Jaimie smiled at him. He was like that, worrying about everyone before, during, and after a mission. “Sergeant Major is going to be fine. I was wrong about him, Mack.”

“Let’s just hope you were.”

“No, this makes more sense. He would never have allowed anyone to compromise secret missions, but for the sake of his son, he’d definitely go a long way to protect the boy. Even then, he had to have known whoever this is running him is not against the United States, or he would have put a bullet in his own head. You know he would have. He counted on you—on all of us—to figure it out.”

“I was slow,” Mack said. “He’ll have a few things to say to me about that.”

Jaimie slid her laptop into the case. “Hopefully we’ll get to hear.” With a cheeky grin she opened the door of the van and exited, heading toward the coffee shop.

Mack moved into place, checking that each of his men was in the optimum location to follow Sergeant Major’s progress when he arrived and spot anyone tailing him.

Union Square was teeming with life, just as it was every evening. He had deliberately chosen the square because of the natural topography. The square was a giant sloping bowl shape. From the surrounding sidewalks and buildings anyone in the park could be seen. The concert stage and open-aired café provided easy places for his people to move in and out through the crowd to watch for anyone shadowing Sergeant Major.

The sky had already turned a purplish shade of blue, and shadows clung to the high, towering buildings, spilling gloomy silhouettes onto the streets and square below. The colored lights flashed stripes along the buildings and played over the grounds. The temperature dropped as it often did in San Francisco in early evening.

The wind picked up a bit, but not enough to discourage the people wandering through the Art in Motion exhibit. People portrayed famous paintings all around the square.

Sergeant Major on the move, boss, Gideon reported from his vantage point on the rooftops.

Watch for Javier. See if you can spot a tail. Mack felt his stomach settle. It had started. A chess match, and he was certain he had all the advantages. He believed in his team. They were good at what they did and this one was personal.

West end, Ethan reported. Two men. They exited a black Town Car just after Sergeant Major entered the square. They split up. One’s in a trench coat and dark glasses. The other is in jeans and a casual tee with a skull and crossbones. Tennis shoes. Dark hair, spiked. Didn’t make sense for them to be together.

I’ve spotted them, Gideon said. Skull-boy dropped in behind Sergeant Major. The other is out of my sight. He headed toward the art exhibit.

Where’s Javier? Mack asked.

I have him in sight, Top, Gideon reported. He’s in the middle of a group of kids talking and laughing. Sergeant Major is approaching the group, about a hundred yards out.

Watch him close. We don’t want anyone in the crowd making a move on him.

We’ve got a lot of civilians here, Mack said.

Javier’s closing in on the target, Gideon said. How the hell does he get those kids to accept him so fast? He’s moving through the crowd with a group of teens. I can barely tell him apart from the kids.

He learns the latest tricks on a skateboard, Kane answered. And he’s damn good at them. He loves that shit.

Here we go, Gideon said. Look alert. Second bogey coming toward Sergeant Major. He’s in a long trench coat, very James Bond with his cool sunglasses and black leather gloves. He’s moving through the crowd fast toward Griffen. Javier, he’s coming up on your left.

I can take him, boss, Javier assured, even as he laughed and shoved one of the kids he was walking with.

Your job is to get the earpiece in Sergeant Major’s pocket without anyone suspecting you, Mack pointed out. Killing him might be a dead giveaway that we’re going to take Griffen back. Just a thought, Javier.

You never let me have any fun, Top, Javier grumbled.

Everyone’s in place, boss, Kane said. So far, Sergeant Major hasn’t done anything out of the ordinary. Nothing will have raised a red flag yet. He hasn’t deviated at all from his routine so I doubt they’re doing anything but keeping an eye on him. It’s routine for them as well.

Javier’s making his move, boss, Gideon reported. He’s dropped his skateboard onto the ground and is showing off his tricks. Sergeant Major is still coming up on his left.

Mack focused his long-distance vision and watched as Javier did a series of tricks to the boisterous appreciation of the other teens. They were clapping, and several tried to emulate him. He wove in and out of the group and then around them. As Sergeant Major walked by without so much as slowing, it was impossible to see if they had even brushed up against each other.

Did you make the drop? Mack hissed between his teeth.

No faith, Top, Javier said as he and another boy competed to see who could catch more air. Another burst of applause drew attention to the teens. Not even a comment on my tricks. I worked on that one for hours. I really think I’m underappreciated. Now would be a good time to talk about making some more dough, bro.

Just don’t get killed. What else was there to say? No one could do what Javier did with his particular flair.

Mack honestly couldn’t tell Javier from the others. He looked as if he belonged with them and had known them for years. He had a jacket like theirs, a backpack, and the usual ball cap, headphones, and glasses. He looked like any other kid showing off.

Sergeant Major reached up, adjusted his glasses, and scratched his head. At once Mack heard his whisper in his ear.

“You know we’re under surveillance right now, don’t you,” Griffen snapped. “I’m trying to keep you from getting killed, Mack. This is insane. And where the hell are you?” As he spoke he covered his mouth, his eyes darting around as if to ferret out anyone watching them.

Mack sat on the edge of the stairs, obscured by a towering bush. “Just follow instructions, Sergeant Major. You’ve got two shadows. Maybe more. I don’t want you to acknowledge anything, or talk to me. Just do what I say.”

The sergeant major kept walking briskly through the crowd, out into the park, and slowed his pace as he walked in front of a framed “picture” of artist Frida Kahlo and her artist husband, Diego Rivera. He studied the two people posing. They stayed absolutely still, a replica of the actual painting. He turned to look at another picture and when he looked back, the two people were once again still, but they were in a slightly different pose. He frowned and walked back and forth, studying the frame from every angle, trying to remember exactly how they’d been posed before.

“They’re good,” Mack acknowledged. “They changed hand poses. Keep moving.

Slow, though. We need a chance to spot anyone tailing you. Take your time.”

Griffen gave the two performers a small salute and continued on his way, wandering through the live art. He was an imposing man and easy to keep an eye on.

Mack knew his shadows would hang back. The man in the trench coat ambled on the outer edges of the exhibit, although he did study the first picture for a long time just to make certain that small tribute the sergeant major had given them hadn’t been anything more.

Gideon, Javier said. Take a good look at the woman standing just by the first painting. Average height and weight. Short dark hair. Dressed like everyone else. She blends in. Gray jacket with hood. She’s sipping coffee and thumbing through the art info.

I got her.

I got a feeling about her. She got out of the way when my little group came hurtling through there. Smooth. Fast. Clean. Really clean, Gideon. She’s a plant. If not with them, then law enforcement. And she blends too well.

Mack smiled. Javier had a gift. If he said the woman had moved too smoothly, she had. He switched to watch the kid in action. The teens had congregated by the corner of the stage and were doing a mixture of tricks and dance moves. As always, Javier was in the middle of them. No one, not even Mack, could catch him looking at Sergeant Major. And most likely, after dropping the earpiece into Griffen’s pocket, he’d never so much as glanced at him. That wasn’t his job. His job was to spot the enemy.

I’ve got her, Javier, Gideon reported. If she moves when he does, I’ll let you know.

Right now, Bond-boy is keeping fairly close. I’m guessing Skull-boy takes over when he starts his walk to the coffee shop.

Ethan, seated on one of the benches, glanced at his watch, folded his newspaper, gathered up his briefcase, and began to walk out of the square toward the coffee shop.

He passed the woman Javier had pointed out without glancing at her. His cell phone rang and he stopped, a foot from her, and answered, spoke briefly with his back to her.

Send those pictures to Jaimie, Mack said. Did you get any of Bond-boy?

A couple, Top, but I’m not certain they’ll be good enough, Ethan answered.

Jaimie can do anything with her program, boss, Javier said. She’s a goddess.

Mack knew she could work magic with her computer, but this was so important.

In the end, all of their lives would depend on her skills. They had to know who was supporting Whitney and trying to kill Kane and Brian. They had to bring them out of the shadows and into the open where his team could take them down.

She is, Mack said, meaning it. He was lucky to have Jaimie, to know someone with her skills, let alone have her for his partner.

He watched Sergeant Major make the circuit around the live art show, admiring the various pictures. “Okay, do your usual brisk walk out of there. Get back to your usual routine. Head for the coffee shop like you always do. Get in line, order your favorite drink. Don’t sit down. I want you to stand in front of those three posters on the back wall and read them. Javier will be right next to you. Put your cell phone in the right pocket of your coat. Once he has your phone, don’t move. Take your time drinking your coffee. This is important, Sergeant Major. He’ll be sending the data to Jaimie. If they have a trace on that phone, she’ll find it and do a back-trace. They can’t know there’s anything wrong. They have to think you’re the one with the phone, not Javier.”

“But . . .”

“Keep walking. He’ll drop the cell back into your pocket. Paul will call you, a casual conversation, just follow his lead. This will work. They’ll record the conversation with Paul and we’ll get an address. And don’t talk to us, just go about your business, following the instructions. This is what I’m trained for. You’re covered all the way.”

Sergeant Major moved into the swarm of people on the sidewalk, heading downhill from the square. San Francisco was all hills. One either went up the hill or down it, but there were very few flat areas. It was good exercise and Griffen was big on utilizing the local terrain for his workout, rather than hitting the gym. Still, it was difficult to walk down the street in the open air, surrounded by tall buildings, where at any moment someone could put a bullet in his head.

I’m moving with him along the rooftops, boss, Gideon reported. I’ve got an open route. Lucas is running interference for me. Bond-boy is well ahead of him, almost at the coffee shop. Skull-boy is back about two blocks. They’re giving him plenty of room. Someone told them the old man has sharp eyes.

And the woman?

She hasn’t moved yet. She’s difficult to spot in the crowd.

Mack’s gut twisted. Marc, hang back and watch her. Don’t lose her. Stay up high and watch that woman.

Ten-four, boss.

Sergeant Major just got stopped. A woman appearing to ask directions. She’s handed him a map. She came up from his left. He has the piece in his right ear, Gideon reported.

Mack swore under his breath. Such an innocent thing. A tourist? There were several tense moments.

I’ve got her in my sights, give me the go, Gideon said.

I can go in for a closer look, boss, Javier said.

Not a good idea, Mack replied. Hold your position. You pass him too many times and they’ll notice you.