JSOC unit commander Dakota drove a black Suburban while his teammate, call sign Harley, sat in the front passenger’s seat, hunched over a laptop displaying navigational information, as well as a constant array of images of the streets around them.

The twelve-man JSOC team was split up into two-man teams today. The two pairs who’d spent the evening watching over Hanley’s house were sleeping off their long night’s shift, which left four teams of two, each in a different vehicle, each in a different sector of the District.

Jordan Mayes had called Dakota two hours earlier and asked him to vector one of the teams closer to Max Ohlhauser’s office, and to hold position in the neighborhood. Mayes didn’t want anyone to actually tail the former CIA attorney. The head of the JSOC special mission unit cell immediately tasked himself to Ohlhauser’s area, along with a teammate. It was a low probability callout because no one expected Gentry to be just idly wandering the streets outside of Ohlhauser’s office, but until Suzanne Brewer and her people at the TOC got some better lead, Dakota figured he might as well give it a shot.

There were thousands of people walking and driving around the heart of D.C. near the White House, so it was a good thing Dakota and Harley didn’t have to use their own eyeballs to hunt for the target. Instead they had mounted a state-of-the-art digital camera on the front grill of the GMC Yukon XL, and the camera scanned the entire street in a 120-degree arc, taking in all the facial recognition data it could pull from passersby, and feeding it into the computer.

While Dakota drove a crisscrossing pattern in a three-block radius of Ohlhauser’s place of business, Harley’s job was to sit in the passenger’s seat and watch the laptop. Every second new faces were analyzed by the software as the computer searched the streets.

It was good technology under the care of hardworking and well-trained men, but even though they’d been at it for a half hour so far, they’d come up empty. They’d not had a single hit—not even a false alarm.

Dakota was frustrated, but he was committed to the search, so he kept his patrol up. He planned on making a right at the next intersection, then heading back in the direction of the center of his surveillance zone. Dakota and Harley both assumed Ohlhauser was sitting in his office in the center of their search pattern, and they had no clue he was, instead, walking down the street just in front of them as they headed west on G approaching the 12th Street NW intersection.

Harley had barely said a word in the past fifteen minutes, but he called out in a loud voice just as Dakota flipped his turn signal lever.

“Got a hit, boss!”