by Alex Lukeman
Carter stopped pacing. "We can’t cover everything. Let’s make some assumptions."
"Assume away."
"Assumption number one is they're making for the coast to offload to a ship somewhere. Like Steph said. Number two is that it sounds like this operation has been planned for some time. So there’s some kind of timetable for pick up and delivery of whatever they've got. If I were planning something like that, I’d factor in extra time to make sure delays didn’t throw off my schedule."
She nodded. "Makes sense. What’s assumption number three? You have a three?"
"Number three follows on two; if they left extra time, we still have time to intercept that shipment."
"If we can find it."
He paced. "If I’m them, how do I stay out of sight until it’s time for the transfer to a ship off the coast?"
Selena picked it up. "Avoid populated areas and places where there’s a military presence."
"Like borders and big cities."
Selena nodded. "Yes. I’d head overland before I got to the capitol. Steph said there’s increased security here and random roadblocks on the paved roads. The coastal road is the only route north and south and one of the few that’s paved."
"Which way would you go?"
She thought about it. "North. Senegal isn’t far to the south. That means border patrols, check points. Definitely north."
"Let's look at the map."
She reached into her bag and pulled out a road map of Mauritania. She spread it out on the bed. It wasn’t much of a map. There were only a few roads in the whole country.
"How far north?" he asked. Standing next to her, he felt her heat. Her scent was strong, sweat and a hint of something darker. He stifled the urge to pull her to him. This wasn't the time for that.
"I wouldn't go all the way," she said. "Same reasons not to go south. Heavy patrols and army the closer you get to Western Sahara. Relations between Mauritania and Morocco are bad up there."
"If I wanted to sneak out to a freighter off shore, I’d keep out of sight until it was time to make the transfer. Look at these islands past this spur of land, here." He put his finger on them. "This looks like a good spot. Places to hide. Access to the ocean. The rest of the coast seems wide open, exposed."
"We’re only going to get one shot at finding them, Nick."
"We have to make a choice. I say we head there."
Selena considered the map. "Let's get Steph to task surveillance on the area. Maybe we’ll get lucky."
Carter called Stephanie and filled her in.
"I think you're right," she said. "Up north. I can get you up there fast."
"How so?"
"I've made some arrangements. We're getting cooperation from Langley. I don't know why, but I'll take it. I think they know more about that shipment than they're letting on. Anyway, you'll fly up there. You'll be met with a vehicle and weapons. You'll be picked up after you signal for extraction."
"That's outstanding, Steph."
"I'm beginning to see how Elizabeth worked these things out. Watch your ass out there, Nick." She signed off.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
It was late afternoon the same day. The plane set them down in the desert a good distance north of Nouakchott, three kilometers from the coast. Carter's false beard itched. His back was sore and stiff. He wore a loose, sand colored shirt that fell to his knees, baggy pants and a skull cap that felt tight on his head. Selena had cut his hair and dyed his skin a light brown. As long as he kept his mouth shut, he'd pass.
They were met by a black man with a Toyota pickup. He didn't give his name. Carter didn't ask for it.
"There's a security roadblock, ten kilometers north," the man told them. "Before you get there drive west to the beach and follow it north. That will get you past the checkpoint. The tide's out, you can go a long way."
They dropped him at the road, where he climbed into a waiting car and went south. They headed north five kilometers, then turned west toward the coast.
At the Atlantic they turned north again and drove along the beach. The sun sparkled off the golden expanse of the ocean. A few ships were visible on the horizon. A constant roll of long swells broke on a deserted beach that looked like a brochure of unspoiled paradise.
In almost any other part of the world, a beach like this would be lined with tourists and hotels. But not here. Here it was worth your life to sunbathe.
Carter drove and thought about Africa. The colonial governments hadn’t left much behind when they pulled out. Mostly they'd left a legacy of exploitation and deep resentment, ripe soil for the seeds of radical Islam to take root.
Selena wore her scarf over her head. She'd put on sunglasses that hid her violet eyes. Carter longed for his Ray-Bans.
There was no sign of any government or army presence. There were no people on the beach. In spite of the natural beauty, the landscape felt hostile and suspicious, as if it were waiting for something to happen. Nick figured that was what the psych doctors called projection, but it didn’t change the feeling. He put his hand on the AK stashed next to the door.
They were in Indian Country. John Wayne wasn’t coming with the U.S. Cavalry to bail them out if they were attacked.
They came to a headland jutting out into the ocean like the prow of a great liner and followed a track to the top. They stopped, got out and stretched. No one was in sight. The sun formed an orb of reddish gold descending into a bank of black cloud on the horizon. Soon the light would be gone, but for the moment the view was breathtaking.
Nick lifted binoculars and scanned the area. From where they stood he could see far up the coast. The islands and coves they thought might hide the terrorists shimmered in a twilight haze. Fishing boats dotted the waters. Shacks stood in isolated clusters along the shore. Farther along, the rusting hulks of two freighters lay half submerged in the water, a reminder that the Atlantic wasn’t always so peaceful.
"We’re close," Selena said.
"They wouldn’t choose someplace with neighbors. Our best bet is a single building, a fisherman’s shack. They need a place to park the truck. We can eliminate anything that can’t be reached easily. No steep footpaths. Take a look."
He handed her the binoculars. She looked.
"Nothing stands out." She handed them back. "We start asking questions, we’ll stir up trouble. There are a lot of shacks along there."
"Maybe Stephanie's got something."
Carter took out his phone and punched in the code. He activated the speaker.
"Nick, where are you? Wait a minute, I’ll call up your GPS." They waited. "Okay, I’ve got you. I think I know where they are."
"You do?"
"We picked up heat signatures last night, just north of you. Six bodies, one truck, a secondary source, probably a cooking fire. You should be able to see a bay from where you’re standing. The land hooks around and comes back below you in a narrow stretch that leaves a channel out to the ocean. You’re right on top of it."
He lifted the binoculars. "I see it."
"There's a track out onto that stretch of land and a shack almost all the way to the end. It sits by itself, down near the water."
Nick scanned the bay. "I see it, Steph."
"There are no other vehicles in the immediate area. At night nothing moves there. It’s too dangerous. At the least it's a terrorist hangout. It could be them."
"Steph, we need to get out fast if there’s shooting. It will alert everyone."
"I can get the plane to you at first light, east of you. I’ll send you the coordinates. There’s nothing I can do before then. You have to get in, find out what’s in the truck and destroy it, if you think that’s right. Try and protect whatever was in the back of that cave."
"You want us to leap tall buildings too?" Carter said.
"If you need to." Stephanie's voice echoed from the other side of the ocean. "Whatever is necessary."
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
Al-Bausari finished the even
ing prayer and got to his feet. A sudden stab of pain made him gasp and clutch his side. He staggered.
"Teacher, are you all right?" One of his men scrambled to his feet and steadied him.
"I am fine, Aban. Just dizziness from standing too quickly."
Aban helped him over to a chair. Bausari gazed out the glassless window at the ocean and listened to the surf wash up on the beach. The sun was gone, the heat of the day fading. An ominous red afterglow lit the sky. A gentle breeze off the ocean brought with it the smell of salt and rotting fish.
Ghalib came into the room. "Teacher, the boat is ready."
"Good. The package? And the box from the cave?"
"Already on board."
"And the ship?"
"It is off shore. The ocean is calm. It will be an easy journey, Teacher."
"All journeys are easy with Allah’s blessing."
Al-Bausari rubbed his crippled hand. His men gathered in front of him. Aban and Ghalib would go with him. The other three would rejoin their brothers at the cave.
"Allah watches over us," Bausari said. "God willing, soon all the world will know of His Glory." He looked at the men who would stay behind. Faithful men, warriors for the Truth.
"I will not see you again in this life. But we will meet in Paradise."
"Ín'sh'allah," Aban said. Then he said, "Teacher, the tide."
Bausari rose. He laid his good hand on each man in blessing. He left the shack and walked to the shore without looking back.
The boat bobbed in the swell, a gray shape against the deeper dark of the ocean. Two crewmen from the freighter waited in the boat. The package sat low in the middle, a boxy, vague shape. Bausari waded through the shallow water, holding his white robe above the surf. Aban helped him into the small craft. The light was all but gone.
The boat disappeared into the gathering darkness.
CHAPTER THIRTY
It was full dark. The moon was rising, a vast orange globe on the horizon. Carter let the truck coast to a silent stop behind a cluster of rock outcroppings. The shack lay below, a hundred yards away. A weak light shone through a window. A truck with a canvas top was parked a little way from the side of the building. There was no movement about, but the light meant someone was there.
"You ready?" Carter slipped the safety on his AK.
Selena picked up her AK and tapped the magazine to make sure it was seated.
"How do you want to do it?" she said.
"Let’s get to the truck. That gives us cover and it's right next to the shack. I’ll scope out the inside through that window. If someone comes out and sees me, shoot him. That shack is made of dry wood. If we have to shoot from outside, spray the walls at waist height. These AKs will cut right through. Give them the whole magazine, reload, and we go in through the door."
"And if no one comes out?"
"Then I see what I can through the window, I come back to the truck and we think it through."
They approached through the darkness. Carter's body buzzed with adrenaline. He heard the muffled sounds of their feet on the hard ground, the surf hissing against the shore, the breeze rustling over the ocean. The faint sound of Arab music came from the shack. Overhead, stars filled the sky. If one had fallen, he would have heard it.
They made it to the side of the truck and crouched by the rear bumper.
"Sudanese license plate," she whispered. "It’s the right truck."
"Cover me." He crept to the window and risked a glance over the edge.
There was only one room. Three men sat at a table playing a board game and talking. The music came from a small battery powered radio. One man smoked a cigarette. A bottle of fruit juice stood by the radio. Assault rifles were close by each man. A kerosene lantern provided light. Beyond, an open door revealed the shore and water.
He went back to Selena, squatted down beside her.
"Three men with AKs. They’re sitting at a table. We can take them through the window."
"Bausari?"
"He’s not there. No box or containers, either."
"What if this isn’t the right place?"
"Do you believe that?"
"Not really, but we’re not certain. We can’t kill them."
"Why not? They’re sure as hell not fishermen. You said yourself it’s the right truck. Sudanese plates? That’s too much of a coincidence. What do you think we should do?"
"If Bausari was here, they know where he went. We should interrogate them, find out what they know."
"There are three of them and two of us. They have AKs in reach. What makes you think you can get them to cooperate?"
"Something I've learned from you is that looking at the wrong end of a rifle does wonders for attitude."
"I don’t like it. We go through the door, it gives them a chance to grab those weapons."
They might have talked it out some more but the decision was made for them. One of the men stepped outside. He walked a little way from the shack, set his rifle down and urinated. As he turned back he saw them. He shouted and lunged for his weapon.
Carter shot him. Shouts came from the shack. A long burst of fire came through the window and ripped through the canvas of the truck that shielded them. Rounds hammered the body, sending bits of metal and glass flying. Carter and Selena's rifles danced in their hands as the magazines emptied.
The walls of the shack splintered. Rays of light streamed out through holes made by the rounds. Carter heard screams. He shoved in another magazine and kept firing. When that one was gone, he reloaded and waited. Selena had stopped shooting.
The bullets had shattered the lamp on the table and blown flaming kerosene around the room. A broad tongue of yellow fire licked up the inside of the shack.
"That will bring everyone here in a hurry. Time to haul ass, Selena."
She hurried to the back of the truck, lifted the canvas. "Nothing there. Okay, let’s go."
They ran to the Toyota and jumped in. He started the engine, threw it in reverse, turned the wheel, hit first gear and bumped over the track leading away from the burning shack. Dark figures ran toward them and dove out of the way. Someone fired at them. Nick reached the highway, took a hard right and sailed past a pickup truck filled with armed men going the other way. In the glare of headlights he saw them staring as they went by. In the rear view mirror he saw their brake lights come on.
"They're stopping." Nick looked in the mirror. "Turning around."
"Go east. Get off the highway." Selena pointed.
Along this stretch it was flat and level and there wasn’t much difference between the road and the desert. He spun the wheel and turned into the empty land.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
Carter cut his lights. The moon threw cold, beautiful light over the desert. The random rock outcroppings looked like alien creatures surfacing from a silver, shadowy sea. The headlights behind had turned off the highway, coming after them.
The wheels whined over the hard packed sand. The ground dipped. They drove into a depression, toward an outcropping of rocks thrust up from the desert floor. For a moment they were out of sight.
"We have to make a stand." Carter shouted over the noise of the engine. "If they catch us in the open we’re finished."
Selena inserted fresh magazines into the AKs. Tip to the front, catch the edge. Rock back, lock in place. It felt like it was getting to be second nature.
Carter slewed to a stop at the rocks. A sudden glare of headlights bounced over the edge of the depression and caught them. He threw open the door and hit the ground.
Selena emptied a magazine at the truck. It kept coming. Wild bursts of fire came from the back of the pickup. Bullets whined from the rocks and sent sprays of stinging sand into the air. Something cut Nick's cheek. He fired quick bursts at the truck, trying to pick out targets.
The windshield of the truck shattered. It veered, then straightened and kept coming. Two men fell from the back. The passenger door opened and a man leaned out with a rifle. Selen
a shot him. Carter jammed in another magazine and concentrated on the truck.
There was a bright, orange flash and a loud explosion. The truck lifted into the air in a cloud of fire, tossing bodies like a dog shaking fleas. The wreckage came down in pieces on the moonlit sands.
The crackling sound of flames from the burning vehicle broke the silence of the desert night. They stood up.
A trickle of blood ran down his cheek. He dabbed at it with his sleeve.
"They weren’t very smart, were they?" she said.
"No. Lucky for us." He watched her, calm as if she were at a Sunday outing in the park. She's changing, he thought. She's not the same woman who walked into Harker's office a few months ago. He wasn't sure what to make of it.
Selena took out her phone, punched buttons and looked at the display. "We’re about eight miles from the pickup point. We need to head south east." She nodded in the general direction.
They went over to their truck. Two of the tires were flat, the glass was shattered and oil pooled on the ground underneath. Bullet holes riddled the cab. The Toyota was finished.
"Well," he said. "Let’s hope nobody else comes looking."
"We’d better start." Selena slung her AK.
They walked in silence under the moonlight, under the stars.
After a while she broke the silence. "I was thinking about what you said, about vipers."
"What about them?"
"Vipers are instinctive. They don’t think. Terrorists think."
Carter said nothing.
"You don’t think there’s any justification for their actions? Like poverty and injustice? Anything that excuses their behavior?"
"There are billions of people in the world who live in poverty under unjust and corrupt regimes. A whole lot of them are Muslims who don’t blow up busses and schools and markets because they’re pissed off."
"No excuses? To the British, George Washington was a terrorist."