The airport was light on travelers for a Saturday evening, which would make it easier for Trent Turner to spot anything out of the ordinary. Heckler put Etzy Millar in contact with technology assets at The Shop before they headed to the airport, and under the circumstances, the fact that someone else knew their itinerary made the operative a bit uneasy. He used a kit at the townhouse to create a new driver’s license for Millar, and the hacker was now Jerry Rask, someone with the same birth date and age to make things easier. The Shop had made sure everything would check out when his ID was scanned into the airport’s computer systems.
“Okay, Etzy, are you ready for this?”
“Yeah, I think so.”
“Do you remember the signals for the cameras?”
“Yeah, you’ll be like a third-base coach.”
Turner laughed. “I’ll try to be a little more discreet than that. We don’t want the cameras to scan our faces, or we might end up having some company.”
“Are you sure they have facial recognition?”
“These days they can recognize people by their walk.”
“So let me get this straight,” he said, pulling his baseball cap down. “I go first, and if I get searched at the checkpoint, you’ll be behind me or mess with your stuff until I’m clear, and if you get searched I should keep going toward the gate but find a place to wait for you so you can point out the cameras.”
“That’s right. If I’m searched, remember to keep your head down until we link up.” Turner put a firm hand on Millar’s shoulder to calm him. “Just take it easy. It’ll be fine. Remember what I told you about being anonymous. It works. You can become invisible.”
“What about the bag?”
Turner winked. The hacker’s smile told him he’d finally put it together.
“Bagman. I get it.”
Turner dropped Millar off at the departures area and drove to short-term parking. Less than five minutes had passed when Turner casually strolled past him and led them to the ticket kiosks. He made sure the machine spit out the hacker’s plane ticket after he scanned in his new driver’s license.
They headed toward the security checkpoint. The operative used the reflections in the massive windows to make sure they were in the clear and that Etzy recognized his signals. He stopped to adjust his bag so the hacker could go through the security-checkpoint line first, as planned. Both men emptied their bags and placed their electronic devices, jackets, belts, and shoes into plastic containers. Turner was concerned with the amount of cameras that canvased the checkpoint area and hoped Millar would do a good job of keeping his head down.
The fact that Francis “Etzy” Millar’s name had been kept out of the headlines made their trip through the airport easier, but there was a bigger problem brewing, based on Cannibal’s latest report. It had revealed that the top man at the FBI had been purposely holding back information about his presence at the murder scene. Millar was already nervous enough, so the development wasn’t something that Turner wanted to share just yet.
He overtook Millar on their way to the gate so he could identify the cameras. He took the seat with the best vantage point when they arrived at the gate, and Millar sat across from him without making eye contact. The slog through the cameras was over. Now it was time for the nerve-racking part. Turner stood and placed a newspaper on his seat.
“Excuse me,” he said to the elderly woman sitting next to him.
“Yes?”
He gave her a warm smile and said, “I’ll be right back. Could you please make sure the plane doesn’t leave without me?”
“Of course.” She laughed, before her expression changed to one of concern. “Don’t you fly much?”
“No, ma’am. I try to keep my feet on the ground.”
She smiled. “They don’t wait for anyone these days, so it’s best for you to hurry back.”
Turner bowed his head in thanks and grabbed his bag before heading down the corridor to take care of business.
Chapter 48
Every couple of steps he felt a push to hurry him along. Dennis Zander was walking as slowly as he could, and his Russian chaperone was clearly getting annoyed. They were headed toward South Halsted Street, where he assumed the Bratva soldier’s car was parked, when he had an idea. It was crazy, desperate even, but he wasn’t exactly drowning in options.
Zander looked up at the Russian and said, “Hey, can we take care of my car really quick? I don’t want it to get towed.” He didn’t even own a car, but he hoped the Bratva man wouldn’t know that.
The Russian ignored him.
“Look, man, if it gets towed, I’ll be up shit’s creek. I’ve got a bunch of unpaid parking tickets, and I don’t want this to turn into a mess. The cops might put me on the radar and start asking around, you know. They’re real assholes at the place I park it, so things could get ugly.”
He watched the Bratva soldier’s face as he considered the request. Zander knew that back in Russia the police had no problem making life miserable for less, so he hoped the soldier would want to stay clear of any kind of police involvement.
“Okay, but I will go with you,” he said.
“Sure, you can help smooth things over.” He couldn’t help but smile. “It’s this way.”
Zander directed them across the street and headed for the building on the corner.
“It’s parked out back,” he said. “Hopefully they won’t be too pissed off. They can get a little testy in this place.”
Not much had changed at the New Generations Lounge since his unceremonious exit. There were now two men sitting at the bar instead of three. The third, Dwayne, was being attended to by his waitress girlfriend behind the bar. Nobody turned around at the sound of the door chime, so Zander walked straight to the bar.
The Bratva soldier had stopped a few feet short and quickly became engrossed in the Miami Vice episode that was on the television. Zander made it all the way to the bar and still no one had bothered to acknowledge his presence. He knew Dwayne’s fuse would burn fast, and he planned to take advantage of it. A chase scene was blaring on the television, so the hacker kept his volume low enough so the Russian wouldn’t be able to hear.
“Hey. Hey, Dwaynie boy,” he goaded. His smart-assed tone drew scowls from the couple behind the bar, and he motioned his thumb back indicating the Russian. “My buddy here has no problem taking care of your pussy ass for me.” He looked over at the two men sitting on stools with half-full pint glasses in front of them. He could feel the tension rise the moment he engaged them, and decided the more the merrier. “He said he’ll take out your asshole friends too. You might want to let him finish watching his TV program, though, or you’ll really piss him off.”
“Your ass is fucking dead!” Dwayne yelled.
Zander backed up enough to position the Russian between them and feigned a look of surprise. He looked to the soldier and said, “I think they’re a little upset about the car.”
Dwayne’s face reddened as he began to charge from behind the bar. The other men jumped up from their stools and waited for their friend to take the first shot. Dwayne didn’t have a chance. The Russian was lightning quick and landed a blow that shattered his nose and sent him straight to the ground.
His friends began to charge the former Spetsnaz soldier, and Zander took the opportunity to make a break for the door. His forward progress stopped suddenly. He felt the straps of his backpack pulling him backward and tried to shake loose, but the soldier was too strong. He was ripped back violently, but the Russian’s sudden change in attention provided the opportunity the other men needed. The two who had been sitting at the bar tackled the soldier to the ground, and the trio landed with a sickening thud.