Discoveries (Mercenaries Book 5)

by Tony Lavely

  “Okay, okay. But, whether you like it or not, you’re one of the ’more equal’ team members.”

  “Huh? What’s that mean?”

  “It means,” Leonid said as he sauntered in, “that you, Mrs. Jamse, are worth more than any one of us… excepting Ian and Kevin. Nice to see you again, Ms Rios.”

  “Please! Call me Elena. How’s it going here?”

  “Marvelous! Such sunny weather. And pleasant… citizens to deal with.”

  Maybe the stupid look’s gone from my face, Beckie thought. “Lyeka, I thank you for your kind words though I don’t believe one of them, far less the implications of that sentence. However, this isn’t that time. Fabien said the guy we brought in after he tried to kill me, he’s still here?”

  “Right, just past where they’re working on the new one.”

  “Can we talk to him?”

  “Sure. You want me with you?”

  “That would be most welcome. Who’s with him now?”

  “A couple of the local police that we trust will neither kill him nor let him go.”

  She smiled. “Must be a fine line since he didn’t want to leave.” He chuckled as he reached a hand to help her up. “Lena, go get that shoulder patched. We’ll need you.”

  In the small room, Beckie waited while Leonid sent the two police to fetch the uninjured hostile from the truck, then have a tea or whatever. When they were alone with Al-Shazar’s henchman, she asked, “Want to share your name?”

  “No, I don’t think I do. If you don’t mind.”

  She shrugged. “Okay by me. It will make it more… difficult, I think, to find a safe haven for you, but⁠—”

  “When we get to that point, I shall reconsider.”

  “Okay,” she said with a chuckle. “Til then, I’ll just call you Mohammad. Why was Al-Shazar committed to killing me?”

  He blanched, not much, but enough. “He was convinced that if you were… disposed of, then the others would depart.”

  She nodded. “Leaving his ideas aside, why did he want ‘the others’ to depart?”

  “The reports we received of the dig… too close to the cache. While he believed the cache was in no peril, others worried.”

  I won’t confirm that the archeologists probably would have never gone over the ridge. “The reports? Who from?” When he gave no response, she smacked her hand on her thigh. “Choose for yourself. I have at least two tribal leaders available to take over your… care and feeding.” She began to turn toward the door.

  “Please, don’t leave. I will die…”

  Beckie glanced at Leonid, then stepped a couple of steps closer to Mohammad. “With your assistance, I can argue that you should be protected. Perhaps even relocated, if that would prolong your life. I make no guarantees, but I’ll do my best to keep you alive. If you make it worth my while.” She turned carefully on her foot. As she reached the door, she said. “I’ll be back in… in a little while. You think on your prospects.”

  In the front room, she asked the police to return to watch Mohammad for the time being. Leonid didn’t reappear as quickly as Beckie expected; she decided a coffee would help. Since there’s nothing stronger!

  Just before she finished the cup, Leonid walked in. As he put water on, for tea Beckie assumed, he said, “You unsettled him. As a peace offering, he claims that Al-Shazar represented a Syrian Daesh branch, seeking to expand their influence. He was to offer the weapons as inducement for the rebels to fall in line with Daesh. If they refused, he planned to use the weapons’ existence to threaten them. His understanding was that Al-Shazar would use the weapons to destroy Quetta, and if necessary, Gwadar, to bring about the alignment he and his boss wanted, under the Daesh flag.”

  “The weapons… I assume the devices, not the guns?”

  “I believe so, though I didn’t ask that specifically.”

  “Okay. Anything else Mohammad wanted to… offer?”

  “I think he hoped you’d be impressed by those.”

  “I am, but not as much as he hopes. I think I’ll take a nap. Wake me in…” She grabbed her phone. “… in an hour.”

  The sustained burst of an automatic weapon roused Beckie. She snatched her phone, combining the motion with rolling off the bed. While the firing had been close by, none of the rounds had come through the walls or window, at least that she could see.

  She squinted to read her phone. It’s one-thirty! I said an hour! And what would you have done differently, besides being more tired? Nothing, she admitted. Then get your ass in gear!

  The window seemed like a good place to begin; she crawled under the bed and across to the wall beside the opening. Her back against the wall, she inched her way up to stand. As she did, she peered out.

  The scene was quiet. No more shots. What’s that mean? Means you go slow! She nodded and surveyed the outside again. Two pickups outside, but one of these was blue and the other closer to black, not the off-white that Leonid’s trucks all seemed to be. So, who’s visiting and why? And how come none of Leonid’s trucks are here?

  Dropping to the floor again allowed her to scurry to the far side of the window, where she could examine the scenery in that direction. Ah. A shalwar kameez wearing body lay still in front of the first truck. A flung automatic rifle lay five or six feet from the outstretched hand.

  Maybe you should get some firepower yourself, Beck. She crawled back to her pack and strapped on the M1911. Against the wall beside the door, she listened, hard. Shouting had by now stopped. Damn. I liked it better when I could hear them. She spent thirty seconds hoping the situation would offer some resolution, but in vain. She unholstered the gun.

  Slowly, cautiously, she eased the door open a crack. Frustrated, she thought, do I really need to go this slow? As she moved her head to get a better view, the light changed. The warning allowed her to jerk her head out of the door’s arc; a body slammed against it, flying into the room. Without thought, she swung the two-pound pistol. “Unngh!” The impact against the person’s head almost dashed it from her hand, but she held on. The body went slack, sliding across the floor and fetching up against the bed. Blood smeared along the path it had taken.

  He’s not gonna move for a minute. She dropped to a knee to catch her breath and to be out of anyone’s view who might still be out there. With an abundance of caution she peered out into the hallway. Nothing moved. In her sock feet, she slipped out and checked the rooms. Even the dish antenna stood unchanged.

  Back in her room, she held the M1911 ready as she grabbed the body’s shoulder and rolled it over to examine him. He had a pulse. Blood from where she’d clobbered him was already beginning to clot. The dark kameez he wore had seen better days, but more important, it did not cover body armor. There were no weapons except the three-inch knife he’d dropped. She grabbed cords from her pack and secured his arms and legs to the bed frame.

  She returned to the hall and looked down the stairs. Okay, guys, what’s going on? Can’t believe that guy in there and the one in the street are alone. She backed away from the steps and retrieved her boots. Being careful to make no clomping sounds, she checked the other two rooms before ending with the dish antenna again.

  The blast that had long ago damaged the roof had wrecked the wall in the back corner of the building. Just above where Mohammad was… Wonder if they’re after him? Better get moving, someone’s got to have heard the Thunk when that guy hit and it’s been, what… Three minutes? Is that all? Time flies when you’re having fun. Not!

  She snuck around the antenna and looked out the hole; well, no telling what we’ll find. Before any rational thought could interfere, she swung a leg through the opening and leaned out to find her next foothold. The fence, I can reach it with my foot and then drop beside whatever that pen is for.

  Her plan worked up to the point where the fence post fell over. She rode it down, landing more gracefully than her silent curses implied. “Oof!” She allowed a few seconds for her pain to fade, then stood the post up to delay any
pursuit.

  Goats! Three of them were now bleating and she hadn’t stepped to the out side of the fence post. Better get moving! In a second, she’d checked the window that overlooked the pen and eliminated it as a possible entry; it opened on Mohammad’s room. The fence post laid over as easily as it had when she landed on it; she quickly reached the far side and slunk along the wall to the street side.

  Yeah, did you really think no one’d be out there? Two guys, not even just one, flanking the front door. And they both have serious AK’s. Another moment’s thought led her to reject the idea of a frontal attack. Not knowing the odds made that a seriously bad option. And I have no suppressor for this, hefting the gun.

  A shout from inside threw her back against the side wall, out of sight. But only for a moment; as quickly as the echoes faded, she rounded the corner; the men in front had disappeared. A sweep of the street told her they must have gone inside. At the entry, she spared a glance to make sure the way was clear, then crept through.

  With her back against the wall, she sidled toward the opening to the front room, where snippets of conversation were becoming more obvious. Just as obvious: these were friendly conversations, not what she expected. She tried to locate Leonid’s voice; it seemed to originate from the side opposite the window.

  As quietly as she could, she turned to face the wall, then inched⁠—millimetered would be more descriptive, she thought in a flurry of irrational thought⁠—to her right, toward the archway. She backed away slightly to improve her sightlines.

  Well, that’s interesting. Most everyone’s here… But I don’t see or hear Fab… Or Tark. But Lyeka’s not… What about the dead guy in the street? And the automatic weapons? Why am I so confused? This must make sense to someone!

  It took a second to push her frustration back down where it belonged. She checked the M1911 again, then held it almost vertical with her finger in the guard but off the trigger. She stepped through the doorway. “What’s going on? There’s a firefight, a body in the street and now everyone’s making nice. Explanations?”

  “Mrs. Jamse.” Leonid’s expression wasn’t the comfort she’d hoped. “What happened… Why are you…” She hated the confusion in his face. Did I fuck up again?

  “I don’t understand.” There was no threat in this room. She lowered the pistol, then holstered it.

  “We sent Dinesh to ask you to join us,” Leonid said.

  Beckie laughed, but she feared it was a little maniacal. A gulp to recover herself, then, “He should have knocked. And he didn’t speak English. Or… Oops. I didn’t give him the chance. Sorry.” She cocked her head toward Leonid. “His head probably aches, but nothing worse.” She held the man’s knife out toward Elena. “Are you okay?” The woman nodded. “Good! Can you take this and, if we’re all lovey-dovey here, Lyeka? Let him go, please.”

  Elena took three or four minutes to return with the man, who held his head, but was otherwise apparently undamaged. He gave Beckie a sheepish look before exchanging words with Khan. When they finished, the man left the room and the house. Khan said, “He apologizes. His English, sufficient to invite you, was completely lost after you… tapped his head. He agrees that he was… injudicious in approaching your door; we had given him to understand you would be asleep.”

  “Which might not have given him a better reception.” She patted the M1911. “But rifle fire woke me. That hasn’t been explained.”

  Khan looked across to Leonid, who said, “Apparently, a few of Rezaei’s men were bound to revenge his detention. They seem to think Khan had some responsibility for it.”

  “No accounting, I guess. That’s still no reason to leave the body out in the street.”

  “Right. But⁠—”

  “You are correct, Madame Jamse,” Khan said, then continued speaking to his men. They apparently agreed with him, and left. “They will take care of him.”

  “Thank you. Now, what purpose did you have here? I know Lyeka serves excellent tea… but I sense a more mundane reason.”

  Leonid smiled. “Remind me not to try to confuse you, Mrs. Jamse. Amir Khan wished to relieve you of responsibility for the man you call Mohammad.”

  Beckie felt the need to smile herself. “Unfortunately, I have promised him protection, at least until he chooses not to avail himself of my offer.” She allowed her hand to drop to the M1911’s grip. “I trust no one has interfered with my promise.”

  “He’s unconscious,” Leonid said, “but we think okay. Rapped on the head. Doesn’t seem bad but Fab will check him when he returns.”

  “Hmm.” She tried not to snarl. “Okay. Was that the only reason, Sahib?”

  “For today, Madame.”

  “Very well.” She shook her head to clear her mind. “I’d like to talk with you at length, but only after some sleep. Can we meet tomorrow?”

  “Here? Or…”

  “Your home would be fine. Or here. Or wherever you wish, within reason.”

  “Here, then. We can enjoy some of Captain Danilin’s tea. Yes, that would be fine. I will have these men with me.”

  “I look forward to it.”

  When Khan and his troops had driven off, Beckie pointed to the back and said, “How is he, really?”

  Elena stood and hurried out. Beckie took a breath and rushed to follow.

  In the back room, Elena had dropped to a knee beside Mohammad, who was still unconscious.

  “How bad off is he?”

  “Fabien’ll look at him, but no blood and no obvious dents.”

  “And how are you?”

  “I’m fine. Fab checked me over again before he took the other guy to the hospital. About ten minutes after he left, those guys rolled up for their meeting.”

  “What’d they really want, anyway?”

  Elena shrugged. “Not a question I can answer. If you have your phone, you might try Fab or Tark.”

  Beckie took off for her room. “Be right back, Lyeka,” she said as she passed him.

  Her phone was right where she’d left it.

  “So, Lyeka,” Beckie said on returning to the front room, “I’ll ask you, since Lena had no answer. What did Khan really want?”

  “Ah. What he said matches perfectly with what he told us before you appeared. While he may have had an ulterior motive, I saw no evidence of it. What do you hope to accomplish tomorrow?”

  “I’d like to see if he can be convinced of… well, whether or not he believes the people in Islamabad, I hope he can be convinced not to test you the way Rezaei did.” She signed and waved toward the back room. “And I hope Mohammad knows something besides what he’s said so far.”

  She called Fabien and asked him to return when he was finished at the medical center. Leonid tried to push her toward the stairs and her bed, but Elena caught them both. “Fedor just called from the site. About a half hour ago⁠—Must have been the same time the fighting broke out out front⁠—Ben spotted a couple of small helicopters heading around to the south of the site. Really small copters. Took them a while, he said, but they’re down the slope from where you said the cache might be. He thought you should know.”

  Beckie remembered Tarquin’s belief the weapons had come in by helicopter. And the small ultralight copters that Jean-Luc had tried to convince her to buy. She’d turned him down, but told him he could have space in the hangar if he bought one. With a capacity of two to three hundred kilos, one could carry a pilot and one of the nukes.

  “Yeah. Good thought.” She leaned against the wall to catch her breath. “Okay, how’s this? Tell Fedor to keep watch but not engage unless the outcome is assured. Tark!”

  “Right here… Yes?”

  “The trackers on the nukes, what’s the range? And battery life?”

  “Outside, as long as the satellite can communicate, range is unlimited, around here at least. Batteries good for another month, probably.”

  “Can we track them with a portable thing?”

  “I’ll fetch it, assuming we’re about to leave.”
He disappeared into his work space. “I’ll meet you at the truck.”

  Beckie held up her hand. “First, Fedor. Make sure Ben or whomever keeps watch with his head down. Defend the site if necessary… though I don’t think that’ll be the issue.”

  “Why not?” Elena asked.

  “If they had copters large enough for a bunch of troops, everyone would see them and hear them. I think… hope… they’re coming for the nukes and nothing else. So,” she continued to Leonid, “everyone there should be ready if necessary. Maybe…” She stopped and put a hand on his chest. “The scientists and the site are the first priority!”

  Four: A Skein of Minicopters

  Beckie listened to Leonid as he used the radio, passing instructions. They matched hers until, “If the helicopters leave no one there, have Ben and Gillian follow us in one of the trucks. And call us, in case we need back up. Everyone else… Well, Sam has the defense of the site as his priority… Right.”

  Beckie blinked and grabbed Leonid’s shoulder. “Fedor’s in charge, though, right?”

  He shoved the truck into gear and started off. “Of course.”

  In fifteen minutes, Tarquin looked up. “I have them. Moving. Headed… not enough information yet.”

  Leonid had slid under the steering wheel when they prepared to leave. Beckie sat beside him; Elena, Tarquin and his radio, and a couple of AK-47s filled the back seat. Beckie gazed around, trying to decide what she’d not brought that would be critically necessary. Besides the rest of the team. Though… if the copters were on the move…

  “What’s that? Up there?”

  Leonid started at Beckie’s shout. Headed toward the site, they were about to pass two vans, both with spindly trailers attached. They had been parked off the road in a flat space.

  “Pull over, Lyeka. Go ask them if everything’s okay.”