Suddenly, a commotion in the back of the room erupted.
“Get him!” someone shouted.
Nick looked up and saw a dozen analysts cheering in front of a big screen video monitor as if they were watching the Super Bowl. On the screen, a dark haired man in jeans and a long sleeve shirt ran through a backyard, being chased by another man wearing an FBI windbreaker. The view was from overhead and it resembled video that reality cop shows would film from a helicopter. The clarity on the screen was remarkable. Nick could tell that the dark haired man wore black high top sneakers. But they weren’t watching a shot from a helicopter; they were watching an image projected from a spy satellite hundreds of miles in space. Nick had heard stories of its capabilities, but when he saw the picture himself, he was amazed.
Walt Jackson was having a conversation on his headset. “Bring it in closer,” he said.
Nick thought if the image were any closer he could tell which brand of toothpaste the guy used.
Matt looked over his shoulder at Nick. “Recognize him?”
Nick squinted, trying to catch the face of the fleeing man. “Bali?”
“Uh huh.”
“Who’s Bali?” Riggs asked.
“Reyola Bali,” Nick answered. “He’s one of Kharrazi’s top soldiers. They call him the ‘Specialist.’”
“What’s so special about him?”
“Well, it’s common knowledge that everyone in Kharrazi’s organization uses a knife as their weapon of choice. Bali is one of the few who prefers a gun. He’s their premier sniper.”
Riggs pointed at the screen. “Do you think this agent chasing him knows that?”
Nick watched the chase, anxiously tapping his fist to his lips. He saw the face of the young FBI agent and it reminded him of himself his first couple of years with the Baltimore P.D.-brash, aggressive, too aggressive. As if the aggression could somehow make up for his lack of experience. The agent was running recklessly toward Bali, practically stumbling on every third step. Nick could feel the agent’s adrenal gland surging unnatural levels of hormones through his blood system.
Nick suddenly felt someone watching him. Riggs was staring at him, waiting for a response to his question. Nick considered how much an ordinary field agent would know about Bali. Finally, he looked away from the screen just long enough to make eye contact with Riggs and give him a grim shake of his head.
“Shit.” Riggs turned back toward the screen.
Nick watched the action on the satellite feed with a new sense of dread. Now Bali was hopping a block fence and running down a dirt alleyway. The young agent was fifty feet behind him. He was a little sloppier with the fence and landed awkwardly, but he immediately jumped to his feet and started gaining on Bali. The angle of the screen was so close that it was hard to see the terrain, or what was ahead of the two men.
“Where is this? Nick asked.
“Gary, Indiana,” Walt said, without removing his eyes from the screen.
“Where’s his backup?”
“It’s coming.”
The cheering in the War Room grew louder as the FBI agent drew nearer, sending shivers up Nick’s spine. Bali was quick, but he had to make decisions of direction that seemed to slow him up. The FBI agent appeared more familiar with the surroundings, and all he had to do was follow Bali.
Finally, a beam of swirling lights preceded the entrance of a local police car taking up the chase from the left portion of the screen. The buzz in the War Room grew intense with an ovation for the back up.
“Here comes the cavalry!” someone shouted.
Nick still tapped his lips with his fist, only his grip grew tighter.
The police car was spitting up dirt with its tires while fishtailing down a dirt alley, leaving a trail of sideswiped garbage cans in its wake. The driver slowed when he approached an intersection of alleys. As the car nosed its way into the intersection, Bali ran directly across the front bumper of the vehicle without even turning his head. The car backed up and attempted to turn down Bali’s alley. The FBI agent banged the hood of the car with his credentials as he fled past the vehicle. The turn was too sharp for the police car so the cruiser had to make several back and forth maneuvers, costing precious seconds before finally returning to the chase.
Suddenly, Bali made a wide right turn around the corner of a block fence. The width of the turn made it appear as if he was picking up speed, but the moment Bali felt the agent was out of sight, he darted straight right and crouched up against the fence for cover. The agent couldn’t see Bali double back, so he kept barreling forward. The entire War Room took a collective gasp. Someone yelled at the screen to look out. The agent couldn’t hear the pleas from the War Room, nor could he see the man pulling a gun from his belt in the back of his jeans. Like watching a motorboat speeding toward a hidden waterfall, Nick cringed at the sight.
The agent slowed slightly as he turned the corner, but he obviously expected Bali to be in a full sprint. By the time his momentum took him past the fence line it was too late. Bali was waiting for him, arms outstretched, gun trained on the man. The soundless picture added a creepy element to the inevitable shooting. The agent tried desperately to get down, but Bali was too quick. When the agent hit the ground he was already immobile. Bali moved closer. Someone shouted, “Let him be.” But Bali was ruthless. Even with the police car approaching, and maybe because the cruiser approached, Bali edged to within three feet of the fallen agent. He pointed his gun down at the man’s head.
Nick cupped his hand over his eyes. He heard the groans, first from the men around him, then from all four corners of the underground bunker.
Riggs slammed his fist onto the oak table and the War Room turned deathly still. The whir of the computers filled the silence as analysts found their way back to their desks, and their seemingly futile assignments.
Nick looked up in time to see Bali hopping over a fence. Eventually, Bali would be caught, or more likely, killed-but not until he took as many lives as possible; none more important to the agents in the War Room than the man who lay motionless on the ground. The police car finally reached the agent and the officer jumped from the vehicle and ran to the fallen agent. The satellite camera focused back on Bali who jerked open a side entrance door to a large office complex. Screeching police cars suddenly surrounded the building. It was only a matter of time, but Nick knew that nothing good would happen inside of that building. Bali killed one of their own. He would never be allowed to leave the structure alive.
Nick waited for Riggs to resume his questioning about the identity of his informant. Instead, Riggs placed a hand over his mouth and slowly rubbed, as if he was measuring the precise amount of stubble his face could sprout after pulling an all-nighter. He appraised everyone at the table, eventually settling on Nick.
“Payson, huh?” Riggs said. He circled the small town on the map with his pencil, then looked at Jackson. “Now, we can go in heavy or go in silent. Which do you think would be more effective?”
To his credit, Jackson blew by the informant issue at light speed, “With such a short window I think silent might be more effective. If we go bullying our way into such a small arena, the KSF will hear us coming and dig in. Maybe even detonate the missiles early.”
Riggs nodded his head. “That’s right. If they think they’re secure, they’re more likely to make a mistake. Maybe even get a little careless.”
The Chief of Staff seemed unable to restrain himself. “What are you talking about? Are you saying that we don’t send every available resource to that town immediately? That’s insane.”
Riggs did something that brought a huge grin to Matt McColm’s face. He turned to Jackson and continued the discussion unabated. “We send a small, tactical team of agents. Nick’s team. Have them work with the local Sheriff’s Department-with plainclothes.” He looked at his watch. “If we hustle we can get the team on the ground in five hours. That puts them there by three o’clock Pacific time, and gives them six hours to find Kharrazi’s headquarters.” He made straight lines across every road that passed through Payson. “In the meantime, set up roadblocks, here, here and here. If we don’t succeed in finding them tonight, then we can always have ground troops there by morning.”