Certain Jeopardy by Jeff Struecker, Alton Gansky Page B
Authors: Jeff Struecker, Alton Gansky
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chair. Being pregnant was hard work. She could grow tired just sitting around. This was her time to rest. With the children at school these quiet hours were her sanctuary.
She moved her hands over her basketball-size belly. In another three months “baby within,” as Jose called his daughter, would become “baby out and about.” Lucy took rest when she could get it—there would be precious little of it soon.
Another kick, this one to Lucy’s bladder.
Another pain … and another. Something within her tightened. A small moan escaped her lips. Her skin oozed perspiration.
“Oh, God,” Lucy prayed.
CHAPTER 18
THE U.S. EMBA SSY IN Venezuela would have been a perfect place to meet if it weren’t under constant surveillance. The 100,000-square-foot building sat on the side of one of the Andean foothills. The five-story brown building contained a room encased in steel walls that could be used for meeting and planning, but Moyer didn’t have that luxury. His mission was as covert as they come. If captured, the State Department would deny any connection with his team.
Instead, he and the others found a rundown bar near the center of the city. The place was large, dingy, and had colored film pasted to the windows like a poor man’s stained glass. The pub catered to unsuspecting foreigners. The price of beer was a third higher than what he and J.J. paid in the upscale hotel bar the previous night.
“Nice tourist trap.” Shaq took a seat at a long table near the back.
“More like a roach trap.” Caraway wrinkled his nose.
“I didn’t know you were such a sensitive spirit.” Moyer sat at the middle of his team, allowing him to keep his voice down and still be heard.
“Sensitive? Me?” Caraway laughed. “I just like my beer and food to be free of insects.”
“Protein is protein,” J.J. said.
“Put a sock in it, guys.” Moyer paused long enough to make eye contact with each man. “We’re here for a reason and we’re going to drink beer and eat chicken wings and act like we’re enjoying every moment of it. Clear?”
The others nodded.
“Good.” Moyer looked at Caraway. “You comfortable?”
Caraway pulled a small, black electronic device from his shirt pocket and gave it a glance. The small device looked very much like an MP3 player but could detect hidden microphones in the 1 MHz to 6.5 GHz range. “Can’t do a full sweep, of course. That’d be a tad obvious. But the mini-sweeper says we’re good.” He dropped the device back into his pocket.
Moyer gave an approving nod. The device wasn’t foolproof but provided enough reassurance for Moyer to continue. “We begin tonight. We stay low-vis on this, so we’ll be keeping hardware to a minimum.” His team nodded. The quickest way to attract attention was to shoulder an M4 automatic rifle. “Martin, bring what you need for the job. We’re going to need eyes and ears. I surveyed the equipment and it’s all nonmilitary issue.”
“Nothing to tie us to our origins,” Caraway said.
“Exactly.” Moyer stopped as a waitress cleared empty mugs of cerveza from the table and replaced them. J.J.’s mug was still full. When the waitress left, Moyer continued. “We go in full team tonight. Once we have the lay of the land, we’ll split into teams for round-the-clock recon. We stay in the same teams we arrived in country with. I know I don’t need to say this, but I will: This is an urban recon, so the odds of someone spotting us are much higher than parachuting into some desolate backwater and hiking in.”
“That’s been bugging me,” J.J. said. “These camps—places— are usually away from population centers unless they’re in a friendly country. There’s miles of jungle around here; why set up in the industrial area of a major city?”
Moyer pursed his lips. He didn’t have an answer for that one. “It doesn’t matter. Intel said that’s where they are and so that’s where we go. My best guess is they’re getting
She moved her hands over her basketball-size belly. In another three months “baby within,” as Jose called his daughter, would become “baby out and about.” Lucy took rest when she could get it—there would be precious little of it soon.
Another kick, this one to Lucy’s bladder.
Another pain … and another. Something within her tightened. A small moan escaped her lips. Her skin oozed perspiration.
“Oh, God,” Lucy prayed.
CHAPTER 18
THE U.S. EMBA SSY IN Venezuela would have been a perfect place to meet if it weren’t under constant surveillance. The 100,000-square-foot building sat on the side of one of the Andean foothills. The five-story brown building contained a room encased in steel walls that could be used for meeting and planning, but Moyer didn’t have that luxury. His mission was as covert as they come. If captured, the State Department would deny any connection with his team.
Instead, he and the others found a rundown bar near the center of the city. The place was large, dingy, and had colored film pasted to the windows like a poor man’s stained glass. The pub catered to unsuspecting foreigners. The price of beer was a third higher than what he and J.J. paid in the upscale hotel bar the previous night.
“Nice tourist trap.” Shaq took a seat at a long table near the back.
“More like a roach trap.” Caraway wrinkled his nose.
“I didn’t know you were such a sensitive spirit.” Moyer sat at the middle of his team, allowing him to keep his voice down and still be heard.
“Sensitive? Me?” Caraway laughed. “I just like my beer and food to be free of insects.”
“Protein is protein,” J.J. said.
“Put a sock in it, guys.” Moyer paused long enough to make eye contact with each man. “We’re here for a reason and we’re going to drink beer and eat chicken wings and act like we’re enjoying every moment of it. Clear?”
The others nodded.
“Good.” Moyer looked at Caraway. “You comfortable?”
Caraway pulled a small, black electronic device from his shirt pocket and gave it a glance. The small device looked very much like an MP3 player but could detect hidden microphones in the 1 MHz to 6.5 GHz range. “Can’t do a full sweep, of course. That’d be a tad obvious. But the mini-sweeper says we’re good.” He dropped the device back into his pocket.
Moyer gave an approving nod. The device wasn’t foolproof but provided enough reassurance for Moyer to continue. “We begin tonight. We stay low-vis on this, so we’ll be keeping hardware to a minimum.” His team nodded. The quickest way to attract attention was to shoulder an M4 automatic rifle. “Martin, bring what you need for the job. We’re going to need eyes and ears. I surveyed the equipment and it’s all nonmilitary issue.”
“Nothing to tie us to our origins,” Caraway said.
“Exactly.” Moyer stopped as a waitress cleared empty mugs of cerveza from the table and replaced them. J.J.’s mug was still full. When the waitress left, Moyer continued. “We go in full team tonight. Once we have the lay of the land, we’ll split into teams for round-the-clock recon. We stay in the same teams we arrived in country with. I know I don’t need to say this, but I will: This is an urban recon, so the odds of someone spotting us are much higher than parachuting into some desolate backwater and hiking in.”
“That’s been bugging me,” J.J. said. “These camps—places— are usually away from population centers unless they’re in a friendly country. There’s miles of jungle around here; why set up in the industrial area of a major city?”
Moyer pursed his lips. He didn’t have an answer for that one. “It doesn’t matter. Intel said that’s where they are and so that’s where we go. My best guess is they’re getting
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