Sleeper's Run

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

Bolívar Square lies at the heart of the historical area of Bogotá, surrounded by an array of eclectic architecture: to the south, the classically inspired National Capitol, housing the Congress; to the east, the colonial style Primary Cathedral, seat of the Archbishop; to the west, the French-fashioned Liévano building for the city's mayor; and to the north, the contrasting modern Palace of Justice.

Nathan Blake sits among a group of elderly chess players. The old man across from him is in deep concentration while enjoying his pipe. The man to his left seems to be playing by himself. A few passersby stop to watch the games for a bit. Blake's good eye roams across the board as he contemplates possible moves; his glass eye sits disturbingly still. The old man to his left makes his move.

"Bishop takes queen, checkmate," Blake says in flawless Spanish without looking.

The old man whispers something as he confirms the play. With an annoyed click of his tongue, he tips over his white king. The man in front of Blake puffs his pipe trying not to be intimidated by Blake's first victory, when Black approaches quietly and stands by his team leader as he watches the game. Blake lights up a cigarette. It's time to wrap things up.

"Checkmate in three moves, old timer," Blake says. "Knight to d4, tower takes knight, and queen to g5. Good game."

The old man puffs smoke while contemplating the moves. Another white king goes down. "I'll be damned," the man says shaking Blake's hand. "That was a game well played."

"I've never seen anyone that skilled," the old man to the left says.

"Thank you, gentlemen," Blake says, tapping the excess ash from his cigarette. "You gave me a run for my money. Have a nice evening."

Blake walks away followed by his man.

"We lost him," Black says. "The tracking chip has gone off line. It's possible that the target found-"

"How's White?"

"He didn't make it," Black says. "When Blue got to him, he was already dead. He had just enough time to bail out with the body before the cops arrived. Don't worry, we weren't compromised."

Blake takes the news quietly. White was the newest member of his team and a hell of a soldier. He recruited him personally for SOG from the Marine Corps Forces Special Operations Command. "I guess we grossly underestimated Mr. Caine's abilities," he says.

"No shit," Black says. "That fucking Zoomy has talent. We should have offered him a job instead of messing with his head."

"We did," Blake says. "That's how I found him."

"What's our next move?"

"Tell the knob turners from The Activity to watch for any passports stolen in the next thirty-six hours and track them for border transit," Blake says, referring to the Intelligence Support Activity, a secret Army unit. "Caine is sure to leave Colombia ASAP. If he's smart, he'll be on the move so we can't pin him down again."

"He has nowhere to go and no one to turn to," Black says. "He's fucked."

"Confront them with annihilation, and they will then survive; plunge them into a deadly situation, and they will then live. When people fall into danger, they are then able to strive for victory," Blake quotes.

"Confucius?"

"Sun Tzu. A wounded animal is the most dangerous. We can't underestimate Caine, not again."

"And when we find him, what then? Are we to terminate or capture?"

"Capture," Blake says. "His status as a fugitive is a perfect fit for the operation. Each action that he takes, every law he breaks, just sinks him deeper into a hole from which he'll never be able to climb."

"I don't know, Boss, that guy is a major liability if you ask me."

"You worry about finding him. I'll worry about the rest.Besides, I still have an ace up my sleeve."