Clark kept out of sight on the west side of the road, opposite Suparman’s, cutting through a wooded lot that ran behind a row of ramshackle shops that made up a sort of Third World — looking strip mall. It was dark, and he was able to use the shadows of a large guava tree directly across from the gaming company offices as cover.
A waist-high concrete block wall, whitewashed to match the Suparman building, ran the length of the property in front, ending in a sliding metal gate at the north end. Behind the gate, piles of gravel and concrete block marked an area of new construction to an open carport below what would be more offices. The face of the primarily glass building with bright white eaves and roof stood out in stark contrast to the surrounding greenery. This wall of windows made it easy for Clark to see the guards in the lobby, but would also leave him visible on approach.
The plans Gavin found online had not been labeled, but it was a safe bet that Suparman’s office would be on the second floor in the southeast corner. Indonesia was a veritable sauna, making showering multiple times a day a national pastime. There were three washrooms in the building, but the architect’s drawing of the one that adjoined the office in the southeast corner was plumbed for an American-style toilet, bidet, and a palatial shower. The reinforced walls indicated that the vault was in that office as well.
Clark had still not been able to figure out how Suparman’s men had gotten to Ding. He must have done something to make them suspicious at the storefront. If it had been local police, or drug dealers, or even spur-of-the-moment kidnappers looking to make a quick buck ransoming a rich American, Clark could have gotten his head wrapped around it. But Suparman? He couldn’t have known what they were up to. Ackerman was dead. Noonan was presumed dead — though this was not certain. There could be a link here… Clark shook off that idea. Noonan wouldn’t know Ding Chavez from Adam. Chinese intelligence was supposedly involved, but he doubted they knew the gaming company had a copy of Calliope — not yet, anyway.
That left Ding’s visit to the storefront… It made no sense at all, and yet here they were.
Clark’s orders were to grab the tech at all costs. He hated that term. “At all costs” sounded great when you were a young punk operative — a license to kill, real 007 shit. The rules of engagement were relaxed to the point of being nearly nonexistent. But in reality, “at all costs” meant “at the cost of everything,” even your team members. Make it happen or die in the attempt. There had been a time when Clark was gung ho enough to do just that, but he wasn’t going there now. They’d all die together or they’d all come home.
Jack Junior came over the radio — Midas had rekeyed the encryption when they’d linked up at the Blessing Jesus statue, so Ding’s radio was now unable to listen in.
“Copy,” Clark said.
Dom was with Jack, but Adara and Midas responded as well.
Clark took a PVS-14 night-vision monocular to peer at the grounds across the street. No patrols, but he located the exterior cameras over the door and at each corner of the building. The guard in the lobby, maybe thirty years old from the looks of him, was still alone, playing a game on his phone. He talked to someone on his radio every now and again.
Clark looked right and left, up and down the dark street. No lights, no signs of bicycles or pedestrians. He trotted across the street, moving diagonally to reach a small princess palm tree. It was skinny and only about twice his height but provided a vertical object for him to stand beside. As long as he was still, a casual glance out the window might not draw attention. Maybe. In any case, he didn’t intend to be there long.
“
“Weapons?” Clark asked.
“My guy’s talking on the radio,” Clark said. “Are they?”
“Hold there!” Clark said. “We’ll all go in at once. Adara, Midas?”
