Hunter (32 page)

"Firstly, Alex, perhaps you could start us off and give us the headlines regarding the Wolf's escape from the United States. Then I'll take you both through the interrogation of Lorenc Gjoka, which gave us the location of Drago's hideout, recently confirmed by the Predator, thanks to the efforts of our chaps out there."

"Well, the short version is that in those last moments in Seattle, Petrovic and I had what I can only describe as an extremely short-lived exchange of gunfire across the street. Regrettably, Petrovic escaped by car." The frustration Morgan felt was palpable. His fists clenched in unison and his jaw was tight. "In the confusion of the situation around Judge Clancy's house and subsequently through the streets of Sunset Hill, SWAT responded to the first man they saw in the vicinity waving around a gun: me. In the time we lost resolving the fact that I was one of the good guys, our ability to rapidly redeploy police resources to find Petrovic evaporated and, as we've come to expect, he disappeared."

"I guess, like I said on the plane, bud, the cops had no choice," said Sutherland. "They see a well-dressed guy running through their streets with a gun when they've got an APB out for a well-dressed guy running through their streets with a gun, what are they going to do?"

"Yeah, I know, Dave," replied Morgan. "I would have done the same thing in their shoes. And, you know, it made no difference that we resolved it in less than thirty seconds once they found my ID. Pet-rovic was already a ghost. Two days later his hire car was found abandoned a mile from Judge Clancy's house. He'd obviously stashed it early on, then either got himself a new set of wheels or jumped on public transport and skipped town."

"So, where did he go, boss?" asked Sutherland. "And how do we now know that both he and Drago are together at this house?" He gestured toward the screen.

"We believe Petrovic made his way north into Canada," said Davenport. "Then, no doubt with an identity change, he escaped North America, most likely out of Vancouver or Calgary. As for his current whereabouts ..."

General Davenport took the agents through the key aspects of the Interpol internal affairs interrogation of Gjoka. Faced with a string of serious criminal charges and the prospect of his remaining years spent behind bars, Gjoka was ready to bargain from the time they sat down. According to the general, who had observed the entire interrogation process via live video feed to his office in London, information literally hemorrhaged from Gjoka.

"There is no loyalty among thieves and killers," the general noted wryly. "Gjoka would have given up his own mother just to shave a few minutes of a sentence or to push for a minimum security prison anywhere other than southern Europe. Of course, there were no deals on offer, then or now. Still, he gave up contacts, 
radio frequencies and codes, processes used to confirm meetings, cell-phone numbers, dead-letter boxes, details on the
Zmajevi
foot soldiers who guard Drago at his residence, Drago's son; the list goes on. So, while we all share your frustration over the Wolf's escape from North America, Alex, you can rest assured that the cumulative effect of your endeavors to date on this operation, including the assistance of Ms Haddad and Messrs Braunschweiger and Sutherland, has brought us closer than we have ever been to finally taking Drago down; with the bonus of also having identified a Serb enforcer who has remained at large for over fifteen years. I have absolute confidence that the two of you will bring this matter to its appropriate conclusion tonight."

Morgan and Sutherland nodded their acknowledgment that success tonight was critical: nothing was going to get in the way of that.

"But what's most important for our purposes," the general continued, "is that the Interpol interrogators managed to extract the location of Drago's secret hideaway."

Davenport directed their attention to a screen behind him displaying a map reference in southern Serbia, specifically the mountains due east of the city of Vranje, south of Lake Vlasinsko.

"This, gentlemen, is your objective," he said gravely, pointing at the map. He then indicated two other screens, one playing a video loop captured in daylight by the Predator UAV thirty-six hours earlier, and another playing an infra red video loop of the same location taken at night twenty hours earlier. "This is Drago Obrenovic's villa. He calls it
Zmajeva Pe
cina—the
Dragon's Cave. He is there now and the Wolf is expected to arrive at 1 Opm this evening."

The general paused, allowing the agents to study the images now of such significance to them.

"It appears that the Dragon's Cave is serviced by workers from the nearby village of Bozica. The village has a population of around 300. Apparently, due to cell phone network coverage in the area being negligible at the best of times, cell phone sales to the good people of Bozica would not have been a necessarily lucrative business. As a result, according to Gjoka, for many years Drago was completely reliant upon VHF and UHF radio comms with his immediate people, mostly to the north in the city of Nig. However, he'd been fed up with that arrangement for some time and recently managed to coerce local authorities to install cell phone towers in the center of Bozica. Made them an offer they couldn't refuse, I expect. Needless to say, at this moment, 99 per cent of the traffic to or from those towers is associated with Dragon's Cave. So, we've spent most of the last three days targeting the cell phone and radio frequencies in and around BoEca. Sure enough, Gjoka's claim that the Wolf would make contact with Drago to arrange their routine fortnightly meeting proved to be true."

"And that's happening tonight?" asked Morgan, knowing already but still barely able to believe it.

"Confirmed," the general replied, "by voice recognition software."

"What are we expecting of this meeting?" Sutherland asked. "Correct me if I'm wrong, boss, but isn't this Wolf character likely to kill Drago now that their plan to destroy the ICTY has gone to shit? I mean, from 
the beginning this has been about a hostile takeover."

"That's exactly what we're expecting, David," answered Davenport. "Which is why we must exploit this opportunity and recover them both, as soon as we can get you two on the ground."

Davenport checked the iPad he was briefing from as a young woman in a NATO pilot's flight suit entered.

"Excuse me, general," she said with an Eastern European accent. "The second aircraft has arrived. We'll be ready to take off in fifteen minutes."

"Excellent, Colonel Rodanski. Thank you very much."

As she left, with Morgan's and Sutherland's eyes following her all the way out of the trailer, Davenport wrapped up their briefing.

"Right, Alex, this has been your investigation, so you'll lead the insertion and recovery; and, David, I know you're itching to try out the new gear, so I want you to take care of the extraction arrangements." He walked over and handed Morgan the iPad. "Detailed aerial surveillance video, along with maps and stills of Dragon's Cave have been loaded onto this iPad to assist you with your onboard preparation. Go and get kitted up immediately. Develop your final plans once you're airborne; and, David, I know you've worked through it already with Alex, but make sure you're absolutely clear on employing the Fulton surface-to-air recovery system before you hit the ground. Once you get to the extraction point, you won't have time to be giving lessons."

"I can't believe I let you talk me into this, you know, Dave," said Morgan. "I thought the Key was crazy with the whole garbage disposal chute down the side of the building trick in Albania, but this extraction plan of yours has got knobs on it!"

Morgan had just been up with the pilots going over the final details of the insertion while Sutherland stayed down in the fuselage doing the equipment checks.

"Hey, don't blame me, man!" Sutherland replied jovially. "Take it up with the chief. It was his idea." "Bullshit," said Morgan, incredulous.

"Seriously. He did it years ago, during his SAS days. When I told him US Special Forces were planning to re-introduce it and I'd just completed trials with them, he loved the idea."

"He's as crazy as you are." Morgan laughed. "Makes sense though. If we want to get these guys out of the country without any chance of interference on the ground, there's no better way."

"You got that right, bud," Sutherland replied, securing a final strap on an equipment platform with the NATO loadmaster, who would also be their dispatcher when the time came. "You want to go over the jump now?"

"Yeah, Dave, this is the way it will go," Morgan began. "We'll make the jump at 25 000 feet. That'll 
keep us around the same height as most commercial airliners, so we won't look out of place on anyone's radar. We'll deploy 15 miles from the target and fly in under canopy all the way to the drop zone. I've already programmed the GPS units on our command panel with the exact location of the DZ; a clearing on the edge of the Dragon's Cave. The Predator UAV will maintain visual on the DZ until we're on the ground. They'll keep us advised of any hostiles when we're on approach. Good so far?"

Sutherland nodded, his attention focused intently on the iPad images and maps Morgan was briefing from.

"We'll fly in a stack, 20 feet up, 20 feet back. I'll lead and you'll follow me in. Once the Predator confirms the DZ is secure and we're on the ground, we'll do a comms check. From there we'll move straight into the recovery phase."

Again, Sutherland acknowledged.

"Half an hour before jump time, we'll mask up, attach to the aircraft's oxygen console and pre-breath pure oxygen for thirty minutes. Three minutes out, we'll disconnect from the console and transfer to the oxygen tanks on our gear. The pilot will let me know when we're close. Once that ramp's down and the green light's on, we're out the door."

Minutes away from the green light the two agents stood shoulder to shoulder, ready to jump.

Each man was cocooned in standard covert insertion gear: helmet, night-vision goggles, high-altitude oxygen supply, Raider Hi-Glide high-altitude/high-opening parachutes, wrist-mounted altimeters, as well as a navigation command panel with GPS and compass fitted to their chests. In addition, each carried two multiband inter/intra team radios - one set to VHF for internal comms with each other, the other providing the crucial UHF link back to the aircraft and the Intrepid ops room, including the Predator operators, back in Germany. Their SIG Sauer P226 sidearms and Heckler & Koch MP5 SD sub-machine guns were strapped to the remaining available space.

When they'd concluded their checks of each other's gear, the NATO dispatcher stepped forward and began to lower the ramp. Buried beneath helmets, NVGs and oxygen masks, the two agents exchanged good luck nods and punched each other's fists as Mor-gan's radio buzzed in his ear. It was the pilot, Colonel Rodanski.

"One minute," said Morgan over the VHF internal comms. He held up a finger.

"Roger that, bud," came Sutherland's reply.

The ramp split like the jaws of Hellmouth, yawning open in front of them, presenting unequivocally the 
stark reality of what they were about to do. The huge black void of space beckoned. There was no turning back now. Each man knew that the next 2 hours of his life were likely to be the most intense he'd ever experienced and each was glad to have the other in his corner. There were no guarantees; there never were. But they knew they had to try.

The green light blazed and Alex Morgan disappeared into the night sky. Sutherland instantly followed.

Out in the icy darkness, the insertion underway, the agents soared from the aircraft, racing through the mental checklist for the seconds and minutes ahead. The high-altitude, high-opening - HAHO - jump required perfectly timed deployment of the parachute. If they didn't deploy their 'chutes within three to seven seconds of leaving the aircraft, the combination of low air pressure and rapid descent would disintegrate the canopy. And if that happened at this height, you needed to have your shit together.

They both went out hard, but Morgan, so full of the task ahead, realized he had his head down too far. In the crucial first seconds of his descent, he'd become unstable, fighting against his own body position, air pressure and velocity. The rush was incredible but he couldn't prolong it. Morgan lost critical seconds he couldn't afford but then, in a microsecond, he was there, his body stabilized. His right hand shot to the ripcord and, with a wrenching forward motion, he punched out. The canopy deployed with a massive crack and Morgan felt the whiplash snap through every joint in his body, from toes to neck.

"Jesus, man! You OK?" It was Sutherland via his headset. "That looked rough."

"Tell me about it," Morgan replied breathlessly. "Came out too steep. All good now."

"Roger, bud," Sutherland replied. He'd been there. He knew exactly what it felt like.

The Intrepid agents set to flying under canopy for 15 miles overland toward their target. They maneuvered into position to form a stack; Morgan in front with Sutherland 20 feet up and 20 back from him. They'd jumped out over the south-eastern corner of Serbia, north of the border with Macedonia, with the winds on their backs, flying due north. For ten minutes the agents flew in silence, expertly manipulating the toggles to steer their parachutes toward the target. Through their NVGs they could make out some of the prominent buildings and landmarks they'd identified via map reconnaissance to ensure they kept on track in the event that the GPS units failed and to assist them in getting ready for landing. It was unlikely that the gear would fail, but knowledge of the terrain around any target was invaluable, particularly if the extraction plan was compromised and they needed to resort to escape and evasion.
Live by your wits!
as General Davenport would say.
Prepare for success without the technology.
Morgan could almost hear the boss now.

In minutes they would be above the objective: Drago's secret hideaway, the Dragon's Cave.

Their headsets buzzed with activity.

"Alpha Mike, this is Predator, over."

"Predator, this is Alpha Mike, go ahead," answered Morgan.

"This is Predator. DZ is green. I say again, DZ is green. You are GO for mission insertion."

"Roger, Predator," replied Morgan mechanically. "Any sign of the second package?"

"Negative, Alpha Mike. You're ahead of schedule. Second package is due in five minutes. Will advise when we have visual on approach. Good luck."

"Thank you, Predator. Alpha Mike, out." Morgan switched to the VHF internal radio so he could talk only to Sutherland. "Dave, those lights on our right are Baica," he said. "We're about a mile from the drop zone. Standby."

Sutherland acknowledged and they each prepared for landing.