Operations Center 2, CIA Headquarters
Langley, Virginia
“W
hy is everything so muffled?” asked Tong.
Leroux chuckled. “Because we’re listening to his boys.”
She stared at him, puzzled. “I thought he meant the Delta team.”
Child snickered. “No, he meant his balls. Right now, every muffled little sound you hear is the mike rubbing on his scrote.”
“Eww, gross!”
Leroux agreed. “Yup, but in a pat-down situation, the number one place one man doesn’t want to pat another are the boys, so if you want to get away with hiding something, that’s the place to put it.” He pointed in the general direction of the speakers overhead. “See if you can clean up that audio so we have a little less sac noise.”
Tong scrunched up her nose but turned back to her keyboard. “Just a second.” After a few moments, the high-end snaps and pops were reduced and Leroux gave a thumbs up.
“Okay, that’s better.”
Child cocked an ear. “Wait. Did he just say he only had twelve men?”
Leroux smiled. “Yup, that’s exactly what he said. Little does he know he only has eleven.” He put on his headset. “Zero-One, Control, we have confirmation that you are dealing with twelve, I repeat twelve, on the security team.”
Dawson’s voice replied. “Copy that, Control. Everyone, let’s keep a headcount. The security team is twelve, repeat twelve, with one already eliminated leaving eleven for those who can’t do basic math.”
“He’s talking to you, One-One,” interjected the deep baritone of Atlas.
Leroux chuckled at the insult directed at Niner, the one person who couldn’t reply without possibly exposing his position. “Zero-One, the security lead has instructed Kane to be put with the professors and two guards put on the door, over.”
“Copy that. Let us know as soon as the security personnel have cleared the courtyard. We’ll proceed then, over.”
“Roger that, Zero-One, good luck.”
