Page 36 of Into the Gray Zone

She grinned in the night, feeling the adrenaline course through her. She bounced up and down for a second, shaking her arms and rolling her neck. She stopped, now in the zone, and said, “Catch me if I fall?”

He smiled and said, “Of course.”

He turned around and put his back to the wall, his knees out at a ninety-degree angle, holding the pistol with one hand, his other held in the air like he was stopping traffic. She put her left foot on his knee, took his free hand in hers, then sprang up until she was standing on his shoulders. He stood, raising her into the air against the wall. He felt her tense up, push off, then the weight leave, and looked up, seeing her holding on to the scaffolding of the second-floor balcony.

Jennifer deadlifted her body up until she reached the top of the wooden rail, finding it six inches wide. Big enough for someone with her skills to sprint down it like a road. She stood up, seeing the third-floorbalcony above her, this time with no help to get to it. It would require a leap of faith, springing up to the lower carving. If she missed the hold, she’d have to land on the narrow beam or fall all the way back down.

She scuttled to the end overlooking the courtyard, then turned around. She gathered her courage, focused like a laser on the far wall where she’d plant her foot. She caught a shadow and saw a man in a bathrobe at the French doors, his belly hanging out from the open front. She felt a blast of panic, saw his hand on the door handle, and sprinted, launching into the air, planting her foot on the wall and springing upwards and back.

She turned in the air, snagged the lower beam of the third-floor balcony, and swung her legs up, cinching them on the beam. She froze, seeing the man exit onto the deck, scratching his belly. She hugged the beam like a barnacle, silently cursing under her breath and praying he wouldn’t look up.

Her radio came alive, “Koko, Koko, you okay? I have the guy on my front sight.”

She said nothing, snaking her hand to her earpiece and giving it a quick double click. She heard, “I copy. Stand by.”

The next thing she heard was a racket out on the lawn, near a trash pile rising to the level of the fence. The man heard it as well and turned, then went to the opposite corner of the balcony, leaning over and shouting something in Hindi.

Jennifer used the distraction to scramble up the railing, flipping over it to the floor of the balcony. She took a knee, trying to control her breathing. She said, “Blood, Blood, at breach. Thanks.”

She heard, “No problem. Circling around back to the launch point.”

She went to the French doors of the target room, pulling out a penlight and studying the lock. She withdrew a tension wrench and pick, and in thirty seconds she was through the lock. She said, “Breach, breach, breach, going in.”

“Roger all. Standing by.”

The space was a simple one-room affair, with a queen-sized bed and a wooden dresser. Nothing else, not even a television set. Off to one side was a bathroom the size of a closet holding a sink, toilet, and clawfoot tub, a cheap plastic shower curtain around it.

She paused for a moment, ensuring the place was empty, then flicked on the overhead light, seeing a suitcase on the floor, some dirty laundry next to it. She went to the suitcase and took pictures with a digital camera, then laid out everything on the floor, taking time to go through the pockets on the clothing. She found a small notebook and flipped it open, a passport photo of a man falling out. She took photos of each page with writing on it, all of it in Hindi Devanagari script, then took a picture of the photo. She laid both next to the clothing, and then recorded it all again on her camera.

She replaced everything in the suitcase, utilizing the photos on her camera to ensure she left the clothing next to the suitcase just like she’d found it, then went to the dresser, opening every drawer but finding them empty. She entered the bathroom, seeing nothing but a toothbrush and some toiletries. She took pictures anyway. She was pulling open the shower curtain when she heard a scrape at the door.

A key going into the lock.

Uh oh.

She threw her camera into her fanny pack and jumped into the tub, closing the shower curtain. She began breathing through an open mouth, trying to stifle the noise.

She got on the net, whispering, “Blood, Blood, compromise. I say again, compromise.”

She heard, “Status?”

“I’m hiding right now, but there’s a seventy percent chance they’ll find me. If they do, I’m coming out hot.”

“Roger all. Standing by.”

She peeked through a gap in the curtain and saw four Asian men come into the room, all in suits. They began to rapidly search it, cleaning all exposed surfaces and shoving everything on the floor into the suitcase. One man went to the dresser, repeating Jennifer’s search but finding nothing of interest. Another sprayed the likely areas of contact with a bottle and wiped them down like he was polishing wood.

Jennifer prayed they’d want to get out before scrubbing the entire place down. A man entered the bathroom and she held her breath. She heard him slide all of the toiletries on the counter into a bag, then flush the toilet.

Bad sign.

If he was that dedicated in eliminating traces of the occupant, she was going to be found. She crouched, getting ready. She heard him spray from the bottle on the sink and begin wiping. When the noise stopped, she balled her fists.

She heard nothing for a moment, just waiting behind the curtain. Waiting to explode. She saw the shadow of a hand beyond the curtain, a blurry thing. She saw the fingers curl around the edge of the curtain and tensed on her back foot, cocking her hip. The curtain slid open and an Asian man appeared, his focus on the tub. He saw her feet, looked up, and his mouth dropped open. She pivoted with her hips, driving the punch with her legs, just like Pike had drilled into her, and slammed her fist into his face with all of her weight behind it.

His nose flattened with a spray of blood, his head snapped back, and he dropped like he’d been axed in the head, his skull bouncing off the sink as he collapsed. She leapt out, shouting into her earpiece, “On the move! On the move!”

And sprinted into the room.

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