It was James Hicks’s kind of town.
Grand Central reminded him of why he still did this kind of work. It reminded him of the importance of it and such reminders kept him alive. Because losing focus in his line of work would get him killed.
Hicks got off the escalator and entered the stream of people heading toward the Lexington Avenue entrance when he spotted the man who would ruin the rest of his day.
The man who might make his career.
There was nothing particularly remarkable about the man in question. He was neither good looking nor tall. Well dressed or shabby. He was just another unremarkable man of medium complexion and appearance, not all that different than the thousands of other people who pass through the terminal every single day.
People didn’t notice this man because they weren’t trained to spot him. But Hicks was. He knew this man was known by many names in many parts of the globe, but the one that stuck longest was Khan, He was one of the deadliest men alive and he was twenty feet away from him walking through Grand Central Terminal.
Hicks forgot all about coffee and his appointment in an hour and began following Khan. He noticed he was wearing a t-shirt and jeans, but wasn’t carrying a backpack or anything that might have a high-yield kill ratio. He was probably carrying a handgun, but that was to be expected.
Hicks had a.22 holstered in his waistband, but his most valuable weapon at that moment was his smartphone.
Khan’s common appearance had made it difficult for authorities all over the world to capture him. He could pass for Arab, Latin, Israeli, Italian or any of the Baltic nations. The fact that he could easily slip into any of those languages made it even more difficult to spot him. He had no tattoos or particular habits that might trip him up and lead to his capture.
The only reason Hicks knew this man was Khan was because Hicks had seen him once. It had been five years ago when Hicks had been part of a team assigned to wipe out a terrorist cell in Kandahar. It was the kind of black bag op that didn’t make breaking news and no one made movies about. The kind of op that never officially happened. The kind of op men like Hicks spent their lives doing.
Hicks had been wounded in the assault, but saw one terrorist escape in the melee; clambering up a concrete wall of the compound. Hicks’s gun had skidded just out of reach when he fell and the fleeing terrorist spotted him just as he’d reached the top of the wall.
He’d brought his AK-47 around and gauged the distance between them. Shooting the American would be worth it if he could kill him, but taking the shot could cost him his life if he missed. So the two men simply stared at each other – studying each other for what seemed like hours but, in reality was only seconds – until the ops team burst into the yard. By the time Hicks looked back to the top of the wall, the terrorist was gone, but his face was burned into his memory.
In the years following that night, he’d seen that face in intelligence bulletins from all over the world. He saw that face in the terminal now. Ahmed Khan.
He wondered why Khan hadn’t pulled the trigger. Hicks wondered if he himself would’ve taken the shot had his gun been closer. He thought he knew, but thinking and knowing were two different things.
Given Khan’s common appearance, Hicks knew he’d need official confirmation that this man was actually Khan before he killed him. Hence, the smartphone being his most important weapon at the moment.
Hicks walked quickly through the thick crowd, keeping his distance from Khan as he tried to get a decent enough angle to get at least a profile picture of the man. The terminal was always full of people taking pictures at all times of the day, so one more wouldn’t necessarily alert Khan.
But if Khan spotted him – and recognized him – the crowded train station could become a slaughterhouse.
Smartphone in hand, Hicks walked around a group of commuters trudging to work and made like he was taking a picture of the painted ceiling high above the concourse, but snapped a picture of Khan instead. If the terror leader knew his picture had been taken, he didn’t show it. Hicks watched Khan move well past him before he followed.
On the surface, Hicks’s device looked and acted like any other smartphone on the market. He could make calls, surf the web, even download popular apps.
But tapping on one particular app activated the personal camera on his phone, which quietly scanned his face and retina. Once his identity was proven, Hicks was prompted to enter another, longer passcode, which allowed him access to the most secure – and secret – wireless network in the world.
As he followed Khan, a simple screen opened on his phone offering a sparse menu of options. He selected ‘Identification’, which prompted him to select a file to upload. He selected the picture he’d just taken of Khan. It usually took the face recognition software a minute or two before it identified a subject. Since Khan was one of the highest priority targets in the world, a section chief – maybe even the Dean himself – would be notified directly. Hicks would then receive one of three plain orders on his phone:
Cease and desist.
Investigate and report.
Terminate.
Hicks waited for one of these three orders to come in as he followed Khan down to the lower part of the terminal. He didn’t waste time trying to figure out where Khan was going or why. He just watched his target and waited for orders.
As soon as they got to the lower level, Hicks knew why Khan had gone there.
He went into the men’s room.
Hicks didn’t need to follow him in there because there was only one way in and one way out. Since they were underground, there were no windows or other doorways Khan could use to escape. Following him in there could only lead to disaster and Hicks needed to avoid trouble until his orders came through. He drifted over to one of the food vendors instead where he could keep an eye on the bathroom exit while blending in with the dozens of other people lining up to buy lunch.
He felt his phone buzz, but he didn’t check it right away. He didn’t want to miss Khan coming out of the bathroom. Besides, he knew the considerable resources of the University were probably already coming on line.
Hicks’s device had a GPS beacon that the University would use to pinpoint his position to within a foot of where he was standing, even here below ground. They knew exactly where he was standing at that moment and would figure out why he was there. A sweep team was probably already on their way to the terminal for any devices Khan may have planted. But Hicks doubted he’d planted anything because Khan wasn’t the type who liked to watch his own fireworks anymore. These days, he planned attacks, preferring to not get his hands dirty by carrying them out.
He watched Khan come out of the bathroom, patting his hands dry on the front of his t-shirt. It was nice to know that even terrorists washed their hands. He walked past Hicks and up the ramp that led back to the upper level and the street.
Hicks followed at a safe distance and stole a quick look at his device. The text message was as simple as he’d expected:
Target confirmed. Terminate immediately. Varsity en route.
‘Varsity’ was the University term for a back-up team that would support Hicks when he was ready to kill Khan and clean up right after. They’d be able to track his location
But he’d have to stay on Khan’s trail. He pocketed the phone and kept following Khan as he walked up the ramp and took a right. Hicks sped up to close the distance between them. He had to know if Khan was heading toward the subway, which would make it much harder to follow him, or if he was going out toward Forty-Second Street.