Page 73 of Rising Tiger

Kicking the door in, or better yet, blowing it off its hinges, would have allowed her to be fast and efficient, but would have negated the “quiet” part of her plan. She was going to have to pick the lock.

She made her way to just outside the apartment door, stopped, and listened. Glancing down at the tablet, she could see exactly where the man inside was positioned—at a table of some sort near one of the windows, overlooking her building across the street.

Allowing her H&K to hang from the sling across her body, she pulled out her picks, crouched down in front of the lock, and got to work.

As she carefully inserted the thin pick, along with the tension wrench, she took great pains not to make any noise. She was concerned that even the slightest sound of metal scratching against metal would tip off the man inside.

So far, there had been no noise whatsoever. That made it quite unsettling when Raj said over the radio, “Freeze.”

She did as he ordered, wondering what the hell was going on.

“Get out of there. Now.”

Withdrawing her picks, she shoved them into a pocket, stood with her back against the wall, and readied her weapon as she whispered, “What’s going on?”

“They’re all converging on your location. Theyknowyou’re there.”

“How?” she wondered aloud, zooming out on the tablet, seeing exactly what Raj saw on his screen.

“There must be a camera somewhere in your vicinity. You need to get out of there. Do it now.”

A camera? Damn it. She had purposefully kept her eyes open for cameras. But the technology had miniaturized them to such a degree that she could have missed one—or several. In fact, she could have been staring right into one as she worked on picking the lock and had not even known it.Damn it,she repeated to herself.

With the need to be quiet gone, and the element of surprise lost, all she had left was speed and efficiency.

“I’m going in,” she radioed.

“Absolutely not. I’m telling you, for the last time, get the hell out of there. That’s an order.”

Technically, Raj was correct. It was an order. But it wasn’t one with which she was going to comply. This was the only lead they had, and she would be damned if they were going to lose it.

Freeing up her left hand, she pulled a flashbang from her chest rig, removed the pin, and, stepping in front of the door, slammed it open and tossed the device inside.

When it detonated, she charged in behind it.

She swept her weapon from side to side, making sure—despite what the tech equipment had shown her—that there was no one else present.

The only person she saw was the man by the window. He was disoriented. Near his left foot was a pistol that he must have dropped. Asha wasted no time.

Letting her submachine gun swing on its sling, she transitioned to her Taser and fired, hitting the man with both barbed probes, dead center in his chest.

As he rode the lightning, his musculature seized up and he fell, groaning, to the ground.

She kicked his pistol across the floor, pulled out a pair of restraints, and zip-tied his hands behind his back before he could recover. Then she secured his ankles and, stripping away a lamp cord, bound all the restraints together so he couldn’t move beyond rocking on his belly from side to side.

“They’re coming up the stairs,” said Raj, more concerned at this moment with her safety than the fact that she had disobeyed his order.

Asha looked at the tablet. “Confirmed. I see them.” Four men were coming up the nearest stairwell, while two more were headed up the other at the far end of the corridor.

She scanned the apartment next door, which was empty. She also noticed something else—the units were mirrors of each other and shared the same Achilles’ heel.

India in general, and New Delhi in specific, were plagued with substandard construction. Building inspectors were often bribed, or planswere submitted, only to be trimmed back and changed after occupancy permits were submitted. Apartments were frequently, and illegally, sliced in half, doubling a landlord’s potential rental income.

When this happened, it was all about doing it on the cheap. There was no point in bricking over a narrow hallway when drywall could be used. And a narrow hallway, enclosed in drywall, made two halfway decent closets.

Grabbing a piece of decorative fabric draped over the couch, Asha gagged her prisoner and headed for the closet.

Once there, she didn’t bother pulling the clothes out. Yanking out the rod, she let everything fall to the ground. Then, raising her H&K, she fired a barrage of suppressed rounds into the gypsum board.

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