Alavi punched Taylor’s direct number into a disposable cell phone that he had purchased at an electronics shop in Freetown. It rang twice before someone answered. Alavi was somewhat surprised to hear Taylor’s growling voice on the other end.
“Major Taylor! This is Mohammad Alavi.”
“Mohammad! I see that you’re calling from a Freetown number. I wasn’t told you were in town.”
Taylor had paid informants installed at the major ports and airports across Sierra Leone. Most of them were government officials hooked on the extra twenty dollars a month that Taylor paid them to keep him apprised of any interesting developments.
“Let’s just say I am a little harder to recognize now.”
“Ah. What can I do for you?”
“Actually, Major, I’m here on behalf of our mutual friend,” answered Alavi, conscious that he was calling on an unprotected line. “He would consider it a personal favor if you would meet me face-to-face. I believe we have a great offer to present to you.”
“Where are you, Mohammad?”
“I’m at the Country Lodge Hotel in Freetown.”
The greed that filled Taylor’s voice vanished. “You know I don’t like Freetown. Corrupt cops and government officials would like nothing better than to arrest me on false charges.”
“Hence the reason why I made sure that the hotel was not downtown. Your security is always our priority, Major. I’m sure you know that.”
“Why don’t you come to my headquarters? I can provide you with transportation if you wish,” offered Taylor.
“Thank you for your offer, Major, but unfortunately, this is not an option. But I can give you my personal assurance that we’ll make your trip worthwhile. Just off the top of my head, I can think of about half a million good reasons.”
The lure of filthy lucre did the trick. “Is that so?”
“Besides, there is someone who would like to meet you,” added Alavi, playing on the Major’s need for praise from the highest ranks.
“Are you talking about our mutual friend?” inquired Taylor.
“Let’s just say that you’ll be quite happy that you made the trip.”
Craftiness slipped back into his response. “My schedule is pretty full. Even if I could make it, it wouldn’t be for a few days.”
“We understand that your time is very valuable, Major. Especially as we are here unannounced.”
Taylor sighed into the other end of the phone line. “I’ll see what I can do, Mohammad. I’ll call you in a few days to let you know when I’ll have time to meet you.”
“I’ll be waiting for your call. I know you have the number.”
Alavi heard Major Taylor hang up. Al-Nashwan and the Sheik were right in thinking that this man’s arrogance had reached new heights. Then again, Alavi knew that it was only a charade. He was sure that the major was already ordering his security detail to make the necessary preparations for a road trip to Freetown. In Alavi’s estimation, he would be in Freetown within thirty-six hours.
Although the trip was only four hundred kilometers, the roads in Sierra Leone were so bad that it would take Taylor’s Range Rovers a great deal of time to travel the distance. Alavi didn’t mind, though. He had a few finishing touches to complete.
CHAPTER 43
Freetown, Sierra Leone
There was no direct flight from New York to Freetown, so Mike Walton had to stop at Heathrow before continuing on to Sierra Leone. Eighteen hours after boarding his first flight at JFK, Mike emerged from Freetown’s airport terminal with his duffel bag. Even though he’d slept in the plane, nightmares had kept him stirring left and right in his seat. Images of Commandant Bleriot, the GIGN leader who fell in Antibes, and other deceased GIGN troopers had haunted him. Mike was tired, irritated, and eager to take a shower.
Jonathan Sanchez had given him the address for the house IMSI had rented. It had been leased for six months at double the asking price through one of IMSI’s shell companies. Mike didn’t know what to expect, but he was hoping that running water was one of the luxuries included in the price.
The water taxi was on time, and Mike managed to find a taxi at the ferry terminal and gave the driver an address. It took over an hour and a half to travel ten kilometers. Without air conditioning, the car was like a microwave, and Mike’s sweaty shirt clung to his body. As the taxi reached its destination, Mike gave the driver a ten-euro bill and exited the car as soon as it stopped. He swung his duffel bag over his shoulder and walked the short distance between the road and the beautiful white sandy beach.
The small house was located close to the traffic circle linking Lumley Beach Road with the Peninsular Highway. It didn’t look like much from the exterior, but Mike had stayed in worse dwellings in Kosovo. As long as it was secure, he could deal without the niceties of daily life.
I’m wondering if I can say the same thing for Lisa…I’ll know soon enough.
Just as he was going to knock on the door, it opened, unlocked from its electronic latch by the small device Lisa was holding in her hand. Mike stepped in, closed the door behind him, and looked around. The room had a dining table with four chairs stuck in a corner. Two cots had been placed next to it. One had been slept in while the other one had clean sheets neatly folded on its end. A faint aroma of coffee came from the minuscule kitchen on his left, and the door of the only bathroom was slightly ajar.
“Welcome to mi casa!” greeted Lisa.
“Thanks, honey,” replied Mike, genuinely pleased to see her. “I’ve missed you.”
“Same here,” Lisa said, getting up. She walked to him and was about to kiss him when she stopped suddenly. “Good Lord! You smell!”
Mike laughed out loud. “Yeah, you’re right.” He stripped off his sweat-soaked shirt. “It’s been a long freaking day. Is there a shower with running water in this shack?”
“Right in there,” Lisa said, pointing. “Heater doesn’t work, but you’ll be fine. Just don’t drink the water.”
Mike dumped his duffel bag on his cot before heading into the shower. His wife was right. The water heater didn’t work, and the water was somewhat cool. Still, in the heat it wasn’t so bad. He was out in less than five minutes and dried himself with one of the dishrags that passed for towels in this rental.
By the time Mike exited the bathroom, Lisa had closed her laptop and placed an M9 pistol on top of Mike’s duffel bag. Mike grabbed it, removed the loaded magazine, and racked the action open. He then carefully inspected the pistol before closing the action and reinserting a fifteen-round magazine.
“So what’s up?” Mike asked, peeking at Lisa’s computer screen.
“We’ve received our mission protocol from HQ,” Lisa replied. “Looks like the techies at the office managed to get a picture of Peter Georges for us.”
“Where did they get it from?”
“Don’t know; they didn’t say. My bet is that it was taken from the airport. They must have hacked into the security system and manually checked all the entries. Care to see our target?”
Lisa turned the laptop toward Mike and pressed a button, allowing the picture to expand to the full screen.
“I’ve seen this guy before!” exclaimed Mike.
“Where?”
Mike closed his eyes and processed the facial features.
“Got it,” Mike finally said. “His name is Alexander Shamrock, and he’s in the Army Special Forces. Last time I heard about him, he was somewhere in Africa.”
Lisa looked at him with wide eyes. “How do you know that?”
“Prior to joining the Special Forces, he was an officer with the 75th Ranger Battalion. I spent three months embedded with them prior to my deployment in Kosovo.”
“Oh yeah, Kosovo,” Lisa challenged. “That’s where you went while you were supposed to be training in Germany. Jonathan told me all about it.”
<
br /> Mike sighed. “I’m sorry, Lisa. I couldn’t say anything.”
“I know. Forget I said anything,” Lisa said. “Let’s concentrate on Shamrock instead.”
“Thanks,” Mike said, relieved. “Shamrock and I crossed paths several times.”
“And you remember his name, why?”
Mike’s face darkened. “Yeah, let’s just say that one night we got into an argument in the officers’ mess.”
“Anything I should know about?”
Mike considered the question a moment before answering. “Truth is, I don’t remember why. We were both drunk, I guess.”
“Do you want to call it in, Mike?” Lisa asked after a short pause.
“Yeah, I’ll call Mapother and see what he can find out on Alexander Shamrock.”
―
IMSI didn’t waste any time. Charles Mapother headed the research for information himself, and what he had found was a surprise.
“Are you sure Captain Alexander Shamrock was the man you saw in the picture?” asked Mapother, his voice loud and clear from the speaker of the secured sat phone.
“I’m positive, Charles. He’s definitely older, but it’s the same man I’ve spent time with in the Rangers battalion,” replied Mike. He waited through a pause at the other end. “You’re there, Charles?”
“I’m thinking, Mike. You see, Alexander Shamrock was KIA in Iraq years ago.”
“Maybe it’s another guy with the same name,” Lisa proposed.
“Was his father an oil executive, Mike? Do you remember?” asked Mapother.
Mike searched his memory for a minute before replying. “Yes, you’re right. Now that you mention it, I remember him talking about his dad being in the oil business.”
“Then it’s the same guy. There can be no doubt about it. I’m looking at the archives of a local Arizona newspaper, and there’s an article about the death of Steve Shamrock’s son, a captain with the United States Army Special Forces.”
Mike had to mentally shake himself. “What’s going on, then?”
“I don’t know. I’ll try to dig up some intel on this,” said Mapother. “In the meantime, I want you to track him. Alexander Shamrock or not, this man might be a link to the Sheik.”
And to my father.
“Mike and I will split up. That way we’ll cover more ground,” Lisa said. “What kind of support can we expect from IMSI?”
“Except for the equipment already in-country, not much, I’m afraid,” replied Mapother. “As you know, for logistical reasons, your support team won’t be able to reach you in Sierra Leone. HQ will try to access the phone lines in Freetown that are monitored by the NSA, but apart from that and hacking into the databases of the few hotels that have a computer system, you guys will be on your own.”
“We understand,” Mike said. “What do we do if we catch Peter Georges?”
“I would love to speak with him,” answered Mapother. “I’m curious about all this, and he might end up being quite resourceful.”
“Understood, sir,” Mike said. “We’ll keep you apprised of our—”
“Holy shit!” Mapother interrupted. “That was fast.”
“What’s going on?” asked Mike, surprised at his boss’s outburst.
“I think we got lucky. Jonathan has a hit on a Peter Georges who recently checked in at the Country Lodge Hotel in Freetown.”
Mike and Lisa were impressed. “How did he manage that?” Lisa asked.
This time it was Sanchez who answered over the speaker. “The Country Lodge is considered the best hotel in Freetown. It’s not luxurious in any way, but they have Wi-Fi and it’s not even password protected.”
“We’ll check that out, then,” said Mike. “We’ll contact you once we’re at the location.”
After hanging up, he said to his wife, “All right, partner. Pack up some gear and we’ll be on our way.”
CHAPTER 44
Alavi walked to one of the windows that had a clear view of the ambush site. As he had guessed, Major Jackson Taylor called back to let him know he was on his way. Alavi mentally calculated the time remaining before his target arrived. Probably another seven or eight hours, he estimated. He replayed his exit strategies in his head, glad that he had spent so much time reconnoitering the surrounding neighborhoods in the car he’d rented for that purpose and was keeping in the underground parking garage.
He hadn’t really considered what he would do if his IEDs didn’t explode. He reminded himself that none of the hundreds of bombs he had built had ever malfunctioned.
Alavi was daydreaming about future strikes he would lead against infidels when the cell phone he used to call Major Taylor started vibrating. He hesitated before answering. Nobody except for the major had that number. Alavi didn’t even know it himself. It must be Taylor calling back.
Alavi answered the phone.
“Mohammad?” asked Major Taylor.
Alavi breathed a sigh of relief. “Yes, Major.”
“We’ll be there in about two hours.”
“Perfect. Everything will be ready. Are you traveling with your usual vehicles?” asked Alavi as nonchalantly as possible.
“Of course,” snapped Major Taylor. Then, before Alavi could end the conversation, he added, “Why would you ask?”
Alavi winced. He hoped he hadn’t compromised his opportunity for success by asking one question too many. Yet, he’d only made two bombs, plus the little backup.
“We want to make sure the hotel’s employees treat you with the respect you deserve during your arrival. I’ll let them know to expect a VIP.”
“Good idea, Mohammad.”
“See you in a couple of hours,” said Alavi, hanging up.
The three cell phones he would use to activate the IEDs were already placed next to a pair of binoculars by the window he would use to spot his targets. The numbers he needed to dial to activate the IEDs were programmed into the cell phones; Alavi needed only to press one button to get the fireworks going.
He looked at his watch and decided he still had enough time to do a quick walk to the ambush site and make sure that his IEDs were still perfectly hidden. Heading outside to walk along the unpaved road, he was happy to see that the dirt around the IEDs was undisturbed. The Claymore-type IED was also still in position.
Back in his hotel room, after stopping at the front desk to return the soaked umbrella he’d borrowed before heading out, Alavi began packing his luggage. Major Taylor would arrive within the next hour, and he wanted to be ready to flee the area the moment Taylor had been taken out. He had already scouted the large metal trash bin where he would leave his luggage and where it would surely be stolen within a matter of minutes.
Once packed, Alavi set his mind to clearing the hotel room. Sierra Leone’s police force wasn’t known for being efficient, but Alavi took precautions anyway. He put on a pair of surgical gloves to reduce the risk of leaving fingerprints and wiped his entire room clean with a towel. As a final precaution, he tucked the coffee cup he’d been using into his luggage and took the cutlery off his room-service tray. He slipped the fork, tongs up, into his pants pocket, and slipped the steak knife into his waistband. He doubted that Freetown’s police department would be advanced enough to trace DNA through saliva, but he refused to take any chances.
Satisfied that everything was in order, Alavi grabbed his binoculars and positioned himself in a way that allowed him to clearly observe the ambush site. The final countdown had started; Alavi wouldn’t leave his post until his task was complete.
―
Omar Al-Nashwan was pleased to see that Alavi had taken all the steps necessary to ensure a successful mission. It was now Al-Nashwan’s turn to do his part.
He unzipped the bag that had been given to him by the Sheik’s contact in Freetown. From inside the reinforced duffel bag, Al-Nashwan took out two
Chinese weapons, a QSZ-92 pistol and a QBU-88 sniper rifle. The People’s Liberation Army currently used both types of weapons, and Al-Nashwan had received advanced training on them while he had attended the US Special Forces Q Course in Fort Bragg many years ago. He had also used them extensively, especially the sniper rifle, during his time in Africa, a decade ago, serving the Sheik while still a member of the US Special Forces.
Al-Nashwan had already cleaned the weapons twice and had lightly applied a small quantity of oil on some of the moving pieces to guarantee proper operation. With an effective range of up to eight hundred meters and firing 5.8 x 42mm ammunition, the gas-operated QBU-88 had more than enough power for the task at hand. Al-Nashwan adjusted his telescope sight to three hundred meters and attached the bipod that would allow him even more accuracy.
Stretching his arms over his head, Al-Nashwan got up off the bed and dead-bolted his hotel-room door. He then locked it again from the inside using the security chain. He dragged a heavy four-drawer chest in front of the door to delay any intruder. Of course, he knew full well that these precautions would also slow him down if he wanted to leave in a hurry, but it was a small price to pay to know that his back was covered.
He laid the pistol next to the two extra ten-round magazines he had put within a hand’s reach of the rifle. If everything went well and if Alavi’s IEDs did their job, he wouldn’t need to fire a single shot. But just in case there were any members of Major Taylor’s envoy who survived the blast, he would ensure their timely demise. With nothing else to do, Al-Nashwan comfortably positioned himself behind his rifle and adjusted his sight on the ambush location.
CHAPTER 45
Mike was driving the 4x4 they’d rented while Lisa was studying a map of Freetown.
“We’re less than three hundred meters southwest of the hotel, Mike. We should find a place to park the truck and walk to the hotel from here.”
Mike looked out the window. The clouds were about to burst but were still holding for now. Good thing we’re wearing Gore-Tex boots. The weather might get ugly soon.
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