Sabotage

by C. G. Cooper

  "But why round up foreigners?" Top asked. "They've got to know word's going to get out, and the Djibouti government's going to have ambassadors breathing down their necks."

  "I've had some a while to ruminate on that question," Peabody said. "Shuffling up and down this street will give you time to do that, and the best I can figure is this is a preemptive strike. What if they're just clearing the streets of suspected operators like us so they can get about their business without worrying about someone messing with their plans from the inside?"

  "Couldn't they just declare martial law or establish a curfew?"

  "Sure, but that wouldn't give them real control. Just think about it. If you were about to pick a fight with the biggest dog in the yard, wouldn't you rather have that dog's puppies held on the sidelines as insurance, just in case?"

  Trent wasn't buying it. It sounded like a whole lot of hassle with very little reward.

  "Listen," Peabody continued. "I don't know who you all really work for, but I suggest you all watch your backs."

  "What do you mean by that?" Gaucho asked.

  "I've got a bad feeling about this one. You know when you think you're doing the right thing, but you're convinced that someone is manipulating your actions?"

  "Do you think the CIA is in on this?"

  "I didn't say that. What I did say is there are powers in play that we might not even know about, and we all need to be careful."

  "Roger that," Trent said, taking a step back in his mind. He was, as if on a chess board, mentally arranging the figures he knew to be in play. They included the mysterious general, likely the Djibouti government, the US, and maybe even the Chinese. Top didn't know what it all meant, but he knew how Peabody felt. The situation was like a cauldron of hot water; it kept getting hotter and was about to boil over. That's the feeling he'd had all day but hadn't been able to pinpoint until that very moment.

  "Okay then," he said. "What's our next move?"

  Before Sergeant Peabody could answer, four quick shots rang out from the end of the street, and Top felt rounds fly by. When he turned to ask Gaucho if he was okay, he saw that his friend was looking at the ground. Top's eyes followed Gaucho’s gaze, even while trying to pinpoint exactly where the shots had come from. Sergeant Peabody was laying on his back, the old woman's hair parted neatly down the middle. His eyes were wide open, and it was obvious he was dead.

  "Jesus,” Gaucho said.

  Trend didn't think; he just moved. He scooped up the thin, lifeless body and threw Peabody over his shoulder.

  Without any other options, Top and Gaucho did all they could do; they ran for their lives.

  Chapter 16

  The transient housing turned out to be rows of shipping containers converted into housing units. There was a strip of masking tape on most of the doors indicating exactly who was occupying each air-conditioned unit. Gonzales. Davis. LeFleur with the “F” crossed out and rewritten. They kept looking until they found one marked Guests x 2.

  Cal knocked on the metal hatch. A kid with an unbuttoned shirt answered the door. He looked like he'd just awakened from a deep sleep. He rubbed his eyes and asked, "Yes?”

  "I'm sorry to bother you," Cal apologized, "but we were wondering if we could talk to you and your friend.”

  After a moment’s hesitation, as the kid pondered a mental list of reasons to not allow the Americans in, the boy nodded, motioning them inside. The interior of the shipping container included a set of bunk beds, a two chests of drawers, and some empty foot lockers with the lids propped open.

  There was a tight-skinned older man lying down on the bottom cot. He sat up as the four entered. The boy said something to the old man and the old man nodded.

  "He understands English,” the boy said, “but he doesn't speak it very well. My name is Christian and he’s my grandfather.”

  “I’m Cal, and that's Dr. Higgins, Daniel, and this is Liberty.”

  Christian looked down at the dog and, obviously, hadn't noticed her before. "Can I pet her?" he asked, bending down and kneeling before Cal could answer, "Sure."

  Liberty was cautious at first but after a few strokes on her head, she curled in close to the boy.

  "This might seem like a strange question," Cal began, "but you may have met with two of our friends."

  "Here on the base?”

  "No, out there."

  The boy looked up from his kneeling position. His eyes were cautious now. "Who are your friends?"

  He’d discussed with Daniel and Dr. Higgins about how much they should divulge. They had no idea who these two strangers were. For all they knew they could be some locals trying to take advantage of the situation. They might have even had something to do with the plane being shot down, and now that Cal thought about it, who better to send in to do the negotiating than a kid and an old man? They would not appear to pose a threat and were sure to be let in.

  It was actually Dr. Higgins who answered first, stepping forward. "Christian, their names are Vince and Karl, and we believe they are in grave danger."

  The boy stood and Cal sensed the kid recalled the names. "How do you know them?" Christian asked.

  Smart kid. Don't give away too much too soon.

  The kid looked like he was going to clam up, but the grandfather walked forward, placed a hand on his grandson's shoulder and said something. There was a brief exchange, and Christian turned back to them.

  “My grandfather says we should trust you.”

  "That's completely up to you," said Dr. Higgins, “But why does your grandfather think you should trust us?”

  Christian's face scrunched up like he was trying to find the right words. "My grandfather, well, he has certain insights that he's tried to explain to me, but I don't completely understand. People come to him when they need things."

  "Is he an elder of some sort?"

  "The closest word I can come up with in English is Shaman but that's not really what he is, at least that's not what I believe he is. He doesn’t do magic, at least not that I’ve seen.”

  Dr. Higgins nodded like it was all such a natural thing. Daniel didn't seem concerned either, but then again, Daniel had the same sort of insights that Christian's grandfather seemed to have. It only seemed bizarre to Cal; he preferring living and thinking in black and white.

  “Did you see Vince and Karl? Did you see what happened to them?"

  Christian nodded. "We spent two days with them.” And then with a pained face, he went on to explain everything that had happened, from the surprise introduction at the small hut right up to when Vince and Karl were captured and taken away.

  Daniel asked, "Why didn't they take you two?"

  The boy looked at his grandfather and then back at Daniel. "As I told you, my grandfather is a special man. He commands a certain respect amongst our people. The Asian man wanted them to take us. He said we were a threat as well, but the soldiers wouldn't allow it. They thought my grandfather would put some kind of curse on them.”

  The grandfather nodded to accentuate the point, like he actually would do such a thing. Then he said something to Christian, who nodded and added, "My grandfather is the president's uncle. My grandfather now believes when the Asian man became aware of my grandfather’s stature and connection to the president, he decided not to press for our capture. There are strange things happening here, Mr. Cal, and my grandfather and I would like to help if you will allow us.”

  They didn’t have much to go on, but the help of a relative of the Djibouti president might come in handy. Hell, if they really got in a bind maybe the old man could cast a spell of protection on them.

  “The first thing we need to do is get off this base. Do you guys know of any place we can stay in town?" Cal asked.

  “I have some friends who could help not far from here.”

  "Okay, let's go. Do you need any help with your things?"

  Christian pointed to the backpack on the floor. "That's all we have.”

  They left quickly. Cal was co
ncerned about the commanding officer’s warning. What had it meant?

  They'd just passed through the front gate when one of the guards warned them, "If you're leaving, know you will not be getting back here for a while.”

  "Why's that?" Daniel queried.

  "Didn't you hear? They just put us on lockdown,” the guard responded.

  "Why?"

  "I don't know. Way above my pay grade, Mister. But if I were you, I’d hightail it to wherever you’re headed. Keep your heads down until you arrive at your destination.”

  Chapter 17

  Trent and Gaucho somehow made it back to their hotel alive. They bounced from shadow to shadow for what seemed like hours, and Trent carried Sergeant Peabody's lifeless form the entire way.

  The streets were empty now, and every building seemed to have its interior lights turned off. In stark contrast the street lamps seemed to be brighter than usual. They may have appeared brighter because no light emanated from the houses. Then again, it could have been just in their heads since they were trying to avoid capture.

  When they arrived at their hotel, the front door was locked. Gaucho peered inside, attracting the man at the front desk. He sauntered over to them, unlocking the door, casually holding a shotgun in his hands. He let them in without asking any questions, although he did look at the body Trent was carrying with mild curiosity. After taking a moment to stare at the body, he pointed with his thumb back toward the bar.

  The bar itself was only illuminated by a couple of candles, and Gaucho had the distinct feeling of having stepped back in time. Then he noticed the wounded. They were lying on the rows of couches that someone had brought down from the rooms.

  A woman looked up from where she was tending one of the wounded and inquired about Sgt. Peabody, "How bad is he hurt?"

  "He's dead," Gaucho declared, sorrow lacing those definitive words.

  The woman blinked once, nodded, and then said, "I'm sorry. You can put him over here if you'd like."

  She pointed to the far corner, where sheets were laid out on the floor like someone had expected the dead to come and be triaged. After laying Sgt. Peabody on one of the sheets and covering him up with another, Gaucho and Top returned to the woman who seemed to be in charge of the makeshift First Aid station. She was providing a shot of some dark liquid to one of her patients, and the man winced as he drank it.

  "I wish I had something else for you, but that will help you relax,” she was saying.

  The man nodded and then he closed his eyes. She stood up and spoke to Gaucho and Trent.

  "You're welcome to have some if you like," she said, meaning the bar. "The owner says it's on the house."

  "Well that's nice of him," Gaucho said sarcastically. The woman looked like she was going to say something, but didn't.

  Then she asked, "How did your friend die?"

  "He was shot."

  She thought about that for a moment. Gaucho thought she had a very striking face, like someone who used to model because their nose was angled in just the right direction.

  "We haven't seen any gunshot victims as of yet, so far only people that had been beaten. However, I’m sure they’ll come soon enough. Are either of you injured?”

  "Just some bumps and scrapes, Ma'am," Trent said, "We'll be fine."

  "Regardless, you should let me take a look at them."

  "Are you a doctor?” Gaucho asked.

  "I'm a nurse. My husband works at the State Department, and I was just in town to meet an old friend for a drink."

  "You picked some time to go out for a drink."

  "Well, I didn't know they were planning on declaring martial law."

  "Is that what happened?" Trent asked.

  The woman shrugged. "No one knows what is happening. One minute our lives were normal. The next minute our cell phones didn't work, TV stations were no longer broadcasting, and the only ones with any ability to communicate are the soldiers patrolling our streets.”

  "What about your husband? Have you been able to get in touch with him?"

  "Not yet. But he knows I can take care of myself. This isn't our first time in this type of situation."

  "Were you in the army?" Gaucho asked.

  "No. We've just had the good fortune of being posted to some of the world's best war torn metropolises. And here we thought Djibouti was on its way up," she laughed, "Maybe it's us? Maybe we're the bad luck?"

  Gaucho thanked the woman, and informed her they'd be back after cleaning themselves up - the shower was calling. Trent needed it the most since the majority of his shirt and cheek was covered with Sgt. Peabody's blood. They went up to their room to freshen up.

  Gaucho had just finished toweling off when he heard the pop, pop, pop of gunfire in the distance. He went to the window, half expecting to see pins of light. All he saw were the empty streets of Djibouti City. There were more sounds of gunfire followed by silence.

  "That's been going on ever since you got in the shower," Trent said from where he was sitting in the leather armchair, trying to get a signal on his cell phone.

  "We need to get hold of Cal. You think we can figure out a way to patch through Charlottesville?”

  "I'm sure Neil's working on it," Trent replied.

  Now it was Gaucho's turn to feel antsy. After seeing Elliot Peabody killed, he needed to do something. But what? They were stuck in the middle of a city in lockdown with little more than pistols and a couple of wads of cash.

  "Do you think we can get over to the embassy?" Gaucho wondered, aloud.

  "I'm sure they've got that place surrounded."

  Trent was right. Then Gaucho had an idea. It was a crazy idea, but—well, their options were limited. He told Trent what he was thinking, and Trent's eyes went wide.

  "And you were the one calling me nutso? Boy, we better have your head checked out once we get home."

  "C'mon, man. What else have we got?"

  "All right, fine. But if this thing goes south—”

  He didn't have to finish his thoughts. The implications were obvious. If it went wrong, they'd be dead. But Gaucho had never been in the business of playing it safe. He'd escaped his family's checkered past and then served in the most elite special forces unit in the world.

  To stack even more chips in his favor, he had his best friend, Marine MSgt Willy Trent on his side, and in Gaucho's mind there wasn't anything the two couldn't accomplish together, the Dynamic Duo.

  Chapter 18

  President Zimmer had met with the president of the Republic of Djibouti on several occasions. The man was friendly and, like President Zimmer, came from a long line of diplomats. He was a cosmopolitan and well-educated man, but Zimmer wouldn't necessarily call him a staunch ally. During his short time in office, Zimmer figured they'd established a good working relationship.

  It didn't hurt that the US military presence in Djibouti deterred any of their past enemies from making a play on Djibouti's strategic location. As the only permanent U.S. base on the African continent, the Republic of Djibouti was important for the United States as a whole, and for Zimmer specifically. So when the president's secretary said she was having a hard time getting the president of Djibouti on the phone, Zimmer was more than a little concerned.

  Reports were leaking out, and he'd already talked to the chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff regarding the lockdown status of Camp Lemonnier. He had pressed the CIA for information, but even they admitted any analysis, at this point, was mere speculation because rumors were running rampant at the US embassy in Djibouti. To make matters worse, he was suddenly unable to get hold of his own man on the ground, Cal Stokes. While he had first been annoyed that Cal had done an end run around his plans, Zimmer acknowledged that as the situation on the ground had deteriorated, Cal's instincts were correct. Now that he'd had a moment to think about it, why had he tried to stop Cal and his team from going to Djibouti?

  When the answer arrived, it was an uncomfortable one. Plain and simple, President Brandon Zimmer had tried t
o protect his own ass. It was an election year, and although no one had yet risen to challenge him personally, and the polls generally said he was an overwhelming favorite, he'd already seen what news stories could do to sway the public opinion. The governor of Texas had been caught completely unaware, and while he wasn't sure if Tony McKnight’s camp was behind the incident, President Zimmer could appreciate the fact that the congressman would take advantage of a flailing opponent. That defined politics after all — taking advantage when you could and watching your back at every step.