The Special Agent Jana Baker Spy-Thriller Series

On the Move

21

On the Move

Across the street in the coffeehouse, Stone focused his attention on the front doors of the sprawling Petrolsoft building.

“You know we’ve got eight pairs of eyes trained on that building right now?” Agent Fry said. “Every exit is covered. Don’t worry, we’re going to see her when she walks out.”

“I know,” Stone said, “but our surveillance teams are not as familiar with her as I am. I could spot her a mile away.”

“You taking a liking to young Miss Baker?”

“It’s not like that. She’s a kid. Twenty-two years old. More like a daughter.”

“Come on, Stone. You know better than to allow yourself to become attached to a material witness. It could be dangerous.”

Stone’s eyes never left the doorway across the street as he scanned the throngs of humanity exiting the building at the close of Friday’s business day. “It’s not dangerous, it’s smart. And it isn’t something that I can control, at any rate. She’s a great young woman and I don’t want to see her get hurt. The fact that I’m so worried about her only increases her safety.” He straightened up in his chair. “That’s her. Navy blue skirt, double-breasted suit jacket.”

Fry squinted in the direction of the doors. “Are you sure?”

But Stone was unabated and raised a radio to speak. “Squad two, squad two, this is Stone. Subject on the move. North entrance. She’s accompanied by our target. Heading south on Madison Avenue.”

“Roger that,” came the terse reply. “We’re on it. Mobile four, mobile five, keep your distance, but don’t lose eye contact.”

Stone, Fry, and the members of surveillance squad two leapt into action and walked out into the stream of people flooding the sidewalks of Madison Avenue.

Fry said, “Check the tracker. You picking up the ping?”

Stone looked at his phone and opened the FBI’s secure tracking application. “Yeah, I’ve got her. She’s about fifty yards ahead of us. Dammit, I’ve lost visual though. Do you see her?”

“Relax,” Fry said, as the two walked as fast as they could without drawing suspicion. “We’ve got two mobile units right behind her, and two out in front guessing which way she’ll walk. She’s in good hands.”

“I’m not going to relax until I get her away from that thug. I swear to God, Fry, if he puts one hand on her . . .”

“I know, Chuck, I know. But like I said, she’s a big girl and can apparently handle herself.”

Several minutes later, Jana and Jeffrey Dima turned on W. Twenty-Sixth Street.

“s**t,” Stone said, “they turned. The two mobile units walking out in front of her are now out of position.”

“Would you calm down?” Agent Fry said as he put a hand on Stone’s shoulder. “You know as well as I do that that’s what happens. Any surveillance units out in front will generally get out of position at one time or another because they can’t predict which way the subject is going to go.” Fry pushed against a hidden ear piece and spoke into the mic tucked inside his shirt collar. “Mobile one and three, you’re out of the lane. Subjects now headed west on Twenty-Sixth. Hightail it through Madison Square Park until you come out at the intersection of Fifth Avenue at Twenty-Sixth. If you hurry, you’ll be just ahead of them.”

The two young surveillance specialists, one a male, the other a female, broke into a sprint, weaving in between people on the sidewalk, then turned into the park to try to run ahead of Jana.

The radio cracked to life. “Six, six? This is mobile four. We’ve lost visual! I repeat, we’ve lost visual.”