Sabotage

by C. G. Cooper

  Cal unfolded the paper and read,

  The two visitors you are looking for are in the temporary lodging. Get them out of here as soon as you can.

  He handed the piece of paper to Daniel, and after the sniper had read it, he handed it to Dr. Higgins.

  Higgins looked up from the paper. "Well, I’d say we have quite the mystery on our hands.”

  Chapter 14

  They'd been waiting around all day for word from Sergeant Peabody, and MSgt Trent was starting to get cabin fever.

  "Come on, Gaucho, let's take a walk."

  His friend looked up from the bed where he'd been watching reruns of I Love Lucy. They'd found a comfortable hotel with decent air conditioning, but the only entertainment they had was a flat screen knockoff that had only one working channel. So much for the modern amenities that had been listed on the hotel brochure.

  "We should stay here, Top. You remember what Peabody said: 'The streets aren't safe right now,' so I say we just lay low."

  Maybe it had something to do with his enormous size, but Trent wasn't good at lying low. He did what he had to, of course, but he'd rather meet a challenge head on than wait for the enemy to come to him.

  "Oh, you're just scared," Trent ribbed. "Come on. You're always saying you need some more excitement in your life."

  "I was referring to female companionship. Look what we do for a living, Top."

  Trent stood up from the armchair, and stretched. "Well, like it or not, I'm leaving. Unless you want me to get lost in this strange city, you'd better accompany me."

  Gaucho looked at Trent for a moment, as if he was wondering whether the Marine was messing with him or not. It was obvious that Trent had no intention of sitting back down. Gaucho groaned, and eased his body up off the bed.

  "You know, Top, the last time you convinced me to take a stroll in a strange city we got accosted by a couple of Filipino pimps who didn't like the way we were looking at their women."

  "That was just a little bit of fun."

  They picked a path that would take them down by the waterfront. Trent's thinking was that there would be a breeze coming from the ocean. Gaucho had fired back by saying that there had been plenty of breeze coming out of the air conditioner in their hotel room. Trent ignored the comment and kept walking.

  There definitely seemed to be more of a military presence on the streets, but they weren't hassling anyone that the pair observed. Most of the soldiers seemed to be bored, resting up against drab olive Humvees, weapons strung casually across their chests.

  They'd just passed a row of vendors yelling at each other about stealing customers when he noticed Gaucho’s body tense. Trent didn't have to ask what was going on as he doubled back right behind Gaucho when his friend suddenly began talking about forgetting his movie tickets back at the hotel. That was when Trent saw them too, a trio of soldiers leaning against the building, watching them with more than idle curiosity. They didn't even bother looking away.

  "I don't like it," Gaucho said when they were finally out of sight. "We should head back to the hotel and be careful about it.”

  But Trent was curious now, and without any answers from Cal and Daniel, or Gaucho's friend Sgt. Peabody, Trent figured it was time to do something.

  "Let's go back," Trent said.

  "Are you crazy?"

  "I'm a Marine, aren't I? Come on. Let's go."

  Gaucho turned around with obvious reluctance, but he set his jaw and followed his friend. The three soldiers weren't where they had left them, but after they made a couple more turns they did catch sight of them.

  The soldiers had taken up a casual walk, maybe fifty feet behind Trent and Gaucho, once again making no attempt to stay hidden. Trent had been in enough cities to understand the general layout, to know that all mazes have their certain commonalities, so he took his time like he was just taking a casual stroll through a new town. He established the persona of the country mouse coming to the city for the first time. He was all wide-eyed and ogling the sights. He finally convinced Gaucho to start talking again, and the two slipped into an easy conversation talking nonsense about the pretty buildings and the wonderful smell of the food coming out of the restaurants.

  It wasn't long before Trent found exactly what he was looking for, and he took a sharp right turn after a shawarma café.

  "It's a dead end, Top," Gaucho hissed as they entered the long alleyway.

  "Come on. I've got something to show you," Trent said excitedly, now hurrying his steps for the first time. When they got to the end of the alleyway, Trent slapped the concrete wall and said, "Oops, my bad!”

  When he turned to make his way back out, there stood the three soldiers that had been following them. Top walked toward them with an incredulous Gaucho at his side. Trent kept his long limbs loose, trying to appear as nonthreatening as possible, still chatting happily. When the soldiers were ten feet away, he stopped as if he had just noticed them for the first time.

  "Oh, hey, there, fellas. Y’all wouldn't by any chance know where I could find a Starbucks, would you?"

  None of the three answered the question, but Trent could see that they were gripping their weapons a little bit tighter.

  "How about a McDonald's? I guess I could settle for one of them McCafes."

  Still no response from the soldiers. He looked down at Gaucho. "Well, I guess we'll just have to go find it ourselves," he said sadly. That's when the three rifles came up.

  "You are wanted for questioning," the middle man said.

  "Who, me?" Trent asked in mock surprise.

  "You are wanted for questioning," the soldier repeated.

  "Well, I'll be. You know, my travel agent didn't tell me that we were going to have a welcoming party when we got to Djibouti City. Did they tell you?" he asked Gaucho.

  Gaucho shook his head, but kept his eyes locked on the three soldiers.

  "Well, I hate to tell you this, gentlemen," Trent said, "but I've got a date with a latte, and neither heaven nor hell will keep me from breaking that engagement. So if you’ll excuse us —”

  There was not even a blink from any of the soldiers; they appeared unaffected by Trent’s tactics.

  "Ah, I know what this must be about." Trent grabbed Gaucho's hand. "You think that because we're American, we're on a date or something. Is that it?"

  Stone-faced stares from the soldiers was the response. They did not appear amused.

  "Well," Trent continued, "I've got to admit, you three are some crack detectives, because you got us. You really caught us red-handed. We were just going to go to a local establishment and do a little dancing. But since y’all said that we need to come in for questioning, y’all wouldn't mind if we got in a little dancing right here, would you?"

  Gaucho squeezed his hand as if to ask, "What the hell are you doing?"

  Trent squeezed it back hoping that his friend would just stay cool.

  "Come on, honey," Trent said to Gaucho, "Let's show them a little Ring Around the Rosy."

  Finally, recognition registered in Gaucho's eyes, and he reached around and grabbed Trent's other hand. The three soldiers stiffened.

  Trent said, "Don't worry, we're not armed. We’re not the type, I promise."

  Gaucho raised their clasped hands to show their empty waistbands.

  "Now, here we go. Are you boys watching? Ring around the rosy, pocketful of posies," Trent sang as he and Gaucho started to turn slowly, gradually increasing their speed as Trent continued singing. He spied, out of the corner of his eyes, the three soldiers were watching, but he wasn't sure if they were mesmerized or incredulous. Trent kept singing and the dynamic duo kept twirling.

  "Ring around the rosy, pocketful of posies."

  Trent squeezed Gaucho's hands hard and his friend hung on. The huge Marine took three more hard planted steps and suddenly Gaucho was airborne. Trent flung him with all his might toward the three soldiers who, as Trent expected, raised their muzzles to the sky to block the incoming missile. Gaucho slammed
into them, and there were yelps from the downed soldiers. Trent was quick to pounce, slamming one in the nose with his left fist, quickly followed by knocking the other one in the temple with his right elbow. Gaucho had already taken out the third. The two friends rose to admire their handiwork.

  Trent motioned down the alley and said, "Why don't we drag these boys out behind that dumpster over there? I'd love to know what they have to say about this mysterious general who's hell-bent on kicking America's ass."

  They dragged the three bodies to the end of the alley and waited for them to regain consciousness.

  Chapter 15

  The interrogation had been short, but fruitful. Top and Gaucho learned that the three soldiers weren't soldiers at all. Only one man could actually speak English, thus the most MSgt Trent could gather was that the three men were some kind of low-level militia. Thus they knew how to take orders, and that's what they'd been doing. They'd been paid to put on the uniforms in order to augment the military presence on the streets of Djibouti City. A bonus had been promised for every foreign military-looking man brought in. Priority was given to English speakers. Top and Gaucho had just been in the right place at the right time.

  Top might have felt bad for them except earlier in the day he was standing on the wrong end of an automatic weapon. At least now he felt like things were going somewhere. They didn't have a name, but they did have a location. The English-speaking man in uniform had described it as a warehouse or storage facility that was serving as their assigned center of operations.

  After they'd gotten what information they could from the fake soldiers, MSgt Trent ordered them to strip down to their underwear. Using the men’s handcuffs and gagging them with their T-shirts, they were restrained.

  Top tossed the restrained men into the dumpster and told them to be quiet. Then he promised that they would return to release them out of the makeshift cell, but only if the captors behaved. While Top would have loved to take the weapons with them, there was no way they could carry them inconspicuously on the streets. So he ejected the magazines and rounds in the chambers and tossed the weapons into the dumpster. They took the ammunition, of course, and deposited it in various trash cans on their way to the warehouse.

  "You think it's a good idea to leave them back there?" Gaucho asked as they left the alleyway.

  "Not much else we could do with them. As Gunny Highway used to say, "We must improvise, adapt, and overcome."

  Gaucho shook his head. "How come you Marines have so many one-liners?"

  Top grinned down at his friend. “Oh, you know, it's just practice for when we steal all the pretty girls from you dog-faced Hoo-ahs.”

  Gaucho rolled his eyes and they walked on.

  It was getting darker now, but in MSgt Trent's estimation the temperature hadn't dropped a single degree.

  They kept going until they reached the roughest section of the city that they'd visited yet. There were more curious glances now because the ranks of the foreigners had thinned out blocks before.

  “What's your plan, Kemo Sabe?" Gaucho asked. "Just you and me against the world?"

  "Naw, I thought that maybe we could play like door-to-door salesmen. What do you think we should sell, encyclopedias or those knives that you never have to sharpen again?"

  "You're kidding, right?"

  "I guess you'll just have to wait and see." Then, after Gaucho had a moment to digest that morsel, Trent said, "But seriously though, let's play this by ear, get eyes on, and see what we can find out. I mean, if they'd really wanted to do us some harm, they would've shot us."

  "Is that what that whole Ring Around the Rosy thing was about? I know you Marines are crazy and all, but that one took the cake, Top."

  "Just don't go around saying it was your idea, Hombre."

  "You don't have to worry about that. Nobody would believe me anyway."

  Top was about to reply when Gaucho pointed with a motion of his head.

  "That looks like the spot."

  It matched the description the soldier had given. The only problem was, there didn't seem to be any activity occurring around the rusted out building. They did one full loop around the property, half expecting to be ambushed by a platoon at any point. The only person they encountered was a little old lady with gray hair that cascaded down her chest, mumbling to herself as she shuffled along. She didn't seem to notice them so they walked on. There was a small truck court on the other side, but the only thing it contained was an old two-wheeled beater up on concrete blocks.

  "Place looks deserted," Gaucho said. "You think they told the truth?"

  Top shrugged. "Maybe, anything's possible. I believe those boys believed they were telling the truth."

  "Yeah, I think you're right."

  "Well, I've taken it up to this point. What do you think we should do?" Top asked.

  “Since we're here, why don’t we take a look inside? That door on the other side shouldn't be too hard to jimmy open," Gaucho said, motioning back the way they'd come.

  "See? I knew you'd find your sea legs."

  As they made their way closer to the door, there was still no noise. The night suddenly felt eerily quiet, and Top wondered if he should call his friend off. Gaucho was already examining the lock on the weather-beaten door when the skin on the back of his neck started to tingle. He looked in every direction, but didn't see anybody watching. He was just about to ask Gaucho if he was feeling the same tingling sensation when off to the side someone said, "Psst."

  Both of them snapped their heads in that direction; it was the little old woman with the white stringy hair.

  "You think she's talking to us?" Trent inquired.

  "Who else?" Gaucho whispered.

  "Psst," the old woman said again, this time motioning with her hand for them to come over.

  "It could be a trap," Gaucho said.

  "Come on man, she's just a little old lady. You think they'd put her out here to lure in unsuspecting Americans? Maybe she's seen something. Let's go talk to her."

  Trent waved back to the old woman, who shuffled backwards into the shadows, almost but not completely disappearing into the gloom. When they reached the small alcove, the woman was waiting, her hands clasped in front of her.

  "Ma'am, can we help you with something?" Trent asked politely.

  The woman didn't say anything, her face obscured by her hair. Without saying anything, she was starting to give Top the creeps.

  "We should go,” Gaucho insisted.

  The old woman's head turned. She must've been taking in both men behind that curtain of hair.

  "Didn't anyone teach you not to talk to strangers?" the woman asked in a low Southern drawl.

  "You son of a—Peabody, is that you?" Trent asked.

  The old woman's hands reached up, parted her curtain of hair, revealing Sergeant Elliot Peabody's grinning face.

  "Surprise, ladies,” he said.

  Top was at a loss for words. First the shifty character he'd met at the hotel and now the old woman – he felt he was losing his tactically trained mind.

  Peabody answered his unasked question. "Didn't Gaucho tell you that I was a drama major at NYU?" He stood up to his full height and bowed regally. "Thanks to the powers that be, now I get to act full time. You want to tell me what you two are doing here?"

  "Same thing as you," Gaucho said.

  "How did you find this place? I had to spend close to twenty grand just to get into the neighborhood."

  Gaucho pointed to Trent, and Trent quickly explained what had happened with the three soldiers. Peabody let out a low whistle.

  "Hey diddle diddle, right up the middle. Isn’t that what they say in the Corps, Top?"

  "You got it."

  "Well, those crack troops were only half right. Your timing's pretty good though; I was about to call to give you an update. Here's the deal: This building is just a temporary collection point. From what I’ve gathered, they've got a couple of these scattered around the city. This is the only one I
've personally had eyes on, but I've got some friends watching the others. Same deal with each building. They bring in people, two to three at a time, for questioning, but they never really question them. They just load them on a bus and when there's enough to go, they take the bus to a different locale."

  "Where does the bus go?" Gaucho asked.

  "I was just getting to that, if you’d let me continue,” Peabody stated in mock annoyance. “Turns out that someone's established a hasty army campground just outside the city. As it was described to me, it looks more like a POW camp, so my best guess is that that's where they're doing their “questioning.” It all seems to be pretty cordial. No fights that I’ve seen, and everybody came pretty willingly. But the compliance was mostly due to the guns pointed at their backs."