by Matt Rogers
He didn’t want to think about anything — at least for the time being. Any kind of self-reflection would only draw attention to the state of his broken wrist, and the damaged muscles across his upper back, and his spasming ribcage, and his potentially-broken nose pulsating with agony.
His nose had only recently healed after Mexico…
Ignore it.
Struggling to take his mind off the injuries, he sunk into a trance-like state as he followed the path back to Afgooye’s outer limits. There was little debate as to which direction Reed had headed — there was only one way in and out of the complex. The sides of the trail were reserved for inhospitable terrain — unless Reed had decided to simply run over anything in sight, he would stick to the main trail until he made it to his replacement for the haul truck.
If there was one to begin with.
When they returned to civilisation — worse for wear but still holding themselves together — King applied the brakes and paused for consideration at a T-junction.
‘North or south of Mogadishu?’ he said.
‘What do you think?’
‘I have no idea. You’ve been here longer. You know the lay of the land better than I do.’
She pondered that statement. ‘North. It’s more desolate. Less chance of getting randomly murdered. If I was Reed, I’d drive up the coast, to one of the fishing villages.’
‘Why?’
‘No-one goes up there. That’s reason enough.’
‘There’s no warring factions up there?’
‘There’s warring factions everywhere. But it’d be simple enough to buy a discreet extraction on a container ship — they don’t even have to come all the way to shore. He can meet them just off the coast. It’s what I’d do. I haven’t spent enough time with him, but I imagine it’s what he’d do.’
‘Sounds accurate enough. But it doesn’t narrow down our options. That’s a lot of coast to cover.’
‘Do you have superiors?’
‘Yeah.’
‘Contact them. Get them to check if there’s any container ships stalling unnecessarily along the coast.’
‘If it’s a common occurrence like you say, there could be dozens. It won’t tell us anything.’
‘It’s better than nothing. I assume we have access to all kinds of satellite feeds.’
‘I wouldn’t know. I’m still a young pup in this game.’
‘And they sent you out here.’
‘Must have had faith in me.’
‘I can see why.’
He paused. ‘North?’
‘North.’
He twisted the massive wheel and swung the semi-tractor to the left, setting off into the total darkness.
‘If we’re wrong…’ Beth said.
‘Then Reed gets away with what I’m imagining is hundreds of millions of dollars. No-one ever finds him again, and he lives out the rest of his days in luxury after murdering two of his brothers-in-arms. I get chewed out and possibly released from my role, and you get dishonourably discharged for lying to your fellow Force Recon Marines and following me. And that’s best-case scenario. In all likelihood we get killed by armed bandits while trying to track Reed down.’
‘Was that supposed to reassure me?’ she said. ‘You’re sounding awfully pessimistic.’
‘This is a pessimistic field,’ he said, and settled into an uneasy silence as they accelerated into the night.
37
The trail took them all the way back to the outskirts of Mogadishu, passing shoddy, rundown neighbourhoods milling with activity and all manner of fearsome-looking parties loitering by the side of the road, searching for stray travellers. King kept his foot firmly planted on the gas pedal at all times, unwilling to slow down for even a second. He lost count of the number of automatic weapons he spotted over the course of the journey.
The road ran parallel to Mogadishu for a couple dozen miles, running along the furthest stretch of the city from the coastline. From there it twisted back into the more desolate stretches of Somalia, replacing dishevelled buildings and collapsed infrastructure with the weed-choked fields and hollowed-out administrative checkpoints that King had become used to by now.
He wrestled with the idea of contacting Lars. None of the news he bore was pleasant — it was near-identical to the situation he’d faced in Mexico. But the man would find out one way or another that the Force Recon Marine they’d been interested in recruiting had turned psychotic and slaughtered his fellow comrades.
King might as well be the one to break the news.
He fished the satellite phone out of the duffel bag in the passenger’s footwell and dialled. The man answered within seconds.
‘Where are you?’ King said.
‘Still airborne. It’s a damn long trip. I’m almost back stateside. What’s the update? I haven’t heard anything.’
‘It’s bad. It’s all bad.’
Lars sighed. ‘That seems to be a reoccurring problem with you.’
‘I get the job done, though, don’t I?’
‘You going to get it done this time?’
‘Maybe. It’s complicated.’
‘Well, fill me in.’
King told him everything, starting from the moment he stepped foot on the runway, moving through to the initial encounter with Reed and his preliminary investigation around the port, then touching on the scene he’d returned to and the altercation in Afgooye.
‘…And here we are,’ he finished, taking a deep breath as he realised he’d spent two full minutes vomiting information.
Lars took some time to respond, opting to process the tale King had told. After a few seconds of radio silence, he said, ‘Are you fucking with me?’
‘Wish I was.’
‘You’ve barely been in-country for twelve hours.’
‘I don’t mess around.’
‘Where are you now?’
King stared out at the dark, undulating plains. ‘Middle of absolute nowhere. We’re going to find Reed’s haul truck soon, though. My guess is he’ll abandon it soon — if he hasn’t already.’
‘How big is it?’
‘Largest vehicle I’ve ever seen.’
‘He’ll ditch it. Christ — I wanted him in our ranks. That’s the reason you’re in Somalia. Imagine what would have unfolded if we’d recruited him before he could pull off this mess?’
‘Based on everything I’ve learnt so far,’ King said, ‘I’ve worked out he likes money. Maybe he would have bitten at the chance to serve his country and get paid well for it… if we’d offered.’
‘He would have been a ticking time bomb. We both know that.’
‘Obviously.’
‘How long until he sensed an opportunity to disappear with enough money to keep him going for the rest of his life?’
‘That’s what he’s doing right now.’
‘You don’t know what he’s doing. He could have stolen sensitive information for all we know. He might be planning to sell it to the highest bidder.’
‘How often do you keep sensitive information in a haul bed the size of a building? Whatever it is, it’s valuable. They had at least five men guarding it, maybe more. I lost sight of Reed while he was killing the guards.’
‘He killed five men in Afgooye?’
‘He’s killed plenty more than that. It took a string of abductions at the port for him to be able to infiltrate the supply route without anyone raising an alarm. I don’t know the details of what he did yet.’
‘He’s done enough. You need to take him out of the equation. We both know that.’
‘Have you run that by anyone?’
‘Haven’t you heard?’ Lars said. ‘I finished sorting out where Black Force sits in the hierarchy. That’s what was taking so long in Washington. The upper echelon were beyond impressed by Mexico. We’ve been granted full approval. Now people run things by me.’
‘Congratulations,’ King said quietly. ‘We’ll celebrate when I get back.’
‘M
ake sure you do get back,’ Lars said. ‘With Reed out, you’re all this division’s got. It’s resting on your shoulders until we recruit more operatives. I’m sure you’re aware of that.’
‘It crossed my mind.’
‘So — I hate to say it, but don’t throw yourself into trying to track down Reed. If you can’t catch him — whatever. Don’t get yourself killed being unnecessarily reckless. We need you. You can do more good applying your talents to other operations than trying to stop a bent Force Recon Marine. By what you’re telling me, it sounds like he would have made a talented operative. It’s a damn shame. Don’t bite off more than you can chew.’
‘Is that an order?’
‘Yes.’
‘But I can use my own discretion?’
‘You’ve always been allowed to do that. That’s the point of this division.’
‘Then don’t question my choices,’ King said, suddenly barbed. ‘You’re sitting on a plane somewhere — I’m in no-man’s-land in Somalia. I’ll decide what the right move is, okay?’
‘Rough night?’ Lars said, surprisingly calm.
King paused, composing himself. ‘Yeah. Rough goddamn night.’
‘You beat up?’
‘Somewhat.’
‘Try and make it back in one piece. Do what you do best.’
King recalled the mental image of Victor and Johnson lying motionless at the peacekeepers’ compound, their injuries grisly and their limbs splayed. They hadn’t been anticipating betrayal of that nature. They had been doing their job, and their lives had been stripped from them because Reed wanted an illegal payday.
He could almost feel his own blood boiling.
‘There’s no way in hell I’m letting this guy get away,’ King said into the mouthpiece. ‘Respect my choice. I’ll contact you when it’s done.’
Before Lars could say anything, he ended the call. Beth shifted uneasily alongside him and he turned to see her pressed up against the passenger’s door, her chin drooped to her upper arm, using her own limb as a makeshift pillow. Her brow was furrowed and her skin clammy. After the incomparable adrenalin dump of a potential gang-rape, her energy levels had understandably crashed.
King said nothing, gently lowering the satellite phone to the footwell between her feet and turning his attention to the road ahead.
He realised his own energy levels were dissipating as the cortisol leeched out of his veins. With no immediate threat, and no sign of civilisation for dozens of miles in any direction, he found himself battling to simply keep his eyes open.
He slouched forward against the wheel once, then twice, then a third time. After the third attempt to stay lucid he slapped himself hard across the cheek, which set off the throbbing in his damaged nose all over again.
He instantly regretted it.
Beth stirred as the hollow slap emanated through the cabin, lifting her head and squinting through sleep-affected eyes. ‘You okay?’
‘Yeah,’ he said, masking a wince. ‘Go back to slee—’
Then it appeared on the side of the trail ahead, illuminated by the faint glow of the semi-tractor’s headlights. From this distance it seemed like an administrative building three storeys tall had been dropped in the middle of the desert, but King knew better.
‘On second thought,’ he said. ‘Don’t. This is our cue.’
He let the semi-tractor approach the Liebherr haul truck with reserved caution, expecting an ambush at any moment. If he were Reed, he would elect to burrow into the undergrowth all around the abandoned vehicle, lying in wait for King to arrive before putting a bullet through his head under cover of darkness. He checked the weaponry he had available — the Kalashnikov AK-47 he’d snatched off the semi-tractor’s previous driver, and Beth had her M45 pistol in its holster.
‘He could still be here,’ King muttered.
She nodded, eyes wide, searching the dimly-lit land around the haul truck for any signs of life. She slid the M45 out of its holster and switched the safety off in one practiced motion.
King brought the semi-tractor to a halt directly behind the haul truck. He killed the engine and the lights simultaneously.
Their surroundings plunged into complete darkness.
He doubted Reed had prepared enough in advance to somehow acquire night-vision goggles.
‘Let’s go,’ he breathed, his tone near-silent.
Together, they swung the cabin doors open and slipped out of the relative safety of the cabin.
38
King spent a long, drawn-out moment entirely frozen by the side of the dirt road, tuning his ears to any imperceptible shift in the atmosphere, listening intensely for any sign of Reed.
None came.
He let the silence reach an uncomfortable length. Beth had evidently followed suit, for he heard no sound of movement from her side of their vehicle.
If Reed was here, he would be squirming on the spot, confused by the loud appearance of the tractor unit followed by the uncharacteristic silence and darkness. He would have been expecting King to advance noisily over to the haul truck, but it was like they had never showed up in the first place.
When the night had enveloped them entirely and King was sure he had seized the upper hand by way of sheer unpredictability, he raised the AK-47 in one swift motion and unloaded ten blistering rounds into the nearby undergrowth, sweeping the barrel from left to right. He screamed at the top of his lungs simultaneously, a berserker-like roar that echoed across the plains. Altogether it created a cacophony of noise that erupted out of the night. If Reed was buried in the bushes, he would almost certainly be shocked into returning fire, possibly thinking a small army had descended on him.
King hit the dirt, flattening down on his stomach, anticipating some kind of retaliation.
None came.
With his ears ringing and his pulse pounding, he waited a few long moments and concentrated hard on picking up any kind of movement in the brush.
‘We’re clear,’ he said after a beat of observation. ‘He’s long gone.’
Beth took her time to respond, her voice drifting across from the other side of the tractor unit. ‘What the absolute fuck was that?’
‘I needed to see whether Reed was here.’
‘You almost gave me a heart attack. In fact, I think you did.’
‘You’re still alive, aren’t you?’
‘Yes…’
‘That’s all that matters. I’ll gladly look like an idiot if it draws him out of hiding.’
‘You sure he’s gone?’
‘Yeah. Let’s check out this truck.’
He was ninety-percent certain that Reed had switched vehicles instead of needlessly waiting for King to catch him, but he found himself glad that he’d made sure. Now he swung back into the tractor unit’s cabin and twisted the headlights back into action. The two white beams cut through the night in piercing detail, lighting up the Liebherr in all its glory. Now that he could concentrate on the task at hand, King noted that the haul bed’s front was raised straight up in the air. It had been lifted via a mechanism and the contents unloaded across the flat dirt patch behind the truck.
Or, at least, most of the contents.
‘Oh my God,’ Beth muttered, as the remnants of the haul bed’s payload appeared before them.
King hadn’t noticed originally, but Reed had transferred the cargo in a hurry, simply leaving some of it where it lay. What was left behind spoke volumes regarding the sheer scale of the operation at the Afgooye compound.
He cast his gaze over bundles of U.S. dollars, scattered intermittently across the ground in front of their tractor unit. Twenty thousand dollars here, fifty thousand dollars there. Still perched on the tractor unit’s step, he spotted a few clusters of the bills that had cascaded down the shallow slope into the undergrowth he’d fired upon moments earlier. Those bundles seemed larger in size — each of them at least one hundred thousand USD.
All in all, King estimated that Reed had been in such a hurry to lea
ve that he’d abandoned several million dollars in his haste.
‘Unbelievable,’ he said. ‘You think he’d be so careless? Seems like a set-up.’
‘Unless this is nothing in comparison to the bulk of the money,’ Beth said. ‘What if the entire haul bed was full?’
King stared up at the haul bed tilted towards them, hovering ominously in the sky like a giant’s bathtub. He paled as he spotted a thin coating of more hundred-dollar bills littered across its floor. Another million, maybe more. Just sitting there for scavengers to help themselves to — all because Reed didn’t feel like loitering a few minutes more.
‘That would be billions,’ King said. ‘That’s not possible.’
‘Says who?’
‘I mean…’ King started, but he couldn’t fathom the scale of what Reed had done. ‘Why would they keep that kind of money on the premises? That’s the stuff of empires. That’s how entire countries are founded.’
‘You saw the size of the operation,’ Beth said. ‘There’d be billions and billions in profits if you apply that to an extra-legal ring stretching across Africa. You know how much money is in the shipping industry alone? It’s staggering.’
‘And they’d leave it in a haul truck for anyone to waltz in and take?’
‘From what you’ve told me,’ Beth said, ‘it seems like they had it heavily guarded. That didn’t stop Reed.’
‘You think they’d keep it all in one place?’
‘Maybe it’s not all in one place. Maybe they have dozens of these trucks.’
‘That’s unfathomable.’
‘What else are they going to do with it? It’s money they’ve made by skirting around the existing system. They can’t deposit it in banks. They can’t do anything with it but hoard it in gross quantities. Reed must have smelled opportunity and taken advantage of it.’
‘Which brings me to my next point,’ King said. ‘What the hell is Reed going to do with it?’
‘Hoard it for himself?’ Beth said. ‘I’m not following.’
‘How’s he going to do that? There must be an endgame to all of this. If he has over a billion dollars in undeclared cash, he’s facing the same problems the people at Afgooye were. He can’t dump it in a bank. I’d say he switched it to a smaller truck with an attached trailer — but then what? He can’t drive around Africa avoiding authorities forever.’