Nighthawk (NUMA Files 14)

She climbed behind the wheel as Jian took the passenger’s seat. After a precarious three-point turn, she got the truck moving back toward La Jalca.

The poor truck never topped twenty miles an hour going uphill, but once they were out on the flat top of the plateau, it picked up speed until they were traveling close to forty.

Daiyu checked the time. Instead of reaching La Jalca at midnight, they’d be there by dusk. They might just catch the Americans after all.

29

Cajamarca, Peru

The streets of Cajamarca were cold and wet. A brief spell of rain had left mud in the gutters and puddles everywhere. Rain in the mountains was always a cold rain. The damp got into the bones. Paul and Gamay would have preferred snow.

Walking along the sidewalk, Paul pulled his coat around him and flipped up his collar. “I think someone is following us,” he whispered.

“The guy in the colorful poncho,” Gamay said. “I’ve seen him three times since leaving the airport.”

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p; It might have been a good way to blend, as many of the natives of Cajamarca wore similar ponchos in the cold months, but the pattern was unique and Paul and Gamay both had an eye for fashion.

Catching sight of the man in the reflection of a store window, Paul nodded. The pattern was the same; the fur-lined boots were the same. The man was the same.

“What do you say we get off the main street,” he suggested.

“If it means somewhere warm . . .”

“How about this place,” Paul said, pointing to a brightly painted Internet café.

Gamay read the sign. “Strong java, stronger Internet, 4K video. Let’s go.”

They stepped inside, watched through the glass as the man passed by and saw him return a moment later. Instead of coming in, he sat at the bus stop across the road, apparently content to watch.

Paul was fine with that. He and Gamay moved deeper into the narrow building. Thankful for the warmth, as much as anything.

The café was busy, the coffee, computers and young people creating a perpetual buzz. They found a spot with access to both the front and back doors, logged on to a computer and spent a few minutes browsing.

“Do you think our friend is going to sneak in anytime soon?” Paul asked.

“Doubt it,” Gamay said, “but we’ll see him if he does.”

“In that case, I’m going to make a phone call.”

He stepped away from the desk, found a ladder to the roof and climbed it. Popping out through a trapdoor, Paul climbed onto the roof and lowered the door gently behind him. He wasn’t looking to escape; he just needed a clear view of the sky.

After linking up to the NUMA communications system, Paul was patched through to Hiram Yaeger. He got right to the point. “Kurt needs you and Priya to hack into the NSA’s database.”

Of all the staff at NUMA, Hiram Yaeger was the least afraid to flout authority—it was half the reason he kept his hair long and wore decidedly non-corporate clothes to work. But he was surprised to hear this request from one of NUMA’s most buttoned-down officers. “Who are you?” he asked. “And what have you done with Paul?”

“Very funny,” Paul replied. “I’m serious. Kurt has reason to believe they’re hiding something regarding the Nighthawk and its mission. Good reason. And since he’s the one out there risking his life—”

He must have been on speakerphone because Priya chimed in. “I’m not an expert in such matters, but isn’t that frowned upon . . . or perhaps illegal?”

“It’s not exactly encouraged,” Hiram admitted. “But we’ve done it before and never really gotten more than a slap on the wrist.”

“Apparently, the NSA is more forgiving than their reputation suggests,” she replied.

“Preventing a worldwide catastrophe with the information we borrowed might have had something to do with that,” Paul said.

“I have no problem with this,” Hiram said. “You know that. But we have been warned. Maybe I should run it by Rudi or Dirk.”