Discoveries (Mercenaries Book 5)

by Tony Lavely

  “Why?”

  “Those look like trailers for those little helicopters I was talking about. Maybe they’ll show up here and we won’t have to look for them!”

  “They do seem to be headed this way.”

  “Go, before they get nervous about it. Just be polite.”

  “We’re always polite, Mrs. Jamse.” He dropped out of the cab and didn’t run, but didn’t dawdle either, to the closest van.

  “Got some more trackers, Tark?”

  “Not with me. They’re about eight minutes away, if they don’t change course.”

  “Probably wouldn’t be a good idea to shoot these guys before they land,” Elena said. “What’s their range?”

  “The ones Jean-Luc looked at, about sixty miles. Others go up to a couple hundred miles.”

  Elena slid off the seat. “So we don’t want them to see bad things and run.”

  “No. And there’s damn-all for cover.”

  “They’ve slowed.”

  “Hmm. While Lyeka’s keeping them busy, Tark, you and I’ll slip into that cosy little ditch over there.”

  Beckie felt Elena grab her arm and yank her around. “Damn! No need for that! What?”

  “Think about that.”

  Absentmindedly, Beckie waved Tarquin to move. He took one of the AKs with him. In a moment, Beckie shook her head. She’s right. Even with the shoulder wound, she can move better than me. And she’s no worse a shot with these than me. So sit your ass down and let the capable ones do their job. Your job!

  She handed Elena an AK-47 and shoved her down and after Tarquin, who’d nearly buried himself in the sand and dust.

  As Elena scrubbed dirt over herself, Leonid hurried back. “They say they’re fine; stopped for police maneuvers. He suggested we’d be happier elsewhere. Did I see Tark and Lena⁠—”

  “Nope. You saw nothing. Move down the road a klick or two then turn around. Oh, there, beside that outcropping.” He acknowledged her with a wave, but drove on another minute or so. “Good,” as he spun the truck and returned to stop beside the ten-foot high rock wall that sloped into the ground just before them. As they sat, she said, “Hear anything from Ben? Or anyone?”

  “Tark says he loves working for you. Such pleasant… environments. But that’s not what he means, I’m sure.”

  “Likely not,” she agreed with a chuckle.

  “Ben’s got Sam and Gillian. He just met the road, so… about five klicks.”

  “Tell him to slow down if he sees the copters. Don’t want him to spook them, either.”

  “Right. Fedor has Fabien watching the cache from the ridge. Everything’s quiet there.”

  “Mmm.”

  She could see the other white pickup approaching slowly from behind. Leonid nodded when she gave him a questioning glance. “It’s them.”

  In two minutes, the first of the miniature helos bobbed across the road ahead, near where the two vans had parked. She’d not heard it. Seconds later, the second one trailed along, a little higher than the first. “Drop out and check with those guys, okay?” She hooked her thumb at the truck behind. “If it all goes to plan, they’ll land and roll them onto the trailers. We need to stop them before that happens, but after they get to the ground.”

  In the distance, the first helo landed and as the dust settled, she could see the pilot as he joined the crew from the vans, pushing the ultralight toward the trailer. The second copter landed, but didn’t shut down.

  “Com’on, Lyeka,” she muttered. The mutter became a curse. Elena and Tarquin broke cover; even from her distant vantage point, she could see them run as sand flowed off them. “Too late, Lyeka!” She jammed the truck into gear and accelerated toward the vans.

  The truck was ungainly as well as slow, the half kilometer took a minute to traverse. Behind her, Ben had his truck closing on her. “How come he gets the good one!” she called to the wind. He couldn’t get there before she did, anyway, and… The last fifteen seconds allowed her to wonder what good she would do on her arrival.

  No one had noticed her approach, but Elena and Tarquin had been observed; the pilot and the van crew were fumbling, trying to get the copter on the trailer before… One of the van men raised his weapon and fired. Both Elena and Tarquin returned fire; the copter shuddered as bullets pierced the canopy. One of the van crew fell.

  Beckie hit the sand beside where Elena had hidden. The pilot of the second copter turned to gape at her. She watched him work the cyclical; the rotor sped up and the machine began to rise.

  “Oh, no you don’t!” she hollered into the air, and drove at the helicopter.

  It was a few feet off the ground and spinning to face her when she hit.

  The port-side strut came through the truck’s passenger window and caught. For a second, the truck was lifted, nose down. Beckie watched the sand fall away. The roof gave, ripped open, but not soon enough to save the overloaded copter. It rolled over and, after smashing its rotor on the rocks, fell into the bed behind Beckie. She still had her foot on the gas; the truck landed and shot forward until it buried the front end in a ditch. The truck stopped; the copter rolled over the cab and fell off the nose of the truck. Everything halted. Beckie breathed, then threw herself to the seat as a round zinged off either the copter’s body or the truck’s.

  Unsure of her exact location with respect to the vans and the men, she peered through the back window. Sam and Ben were backing up Elena and Tarquin, holding the four men. Just as she wondered where Gillian had gotten to, the woman burst around the back of the truck to land beside her door.

  A deep breath made Beckie feel capable of speech. Gillian, however, pushed her back then yanked her out of the cab on her back. When her feet hit the ground, Gillian pulled her up to stand, then yanked her away.

  When they’d run ten or so yards, she let go; they both stopped. “Wanted to make sure…” The gas tank on the copter finally leaked sufficient fuel on the exhaust that it went Whoosh in an entertaining⁠—from a distance!⁠—fireball.

  “Yeah,” Beckie said. “Thanks. Everyone else okay?”

  Sam had made it to them. “Ben has a bruise brought on by a sudden stop…” He waved at the other truck, also dug into a ditch. “… and Lena and Tark need water to wash the dirt out of their mouths. Other than that, one of the hostiles has a leg wound that shouldn’t be too much trouble. The pilot of that…” He waved at the pile of helicopter-truck wreckage, where the fire was already dying out. “… got pitched out when he went over your head. He’s maybe got a broken bone, or maybe just some pulled muscles.”

  “All that and we didn’t kill anyone? Good job! Now…”

  The next several minutes were filled by decisions to recover the two aluminum cases⁠—the one from the copter that Beckie’d crashed was standing politely in the bed of the truck where the fire hadn’t spread⁠—and load them in Ben’s pickup, to immobilize the six men, and finally, to take the nukes back to the base where Leonid believed he could secure them until they could get rid of them. The police watching Mohammad would enjoy a chance to get out and rescue the men locked in their van.

  The plan went much as written; Beckie hadn’t considered that her team might want to debrief quite so quickly. In the truck on the way into Surab, Elena asked, “Why’d you jump and leave Lyeka?”

  Beckie could see Leonid… I guess Elena just beat him to asking. “I saw you and Tark break cover and make your move. I could see five guys there with the copter; I couldn’t tell from the distance how many weapons they had. So, I moved to back you up. I was certain that Leonid and the others would be on my ass with a vengeance. I didn’t know Ben’s truck was faster than mine⁠—”

  “What diff⁠—”

  “None; it just came to me watching him catch me up. Anyway, I got closer and I could see you two were probably gonna be okay but before I backed off, the other guy started to take his copter up. So… I stopped him. What about from your side?”

  Even though the sun hadn’t set when the n
ukes were secreted under the building, Leonid, backed by Sam, sent Beckie to her room, “To get the sleep you wanted before talking to Khan.”

  More goat stew for dinner then, Beckie guessed, and she fell into the bed.

  Five: Khan Comes Back, and Brody

  The next morning, Leonid told Beckie that Mohammad was able to speak. “But first, a quick update. The policemen who interrogated the men with the helicopters and the…” Beckie nodded her understanding and he continued, “Most were from tribes associated with Rezaei.” Beckie rolled her eyes and pitched her hands in the air. “No, wait! The leader was not. He has a Syrian passport, and had just entered the country.”

  “And that means?”

  “Further investigations are in process. That’s all they could say.”

  So he could be Daesh. Or maybe the Monaco people, but I hope the Inspector’s keeping them busy. “Okay, thanks. I’ll go talk with Mohammad now.” Beckie carried her coffee down the hall to his room. “I have returned. What can you tell me?”

  He repeated the two statements Leonid had reported before.

  “That’s not enough,” Beckie said. “Who’s Al-Shazar? What’s his connection? What about Sheikh Abdul-Salam Bakir, from Qatar? Or maybe Bahrain?”

  His eyes opened wide. “I don’t know a Sheikh by that name. Al-Shazar sent the letter you ignored. He hoped to capture you and take you to… I am not certain.”

  “Best guess, then.”

  He cowered under her glare. “Perhaps, France.”

  That makes sense, in a bizarre way. “Wait! He was gonna shoot me.”

  “He was said to have a… an incendiary temper. I did not speak to him… Well, until he entered the room.”

  “Hmm.” Let’s see if he’ll confirm what I know. “So, the weapons. Where exactly are they? Who are they for?”

  He glanced toward the door. “May I have some tea?” Beckie nodded and called for a cup. “Al-Shazar had the location information to himself,” he continued, “although I suppose someone else must have known. I do not, not exactly.”

  Beckie involuntarily rolled her eyes. “We’ll leave that for now. Why were they brought in?” At least, this time he didn’t look away.

  “The Iraqi Daesh with whom Al-Shazar operated have tried for two or three years to ally with the Baluchistan rebels, against the Pakistan rulers in Islamabad. They wish to make Baluchistan a part of their caliphate, and with the conditions here, it seemed perfect. However, the rebels seem to want nothing to do with Daesh, no matter the benefits.”

  “So, the weapons…”

  “They have lain wait for over a year while the negotiations failed. The rebels would have had them if they agreed to accept Daesh leadership.”

  “And Gwadar?”

  “Gwadar’s control by the Chinese was a sore point with Al-Shazar’s group. Not the trade going to China, but their control of the port facility.”

  Beckie sighed. Everything is so reasonable. Just what we’d expect. “So Al-Shazar didn’t care about the archeologists at all, right?”

  He shrugged. “Their work may be an affront to Islam, but his concern was…” He paused long enough that Beckie glared at him. “His concern was the discovery of the cache, which some believed too close to their digging.” He took a deep breath. “His conversion…” His expression became sardonic. “… left much to be desired.”

  “Yeah, he certainly missed the lecture about killing people… Anyway, you said you thought he might have wanted to take me to France. Tell me about that, if he was working with Iraqis or Syrians.”

  ‘Mohammad’ said nothing, merely sipped his tea.

  Beckie turned toward the door. “We may talk again.” She walked out on his spluttering.

  Back in the kitchen area, she poured a cup of the coffee and sat heavily in the far chair.

  “Nothing?” Elena asked.

  “A little, but not the connection between Monaco and here, even though his phone came from there. He talked to them!”

  “You tell him what’s gonna happen to him?”

  “Not yet. I’m not sure what to do with him. I think he’s not playing fair, giving me little bits and pieces when he could just tell me everything.”

  “Did you tell him that?”

  “He knows it! I don’t need to reward him by admitting I know what he’s doing.”

  “Well, what do you have over him?”

  “Damn, Elena, the only thing I have is turning him over to guys who don’t particularly like him… Not that anyone’s really on his side, that I’ve found. I don’t want to just threaten him, but I don’t know where to draw the line. I mean, he knows my position.”

  “Sounds like he needs a reminder. How about I take a turn? My shoulder’s hurting; it’ll put me in the right mood.”

  “You gonna be okay?”

  “Of course! Fab says I shouldn’t be complaining; the bullet missed anything useful, like, you know, bones and stuff. And the scar won’t be any worse than yours. How about your ribs? And face? What did Ian say about that?”

  “We chuckled about needing my ribs taped again.” She reflected a moment. “I don’t think he even mentioned the work that Fab did on my face. I’ll have to ask him about that.” After another sip of the coffee, now too cool to be really drinkable, she said, “Okay. Go talk to him. Don’t beat him up. Don’t promise anything I can’t deliver.”

  “Don’t worry. This conversation will be about his future, not yours.” Elena put her cup on the table and walked out.

  “Well done, Mrs. Jamse.”

  “What? I just sat here, Lyeka.”

  “Sometimes no move is the correct move. Don’t fear delegation.”

  Beckie stood and headed for the coffee. “Tea? I’m not sure…”

  “No problem. I have some… unique pleasures in my tea,” he said with a chuckle. “Sit back and watch.”

  Beckie filled her cup and took Leonid’s suggestion. “Believe me, I have no problem with delegation. You wouldn’t be here if I did, would you?”

  “Correct, but that’s a little different than allowing Elena to interrogate the prisoner.”

  “I guess, but that’s only because I made a personal promise to him.”

  “A promise that Elena is not exactly bound by. She could hold herself to the letter of your promise, or its spirit, or what she can convince him it means.” He set his cup on the table to steep. “And the important thing is that you aren’t bound by what she says unless you choose to be.”

  “Yeah, I guess that’s true. I just hope he gives us enough I can reasonably get him out of the area.”

  “Where to?”

  “England, if he can convince them he’s truly not a terrorist looking for recruits. But that’ll be his job, not mine.”

  “Good.” He tested his tea, then sipped with gusto. When he’d set the cup gently down, he said, “What is your goal, first for the… packages of yesterday, and then, for this afternoon?”

  She sipped her coffee, then sat up. “The packages…” She nodded toward Mohammad’s room. “I want nothing more said about them out loud. Tark was gonna try and find someone with a helicopter to clean out the… closet. We’ll get with him and see if that’s gone anywhere. Until then, keep it quiet, okay?” He agreed with a smile.

  She leaned back in the chair. She started to raise her hands behind her head, but her ribs nixed that idea. She gave Leonid a wry smile. “My goal is to get the hell outta here so you can do your job. Today’s step in that direction is to see if we can get Amir Khan to accept that you have sufficient firepower to actually protect the scientists, the site and yourselves… though I think you’ve already made a clear case for that. Next, and it may not happen today, I want to convince him that the Pakistanis, even the ones in Islamabad that he hates, are far better than the Daesh guys.”

  She leaned forward, allowing her real feelings to shape her expression. “No matter what Fabien thinks, I really want to get back to Ian and Ralf, to the Nest.” She gulped a ragged brea
th of air, then raised her head to stare back at him. “This boss shit isn’t all it’s cracked up to be, you know.” Her head dropped to her hands. “I am so fucking scared…”

  The moment of silence lasted and lasted, until Beckie felt like shriveling up and slinking away into the twisted corners of her mind… Or wherever, she thought. I didn’t need to say that. Well, too late now⁠—

  A hand clapped her shoulder; she winced and picked up her head. Elena was settling into the seat Leonid had been in. “You okay? Sounded like some of that patented teenage angst the song writers love.”

  “Bullshit. Where’s Lyeka?”

  “Turned tail. Guess he’s no better with tears than Kevin. About your buddy⁠—”

  “Wait a minute while I straighten Leonid out.” She turned and called, “Lyeka! In here please.”

  He appeared almost before she’d finished, nervous.

  “Come in and sit down.” She waved at the remaining chair.

  “I’ll stand; that one’s ready to collapse.”

  “Okay. I’m sorry⁠— No, dammit, I am not going to apologize for being a woman any more than I’m going to tape my boobs or cut my hair or pad my waist⁠—more than the armor does, anyway. And there’s no reason for you to run away, just because I⁠—or anyone else⁠—needs to blow off a little steam. You shouldn’t even be surprised.” She reached across the table to shake his hand, and he took it.

  “Very well, Mrs. Jamse. I will apologize for being embarrassed at your… unexpected emotion. Now, I understand the long term goal of getting back on track here. What specifically is your goal for the meeting with Khan?”

  She stood and took a step toward the coffee before stopping. “I’ve had enough caffeine for today, I think.” Leonid chuckled as he turned and retrieved a bottle of water and slid it over the table top to her place. “Thanks. Before we get to that, Lena, you didn’t leave Mohammad just to hear me moan. What gives?”

  “Your buddy back there is confident he’s gonna die here. But on the off chance you’ll save his butt… Al-Shazar was supposed to be building his Syrian Daesh group’s reputation with the rebels here. Part of that was an offer to supply arms.” He nodded. “Yeah, those arms. They’d done a deal with an arms dealer headquartered in Monaco, who’d delivered the weapons. Al-Shazar wouldn’t release them because the rebels wouldn’t kowtow to him. And while he wasn’t concerned about the scientists finding them, the Monaco people were all over him about the possibility.