Callsign: Bishop - Book 1 (An Erik Somers - Chess Team Novella) Read Online Free PDF Page A

watched as the latest round of passengers exited the gate. A steady stream of people walked through the door, including several Americans, an Asian couple, and a group of Hispanics, all walking side by side with the Muslims who belonged here and those that did not. Ordinarily the two would be watching for freedom fighters, but today was different. Today their attention was focused on one visitor in particular: a large, burly man in a dark gray suit. He looked Iranian, as well he should, but he wasn’t. Not really. He was an American with an Iranian face. The two men spotted him right away.
    “Is that him?” one of the men asked.
    The other nodded. “It is.”
    “Should we go now?”
    “Not yet. It is too crowded here. Wait until he is outside.”
    “I will call ahead and let them know we will be bringing him shortly.”
    The man walked through the door and into the airport. He carried a black briefcase in his right hand and a map of the airport in the other. After consulting the map, he turned to his right and started to make his way to the exit.
    The two men fell into step behind the foreigner and followed him to the exit.
     

 
     
     
    4.
     
    Bishop stopped at the exit to the airport, watching as dozens of taxis vied for position outside the doors. Amidst the taxis, a large number of shuttles sat idling in the parking lot, waiting to carry passengers to one hotel or another. Private vehicles were prohibited from this area, and with good reason. With all the people milling around the waiting cabs and shuttles, there was barely enough room to breathe. He kept his eyes forward, scanning the vehicles for an empty taxi, but occasionally he glanced into nearby windows and mirrors, checking to see if the two men from the gate were still tailing him.
    He’d picked up on their attention the moment he stepped off the plane. They tried to be subtle, but his years of experience, combined with his extensive training and natural paranoia, made them easy to spot. Two men of medium height and build, both dressed as laborers, had followed him to the exit. One of them had already made a call with his cell phone, so Bishop knew they had friends waiting somewhere up ahead. But what did they want with him?
    There were several Americans on board the plane, most far less intimidating than Bishop. If these two men and their allies were jihadists, why didn’t they latch onto one of them? Were they after him specifically? If so, did they know who he was? How? He’d chosen a commercial airliner because he wanted to get into Iran undetected and the Crescent was already in use. As far as he knew, only Deep Blue and Keasling knew he would be coming to Iran, so how did these guys find out?
    Whoever they were, they would probably wait until after he left the airport before they tried anything. Airport security at Imam Khomeini was pretty tight, and the men would have had a hard time smuggling guns into the building. Additionally, the whole airport could be locked down in seconds if anything remotely resembling a terrorist plot were detected. So as long as he stayed in the airport, he would probably be safe. But then he would never find out who they were, not to mention that he couldn’t investigate the Manifold site from an airport restroom. If he wanted to get on with his job, he would have to get going and trust his training to deal with any obstacles that might come up along the way.
    Bishop spotted an empty taxi idling down the lot. The driver must have just arrived, because he was far back in the crowd of cars and shuttles and he didn’t have a fare yet. Bishop tightened his grip on his briefcase and started toward the taxi. Along the way, he glanced into the windshield of a waiting shuttle. There were the two men, milling around near the exit and watching his back. He chuckled. They weren’t very good at this. They might be able to stalk an unwitting tourist, but if they hoped to surprise him , they were going to be sorely