African Firestorm

by Craig Reed

  "Wish I had thought of that," Liam said.

  "Get him down the stairs and onto the boat. You have any smoke cans left?"

  "We each have one," Liam replied.

  "C-4?"

  "Three quarter blocks," Dante said.

  "Okay, give me the C-4. When you three get to the dock, make a smoke screen for the dock from anyone up here."

  Dante handed Tanner the three small blocks of explosives. "What about you?"

  "Covering our retreat. Move!"

  Dante and Liam dragged the half-conscious Hassan to the stairs. Danielle had already started down the wooden staircase, and they followed her.

  Gunfire erupted from the other end of the rock and made Tanner turn and run back to where he had left Stephen and Naomi. He reached them as both Naomi and Stephen fired in the direction of the house.

  "What’s up?" Tanner demanded when he joined them.

  "They coming," Naomi said. "And—"

  An RPG round streaked out of the shadows and struck the front face of the rock, missing the three by twenty feet. The curvature of the boulder prevented fragments from striking them, but the impact was enough to make their ears ring.

  "Just what we fucking needed," Naomi spat.

  "Fall back around the rock," Tanner said.

  After they had slid around their cover, He handed Naomi the C-4 Dante had given him. "When I say run, you two head for the stairs. Drop one of these on every landing, and set the timer for the first one at forty-five seconds and reduce each timer by fifteen seconds after that. When you reach the beach, head for the boat."

  "What about you?" Stephen asked.

  "I'll start after you when you two reach the top of the stairs."

  "Better be quick," Naomi said, setting the timers on the C-4.

  "I will be," Tanner said, stepping to the other corner of the rock. "Two, status?"

  "A third of the way down," Liam replied. "There's three sets of stairs and they're narrow — not designed for three people across. Hassan is groggy, but he's still combative."

  "I don't care if you have to shoot his kneecaps out and throw his ass down the stairs," Tanner said. "His guards are after us with at least one RPG launcher, maybe more."

  "Copy." There was a grunt and Liam said, "I’ll carry the bastard over my shoulder."

  "Tell me when you hit the beach." Tanner leaned out just enough to point his MP5 in the direction of the enemy. He saw several guards advancing and he fired. Two fell while the rest dove for cover. Before Tanner could shoot again, another RPG projectile slammed against the rock closer than the first one, staggering the OUTCAST trio.

  "They're getting better," Stephen noted.

  Tanner shook his head to clear it, then gripped his MP5. "Get ready to run."

  Naomi leaned out and squeezed off a well-aimed grouping. A gunman fifty yards away screamed and grabbed his stomach before keeling over.

  "Not yet," she said. "We need to give the others more time—"

  "There’s no more time," Tanner said.

  Naomi's jaw tightened. "No," she said, realizing that he was more than willing to put his life on the line, to wait up here providing cover fire for them until it was too late for himself.

  "Not this time. I won't be going down those stairs without you. I lost Chance because he stayed behind. I am not going to lose another friend."

  Tanner scowled. Chancellor 'Chance' Zanetti had been Naomi's lover and fiancé before he had died on OUCAST’s first mission, stopping a drone attack on U.S. soil carried out by Muslim fanatics. She hadn't talked about it much, but Tanner knew she still felt his loss.

  He sprayed lead in the direction of the enemy. "Get ready to run. I promise I'll be right behind you."

  She nodded, then handed Stephen the C-4. "I'll be waiting at the top of the stairs.”

  "Go!" Tanner fired off a long burst.

  Stephen and Naomi ran. Tanner let his MP5 dangle from its sling and grabbed a frag grenade from his harness. He pulled the pin and threw it as far as he could. He turned and ran for the stairs. He heard the grenade explode but didn't slow down.

  As she promised, Naomi was waiting for him. Stephen was already halfway down the first flight of stairs and as Tanner reached the top, he saw a block of C-4 against one of the rail supports.

  "Move!"

  Naomi gave him a quick smile and raced down the stairs, taking them three at a time. Tanner glanced at the C-4's timer and saw that it was down to thirty seconds. He started jumping down the stairs. There were three flights, with a landing separating each. Ahead of them, Stephen reached the next landing, stopping only long enough to activate the timer and place the charge against a rail support before continuing down.

  "Two to Prime," Liam said. "We're at the boat, deploying smoke."

  Naomi and Tanner reached the first landing almost at the same time. Tanner's eyes flicked to the timer as he raced past.

  Twenty-five seconds.

  The pair started down the second flight of stairs. Tanner could hear shouts at the top of the cliff.

  "Keep moving!"

  Gunfire erupted and he heard bullets strike the wooden stairs behind them. By now, Tanner's legs were screaming at him, his lungs were trying to take in more air than they could. His throat was dry and burning, his face was covered in sweat. He kept moving.

  Tanner heard the speedboat's engines start up. He look up and saw smoke forming near the dock, and a figure — probably Liam — standing there, throwing another smoke canister.

  In front of them, Stephen reached the last landing and dropped the last C-4 block.

  Tanner’s earpiece crackled with Liam’s voice. "Two to Prime! Multiple tangos coming down the stairs!"

  "Stay where you are!" Tanner spat. He and Naomi reached the last landing, neither slowing as they dropped down the last flight of stairs. More gunfire chased them from behind, this time close enough to splinter the railing near Tanner's arm. The close call spurred both OUTCAST operatives on.

  They were five steps from the beach when an explosion behind them lit up the night sky. Another blast, closer than the first, detonated as they leapt off the last steps. They landed on the beach.

  Sand flying, they raced after Stephen, who had a five-yard lead on them. They had only gone a couple of feet before a third explosion, closer than the other two, nearly knocked them off their feet and pelted them with splinters, stones and other debris.

  Tanner glanced behind him and saw that the staircase was almost completely destroyed. A few of the steps had avoiding being shredded, but not many, and anyone who had been on the stairs would have been torn apart by the trio of explosions. Black smoke — thick and heavy — hung in the air, along with the co-mingled stench of burnt wood and flesh. He could make out multiple figures on the cliff top, but none of them seemed inclined to continue the pursuit.

  He turned around and charged through the smoke, glad for the screen it provided in case there was a sniper on the cliff. After a few strides, Tanner found himself standing on the dock, clear of the main smoke cloud and. Stephen and Naomi were ahead of him, going for the boat.

  Liam was waiting for them. "Get onboard, quick. Police are on the way."

  "How's Hassan?” Tanner asked.

  "Dante's on top of things." Liam flashed a cruel smile.

  They ran for the boat and got on. The rest of the team was already aboard, including Dante, but he wasn't sitting in one of the seats. Beneath him, the body of Hassan struggled to get up from the deck. The former Secret Service agent looked annoyed.

  Tanner looked at Liam. "I didn't think you meant it literally!”

  Liam only grinned as Danielle put the boat into gear and sped away from the dock.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  Camps Bay, Capetown

  The safehouse included a basement that was cold, damp, and suitable to hold an important prisoner for interrogation. There was even a cell in one corner, but Tanner had decided to leave Hassan in the center of the main basement, hands and leg
s cuffed to a steel chair. The chair in turn was attached to one of the support columns by several strands of heavy-duty wire.

  It was nearly dawn when OUTCAST pulled into the safehouse's garage in a vehicle driven by Madelowski. The garage, built lower than the actual house, featured a passageway connecting it with the basement, each end hidden behind a steel door disguised as shelving. Once the still-hooded Hassan was cuffed to the chair they left him under the watchful eye of one of Mandlenkosi's nephews and went upstairs.

  Ashcroft had laid out a meal of breads, meats, cheeses and fruit on the dining room table. The retired spy was sitting at the kitchen table, reading a newspaper while listening to a police scanner. He looked up at the team and smiled.

  "A productive evening?"

  "Very," Tanner helped himself to an apricot.

  "Anyone need medical attention?"

  Liam raised his hand. “Shot of tequila, please.”

  Tanner looked at his people, all of whom shook their heads, then back at Ashcroft. "We're fine. Anything new on the police front?"

  Ashcroft glanced at his scanner. "I’ve heard the first officers on the scene use the words, 'war zone,' 'carnage,' and 'massacre' frequently until a senior officer got on the radio and told them to shut up. There were also calls for the fire department, and medical help. They have no idea what happened yet, but someone did suggest it was an attack by the same group that set off the car bombs."

  "Good," Tanner said. "What about Mandlenkosi and his Fire Team?"

  "No problems. They all got clear before law enforcement closed in. The police found the boat about ten minutes ago, but my friend reported it stolen yesterday evening."

  "Good," Tanner said, stretching with a yawn. "I want to talk to Hassan after he's had some time to stew."

  "In that case," Ashcroft said, "I suggest you all get some food, a shower, and some sleep. Mandlenkosi and I will keep an eye on things until then."

  * * *

  It was near noon by the time the team reassembled in the dining room. Ashcroft was still seated at the kitchen table, now reading a book, with the police scanner still on next to a tea set.

  Tanner took a seat on a stool at the counter. "Anything new?"

  "A few things," Ashcroft replied, not looking up from his book. "There's fresh coffee in the pot on the counter, sugar and mugs in the cabinet above and creamer in the refrigerator."

  Tanner got a mug from the cabinet. "How's our guest of honor?"

  "Hassan’s cranky, as can be expected. He’s been alternating between threats of decapitations to promises of eight figures if he's released. He's kept under constant watch by one of Mandlenkosi's nephews, and either Mandlenkosi or I check in on him every twenty minutes. With the exception of escorted trips to the loo, he's been in that chair."

  Tanner poured coffee into his mug. "What about the police?"

  "Still sifting through the bloodbath you chaps left behind. The confirmed death count is nineteen, but they're still finding body parts near the beach, along with what was left of a staircase to the dock, so I expect the count is higher. The Narcotics branch has been called in, and they're suddenly very cagey on the radio about what they've found. They use a modern digital trunking system but it’s not encrypted, which is why I still have this.” He glanced at the scanner before continuing. “I already have calls out to my contacts, so we'll see how that goes."

  "Anything from Hassan's organization?"

  "What organization?" Ashcroft asked, looking up at Tanner. "You've killed most of his best enforcers and what's left couldn't take over a children's birthday party, let alone Hassan's criminal operations. Most of his people are either lying low or looking to carve out their own little empire. They're not worried about Hassan."

  Tanner sipped his coffee. "I'm going to go down and talk to him."

  "Suit yourself." Ashcroft went back to his book.

  Danielle appeared in the dining room doorway. "Tanner, before you go, check this out."

  He followed her through the dining room and into a small study where she had set up her laptops and the data devices they had taken from the estate. Three laptops, wired together, competed for space on the desktop with a mess of CDs, thumb drives and memory cards.

  "What do you have?"

  “From the SeaStar database in the warehouse, I was able to crack the encryption and access the records. It appears that Hassan was acting as a middleman between the North Koreans, the Iranians and SeaStar. He was taking cargo from incoming vessels and putting it on SeaStar ships under his own company's manifest. I isolated several dozen cargoes over the last four years with links to the Chinese import/export company suspected to be a North Korean front for items on the embargo list. Seventy percent of the cargoes on the list end up in Iran, and the rest in Syria."

  "Any idea about what this cargo was?"

  "No, but there are correlations between the arrival of these cargoes and advances in the Iranian nuclear program. The cargo containers on the Northstar Venture were scheduled to be off-loaded in Doha, United Arab Emirates, a few days from now."

  "What about the stuff we grabbed from Hassan's estate?"

  "Most of it is just regular stuff. Hassan likes big-breasted blondes in his porn, his tax forms are so clean, you could eat off of them, and he has his groceries delivered. However," she pointed at one of the laptops. "That one has a very strong firewall and the entire drive is password protected."

  "Can you force it?"

  "That's the thing. I've probed the firewall and found that it's set up in such a way that three unsuccessful log-ins in a row will wipe the hard drive — and I mean wipe it, not just delete it. It’s programmed to write the drive full of dummy data, reformat and repeat three times."

  "So can you crack it?"

  "Given enough time, yes. But it could be days or weeks, with no guarantees I get it right. Would be much simpler if he'd give us the password."

  "I'll talk to him about that." Tanner put a hand on Danielle's shoulder. "Good work. Go get something to eat."

  * * *

  The basement was still chilly when Tanner and Stephen descended the stairs. A single overhead light provided the only illumination in the room. One of Mandlenkosi's nephews was on watch, carrying the short stabbing spear of the Zulu.

  Hassan still occupied the chair, his shrouded head flopped against his chest, but he raised it when he heard Tanner and Stephen's footsteps.

  "Who's there?" he demanded in accented English. "I demand to be released!"

  Tanner motioned to the guard to remove the hood. The African yanked it free before moving to stand in the corner of the basement behind Hassan's chair, the spear's long, leaf-head blade winking in the light.

  Hassan blinked in the sudden light. "Do you know who I am?”

  "You are a smuggler, a drug pusher, and a criminal," Tanner said, taking a couple of steps toward Hassan.

  Both Stephen and Tanner wore balaclavas over their faces, as well as long-sleeve shirts to ward off the basement's chill. In addition, Tanner wore sunglasses to hide his heterochromia. While he didn’t intend to kill Hassan if he didn’t have to, he didn’t need to worry about being identified by him and hunted down later, either.

  "Americans," Hassan spat.

  "Yes," Tanner said. "We didn't intend on black-bagging you, but after you tried to have us killed at the hotel, we thought it was time to have a talk."

  "I don't know what you're talking about."

  "We're not stupid, Hassan."

  "What do you want from me?" Hassan said, twisting in his chair. "Money? Name your price."

  "We're interested in something else," Stephen said.

  "Hassan became still. "Such as?"

  "Information," Tanner said, moving to Hassan's left. "We know you've been acting as a middleman between North Korea and Iran."

  Hassan snorted. "So?"

  "We know that you've been smuggling cargo into Iran from North Korea," Stephen said, moving to Hassan's right. "We have the data to prove at
least two dozen illegal shipments."

  "You can't prove anything!"

  "But there’s something special about the cargo currently on the Northstar Venture," Tanner said. "Something that caused you to send men to kill SeaStar's CEO and destroy the company database."

  Tanner saw a slight uncertainty in Hassan's eyes. "Where's your proof?"

  "Proof?" Stephen said. "We don't need proof, Kamal. We're not the police."

  "I can pay triple what you're earning right now," Hassan said, a tinge of fear setting in. "I'm just a businessman with connections to some very important people — people who are now looking for me."

  "Not interested," Tanner said. "What was on the Northstar Venture?"

  "Nothing that concerns you.”

  “Does keeping all of your fingers concern you?” Tanner asked matter-of-factly, removing a folding Kershaw knife from his pocket and clicking open the blade.

  Stephen continued after letting that sink in for a moment. "What is your connection with the Islamic Caliphate Army?"

  "Who?"

  "Why did you try and have us killed?" Tanner asked.

  "I didn't.”

  "Why did you send Wahid Tamrez to kill us?" Stephen said.

  "I did no such thing! My associate was there to do some business."

  "You sent at least a dozen men to kill us in the hotel," Tanner reminded. "I'd like to know why."

  They continued questioning Hassan, who replied with denials, threats and offers of money. They circled him, like sharks around a meal, firing off questions, Stephen asking several of them in Arabic. But Hassan kept his cool.

  After fifteen minutes, the sound of a phone made Tanner and Stephen stop. They looked around and saw a phone on the wall near the stairs.

  "Upstairs calling," Mandlenkosi's nephew said, pointing his spear at the ceiling.

  Tanner went over to the phone and picked up the receiver.

  "Sorry to bother you," Ashcroft said. "How's the interrogation going?"

  "He still has all of his body parts, and we still have a lot more that we want to know," Tanner summed up, looking back at Hassan, who quickly lost his smug look.