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Frank Prescott and David Gorridge walked from the terrorist checkpoint building outside of Ismailly to the downtown area where they spotted the blue rental truck parked outside a hotel in the town’s business district. They nonchalantly walked up the street toward the truck and as they got near it, Frank went up to it to see if it was locked. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted one of Abdula’s men standing about twenty feet away, around the corner of a nearby building, smoking a cigarette. Frank started whistling and pretended to be combing his hair in the reflection from the truck’s side door window. The terrorist looked at him watchfully but figured he was harmless. Frank and David continued to walk past the truck and away from the terrorist.
They soon heard some loud music coming from a nearby building and walked over to check it out. When they went into the building that appeared to be hotel bar, they found it filled with local people, tourists, and soldiers who were having a good time drinking and dancing. A live band was playing on a stage, with a light show, and some dancing girls off to the side of the bar.
“Wow, what a hot nightclub,” David said.
“Yeah, who would’ve figured?” Frank said.
“I’m going to go over and check out the band for a minute,” David said hoping that maybe he’ll get a chance to play a song with the band.
“Wait a minute, tiger, you’ll have plenty of time for that later,” Frank said as he stopped him, “Let’s split up and walk around to see if we could spot our boys, and if you do see them, come and get me.”
Frank and David walked in separate directions around the noisy and smoke filled club. Frank cursed the ventilation system or lack of and ordered himself a soda as he scanned the people around the large bar. He soon bought drinks for two attractive women who were sitting at the bar and quickly went into character, acting like he is drunk and having a good time. David saw him doing this from across the room and just shook his head.
David walked from the front bar area into an adjoining backroom that was lined wall to wall with tables full of partyers. Then through the haze of cigarette smoke, David soon saw two men seated at a table in the back of the room. He easily recognized Abdula from the picture taken from the predator and the CIA file photo. Soon, two scantily clad, women came over to Abdula’s table where he already had drinks waiting for them. It wasn’t more than a few minutes before the two terrorists and the women started walking up a rear stairway to the second floor. David followed behind and watched them as they paired up and went into separate rooms. He hurried back into the bar area of the club to find Frank, and when he did, he pointed upward to indicate that they went upstairs. Frank pointed toward the front door of the club and then told the girls to watch his drink and that he’ll be right back.
When they get outside the club, David said “They found two women and took them to some rooms upstairs.”
Frank looked across the street and saw that the third terrorist was still guarding the rental truck. He and David walked around a corner of the building where they couldn’t be seen and Frank pulled out his cell phone.
“Jack, one of the terrorists is watching the truck while the other two are getting laid, I don’t think it would be much of a problem to take this guy out and steal the truck.”
“Sorry, Frank, that would be too risky. I know you could do it, but then they’ll be chasing after us before we get a chance to move the cesium to the save area. Let’s just lay low, wait for Henry to set up, and we’ll take them at the shipping port.
“You’re the boss,” Frank said.
Hoskins could sense that Frank was getting impatient.
“If I thought that the cargo was in jeopardy, I’d let you take it. But these people know what they’re hauling and it looks like they’re not taking any chances with it. All we have to do is sit tight and wait for the right moment. We’re in control of the situation now, but we won’t be if we have the terrorists, the local police, and some crazy ass militia chasing our asses around Azerbaijan.”
“You’re right, Jack, we’re on our way back.”
As Frank and David started walking back to the RV, David said, “Do you have any mint gum? I’d hate to have Jack think I was being derelict.”
“Relax, you did good out here, its all part of the job. Every minute that we’re out here we risk our lives, and if you don’t do something to blend in, you won’t survive. Jack understands that and so does your boss back home.”
“Thanks, Frank.”
In the CIA RV, Hoskins asked Leslie, “What time will we need to refuel the predator?”
Leslie looked at the fuel gauge on the console that read eighty percent, and then she entered some commands into the computer that calculated the predator’s current airspeed and the expected weather conditions over the next twenty four hours and came up with an answer, “Approximately 2:15 P.M. tomorrow.”
“Could you land the predator at night?” Hoskins asked.
“Sure, piece of cake.”
“Bring it down anytime you want between now and sunlight tomorrow, we should fuel it up at night so that we could keep it in the air all day long. We can’t do anything that’ll risk losing that rental truck.”
On the video monitors, the predator’s cameras were still trained on the homing device that Frank planted on the truck. One monitor had a dim close up of the truck that was just barely distinguishable only because it was parked near a streetlight. Leslie turned on another monitor and typed some commands on the keyboard and a light labeled ‘Night Vision’ came on next to another monitor. The monitor again showed the outline of the rental truck, but in front of the truck, the infrared imaging showed a small dot that increased in intensity and brightness each time the lone terrorist, who was guarding the blue rental truck, took a drag on his cigarette.
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