Page 55 of Cade

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

Sgt. Fredrick Haecker watched as the man walked off the airplane. He looked haggard and tired, his shirt wrinkled from the long flight. Haecker smiled to himself. The General had given him permission to buy a first-class ticket, so he slept, ate, and rested up. Hausman did not have it so good.

Picking up his luggage from the carousel, he fought through the security lines, nearly arguing with the passport official on his reason for business. Haecker just grinned to himself, knowing what would be awaiting the man. As he waited in the taxi lines, he noticed another man approach him, an older man.

He quickly snapped a photo and sent it to his contact with the American team that landed several hours before. He wasn’t sure how they’d beat them there, but he knew they were friendly. He was just glad to be out of the office and doing something exciting.

The taxis began to weave through the traffic, nearly hitting one another several times. He pulled a ball cap down over his eyes, trying to look disinterested in the vehicle beside him. The two men appeared to be arguing, the older one waving something in the younger man’s face. The taxi driver seemed to care little for what was happening, continuing in the direction he was told.

“Don’t lose them,” said the German. His own driver nodded, following the other vehicle. The oppressive humidity soaked his skin, mimicking the claustrophobic traffic. It took nearly an hour to get to the outskirts of town to a less populated, although still seriously congested area.

His taxi driver slowed, pointing up ahead. The other taxi was driving down a dock, looking as though it might not stop. Just before the water, he slammed on the brakes. The two men got out, the younger one handing the driver some cash.

He backed up on the dock nearly as fast as he arrived, turning, and racing away. Haecker got out of the taxi and handed his driver a wad of bills.

“Stay here,” he said. “If there is gunfire, call the police.” The man frowned at him but nodded, staring at the roll of cash. If he was willing to risk his life, then he could hide in the taxi for another roll like this.

Haecker sent a text, immediately receiving a reply. He looked around, not seeing anyone else, then felt something hit his head. A pebble. Looking around again, he felt his phone vibrate and looked down.

Up

He looked up, seeing five faces staring down at him. Grinning, he nodded, going between the buildings and taking the fire escape to the roof.

“Hello,” he said calmly. “I am Sgt. Fredrick Haecker.”

“We know, brother,” smiled Luke. “Thank you for doing this. Great job. Any idea who the other man is?”

“No, it was just an old man that approached him,” he said to the other man.

“I think I know,” said Eagle, staring through the binoculars. “Pitre. It’s fucking Pitre, and they’re not happy with one another at all.”

“Shit,” muttered Luke. “Did they plan to meet here?”

“No clue,” said Haecker. “I only followed the younger one. The man in Somalia does not like him at all. He said he was a coward and had proof.”

Luke frowned, looking back down the docks toward the two men arguing. A black sedan pulled up, and a man exited the vehicle, forcing Hausman and Pitre to stop their bickering.

“We have to get closer,” said Cade. Luke nodded.

“Cade, Bodhi, Frank, and Parker move on the ground to the far side of the building on the east. Gabriel, Rory, Dom, and CC, get to the building on the far west side. The rest of us move slowly between the buildings toward the dock. Eagle, Hawk, Joseph, Nathan, and Kiel, sniper rifles at the ready.”

The men moved with such precision and silence, Haecker was unsure if his job was done or if he would be included in the chase. Eric handed him a weapon, gripping his shoulder.

“Stay behind me, don’t shoot me or anyone here. Cover me, if necessary,” he said to the younger man.

“Yes, sir.” Eric just shook his head, smirking. Now he knew how the old guys felt. Ivan watched the younger men moving and decided he would get a closer look at the situation from the roof through binoculars. His sons were safe for now, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t help.

“Jesus,” he muttered.

“What?” asked Cam. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s not someone from Malaysia. It’s the fucking second in charge of the North Korean army.”

“Son-of-a-bitch and monkey tits,” murmured Cam. “Seung Kim.”

“Let the old dudes back home know,” said Eric. “We have to stop this.”

---