cover team came into frame just as Shaban reached the front doors of the station building.

Hicks switched to OMNI’s satellite feed from above the station. The automatic front doors of the station building opened and closed as people went to waiting cars or followed drivers to their taxis.

He watched Shaban move through the crowd at the station entrance, but stopped when he spotted the Escort, as if surprised to see Arap was there.
Of course he’s surprised. Arap told him he was in the car parked across the street.

Shaban bent low to look inside and offered a tentative waive to the driver.

Hicks saw Shaban’s body twitch as bullets fired from inside the Ford began striking him in the face and chest. From thousands of miles above the Earth, Hicks watched the silent impact of each shot passing through his body and shattering the glass doors behind him.

The satellite feed may not have audio, but Hicks could practically hear the gunfire and the screams of the passengers as they scattered amidst the sudden violence.

From over three thousand miles away, Hicks watched his entire op turn to shit. And there wasn’t a goddamned thing he could do about it.

Hicks heard Rahul curse as the images from his glasses became even harder to see as he broke into a flat out run. He knew the gunfire had kicked the agent into high gear.

Hicks relayed what he saw on his screen. “Shaban is down. Shooter is in a blue Ford Escort and armed.”

It was easy for Hicks to spot Rahul’s operatives on the OMNI satellite feed from above. They were the only people running toward the Ford while the rest of the people were running away from it. He saw the members of B Team trying to close in on Arap, but they were buffeted by the panicked crowd of humanity stampeding away from the gunfire.

Arap threw the Ford into drive and veered left, crunching into the rear bumper of the car parked in front of him. He put the car in reverse and crashed into the front fender of the car behind him. The impacts from both collisions had damaged his car, but had also cleared enough space for him to pull away clean.

Via the visual from Rahul’s glasses, Hicks could see Rahul had turned the corner of the station building as Arap worked his car free.

Hicks heard Rahul yell at Arap as the Ford swerved wildly for the exit. A cab trying to flee the melee accidentally t-boned the Ford on the driver’s side. The Escort’s airbags deployed as Arap scrambled out of the car through the open passenger window.

Rahul and his partner ran up the roadway as Arap scrambled to his feet. Hicks heard Rahul shout a warning at Arap as the shooter brought up his weapon. Hicks saw the semi-automatic’s slide of Arap’s gun was locked back.

The gun was empty.

Hicks screamed into his microphone. “He’s empty! Don’t shoot! Take him alive! Don’t shoot! Don’t…”

But Rahul and his partner had been too well trained. An armed man was about to point a firearm at them. They both fired on the Iranian as Hicks shouted his warnings.

From the feed of Rahul’s glasses, Hicks saw Arap’s body buck with the impacts of multiple rounds striking his head and chest. The son of a bitch was dead before he hit the roadway.

Hicks yelled and ripped off the headset, throwing it onto the desk.

The one and only lead he had to Jabbar was lying dead outside an English train station.