Sakira

by Robert blanton

  “Okay, how about enemies?” Marc asked.

  “There are factions within the government that have been trying to eliminate him, but his friends have been able to protect him. He is also enemies with other crime lords in Morocco. I have traced another enemy, a Berber Chief. His name is Ayyour Dahmani, and he is from a city in the Atlas Mountains.”

  “That one is interesting,” Blake said. “Why are they enemies?”

  “Omar also participates in the trade of sex slaves,” ADI said. “Two years ago, his men kidnapped a small group of girls who were shopping in Rabat. The girls had wandered into a secluded area, and the men saw them as a target of opportunity. The chief’s daughter was one of them; the other girls were from the same village. The men killed the girls’ bodyguards and brought the girls to Casablanca for Omar.”

  “I guess that would piss you off,” Blake said.

  “Go on, ADI. What happened to the girls?” Marc asked.

  “When Omar realized who they were, he had them all killed. He worked hard to eliminate any trace to himself. However, the locals in Rabat recognized one of the men who took them, and Dahmani’s investigators discovered this. They captured him, and after interrogation, he divulged the fate of the girls.”

  “Okay, try to contact Dahmani, let’s see if he wants to join the party,” Marc said.

  “Yes, Captain.”

  “That gives us a potential ally,” Marc continued. “Now, some of you might wonder why we don’t just sink the tub and sail away. Well, Omar knows who we are and has plenty of resources. If we don’t take care of him now, I’m sure we’ll be seeing him in the Azores later.”

  “I agree,” Kal said. “Let’s look at the compound layout.”

  They spent the next hour reviewing the layout of the compound and discussing how they would secure it. The main thrust of the plan was to take advantage of the fortress-like structure. The main house was well fortified, so if they could secure it, they should be able to hold off the rest of the security force, the majority of which was along the wall and in the outbuildings.

  “What are we going to do about the Arabic thing,” Fred asked.

  “We’ll all be wearing a keffiyeh to hide our faces. Each of us will have a comm under it. They’ll let ADI, our tech wizard, speak for us. She’ll feed a translation to yours and then speak for you if necessary,” Marc explained.

  “What about Liz?” Kal asked. “I’m not sure she’s going to pass as a twelve-year-old girl.”

  “You ass,” Liz said. “I’ll be wearing a hajib, so my face won’t show. Very proper, other than that Catie and I are almost the same size.”

  “Sorry,” Kal said, but he was smiling at the jab he’d got in.

  “What are we going to do about the crew once we’re off?” Fred asked.

  “We’re rigging the ship with explosives. Catie will have the trigger. Once we’re off, the captain will need to take her back to sea,” Marc said. “I’ve shown the captain the surveillance pucks we have on the bridge and in the main deck area. He knows that if we don’t get an accurate headcount after they make sail, or if anyone alerts Omar, Catie will trigger the explosives and send this thing to the bottom. He seems very eager to be cooperative.”

  “I’d guess so,” Blake said.

  “Okay, let’s get this tub moving again,” Marc said. “We dock in thirty minutes.”

  ◆ ◆ ◆

  Once they had docked, Marc and the pilot made their way to the warehouse to collect the van. Mar allowed the pilot to do all the talking. He hadn’t shown him that he was able to understand Arabic, so this was a good test of the man’s commitment to keeping himself and his crew alive.

  They entered the warehouse and found the driver standing next to the van. The pilot walked over and yelled at the man. “Why is the van not ready?” he demanded.

  “It is ready, Sayid,” the driver replied.

  “It is not running, you should be in the driver seat ready for me to open the door,” the pilot yelled.

  “Yes, Sayid.”

  The driver ran to the van while the pilot opened the door. When the driver exited the warehouse, the pilot closed the door, and he and Marc got into the back of the van.

  “Who is he?” the driver asked.

  “That is none of your business. Too many questions and Omar will need a new driver,” the pilot yelled.

  “Yes, Sayid,” the driver drove the van up to the gangway to the smuggler’s boat.

  Three men came down the ramp leading Liz. Liz had her hands tied in front of her. They crawled into the van while the pilot got out and hurried up the gangway. He motioned for the dock crew to remove the ramp, then rushed to the bridge to get the boat moving.

  “Let’s go,” came from Marc’s keffiyeh as he slapped the driver with his Beretta.

  ◆ ◆ ◆

  When they arrived at the compound, the security guard at the gate let them in with only minor questions; they were obviously expected. The driver drove to the front steps of the house and exited the van. He opened the side panel, and the four men led Liz out of the van and up the stairs to the house.

  A security guard met them at the door. “The Effendi is waiting on you. Follow me.”

  As they walked toward the office, Blake and Marc held back, and once the guard turned down the hallway, they split up, Marc rushing to the roof while Blake ran back to the van to get their equipment. He yelled at the driver to help him carry things into the house. His manner confused the other security guard enough that he simply allowed them to take their bags from the van to the house.

  Marc had strapped the parts of a small rifle to his legs. When he reached the roof, he had to use his Beretta, which still had a silencer on it to dispatch one security guard. Then he assembled the rifle and took position on the edge of the roof to provide cover.

  Kal and Liz entered the office behind the security guard. Omar was behind his desk when they came in. He was smiling until he realized that Kal was not who he was expecting.

  “Who are you,” Omar demanded of Kal as he came out from behind his desk.

  “I’m Tarik. Muammer fell overboard, a disagreement about a gambling debt,” Kal said. “Zaud sent me in his place.”

  “You lie, Muammer was a good Muslim, he would never gamble,” Omar yelled. “Tell me, who are you?”

  Kal stood there stoically holding onto Liz’s arm. Omar pulled out a pistol, “I said, who are you?”

  “I told you, I’m Tarik,” Kal replied.

  Omar pointed his pistol at Kal’s foot and looked at him. “This is what I do for the first lie,” he said as he pulled the trigger.

  Kal just stood there looking at Omar as the bullet smashed through his foot. Omar was stunned at the lack of reaction. Liz took the opportunity to drop the ties on her hands, kick the gun out of Omar’s hand, and pull her own weapon from beneath her skirt, all while she dove to the ground. She rolled over, coming up to one knee and then put a bullet into each of the two guards, who had also been stunned at Kal’s lack of response.

  “You let him shoot my foot,” Kal yelped.

  “Hey, you can patch it up,” Liz said. “It made a good distraction.”

  “Yeah, right.”

  “You need to head up to the roof,” Liz said. “Here, use the elevator.”

  “I need my rifle,” Kal shouted.

  “Coming,” Blake called back. He ran into the room and threw Kal his rifle case. “I think the shots have the locals a bit concerned. They’re heading for the house now. Marc is already on the roof, holding them off.”

  “Yeah, and I could use some help,” Marc hollered in the comm.

  “On my way!” Kal called out as he entered the elevator and pressed the button for the roof.

  Now that Liz had Omar pinned down, she used some zipties to secure his hands and feet.

  “You’re all dead,” Omar yelled. “My men will stop at nothing until they free me and kill you.”

  “Oh, put a sock in it,” Liz snapped as she sh
oved a gag into Omar’s mouth.

  “Fred’s covering the front,” Blake yelled. “I’m going to cover the back. You’ll need to stay here and watch him. Of course, you’re free to use that window to discourage any guests.”

  “Just get out of here,” Liz shouted as she made her way to the window.

  Marc’s cover fire from the roof had the security detail pinned down behind the van and in the outbuilding. Liz could see that there were several men on the wall, making their way to positions that would let them get an angle on Marc’s position. “Come on, Kal,” she urged.

  Kal arrived on the roof and immediately assembled his sniper rifle. He moved to Marc’s position and lay down. “I can scoot along if I have to,” he said. “But I need you to move back behind the chimney there and take care of any fast-moving targets.”

  “Got it,” Marc shouted as he moved back to the chimney.

  Kal lined his sights up on the van, “ADI, give me the angle for one of these guys; let’s work through them.”

  ADI, using the drone overhead, outlined the various security men on Kal’s HUD. Kal aimed the rifle at the target and fired, shooting through the van. He shot the two men behind the van in quick succession. Then he concentrated on the men on the wall. The top of the wall was a channel giving the men an adobe shield between them and anyone on the inside or outside of the compound. Unfortunately for them, it was no match for the M40 Kal was using. He quickly dispatched four more security men before the rest ducked into the outbuilding for cover.

  “Okay, anybody got a hot target?” Kal shouted.

  “Nope, everyone has ducked into the security shed,” Blake called out. “Can you cover me while I open the gate?”

  “We’ve got you covered,” Marc called out as he took up position beside Kal. “Go for it.”

  Blake rushed out using the van for cover. He made sure that the bodies behind it were dead before he made a mad dash to the gate. A shot rang out as Kal took out one of the security men who was trying to get a bead on Blake from the window of the shed.

  Reaching the gate, Blake unlocked it and swung it open. A Moroccan security van entered the compound, followed by two military jeeps.

  Four men from one of the military jeeps jumped out and ran to the security shed, demanding that the men inside surrender themselves. After pointing out that they had grenade launchers, they were able to persuade the six men inside to surrender.

  Marc and Kal took the elevator down to the main office. “How’s it going, Liz?”

  “I’m fine. Omar here seems to be a little upset,” Liz grabbed Omar by the arm and pushed him into the desk chair. He had managed to spit the gag out and was screeching in Arabic.

  “You sound like a child,” Marc spat out. “I’m going to be happy to hand you over.”

  Omar smiled when he realized that Marc was going to hand him over to the authorities, or so he thought. “I will be back, and I will enjoy killing you,” he spat out.

  “I don’t think so,” Marc said. “I’m pretty sure this is the last time we will ever meet.”

  “I have friends in high places. They will get me out, then I will come for you.”

  Marc smiled, “Sayid Dahmani may have something to say about that.” Omar’s eyes went wide as Ayyour Dahmani entered the room.

  “Sayid, I think you can take things from here,” Marc said.

  “My deepest thanks, Sayid McCormack,” Dahmani said. “You may take one of my jeeps back to the port. Just leave it there, and we will collect it later.”

  “Thank you,” Marc said.

  “No, it is I who is indebted to you. If you ever need anything, please do not hesitate to call.”

  “We won’t,” Marc said. “But we don’t have any immediate plans to be in Morocco after today.”

  “May Allāh be with you.”

  “Hadāk Allāh,” Marc replied.

  Everyone climbed into the jeep Dahani had loaned them. “I think that was a successful mission,” Blake said.

  “Yes, nobody got shot,” Marc said. “That’s the mark of success.”

  “Nobody got shot,” Kal squawked. “What about my foot?”

  “Don’t be a baby,” Liz shot back. “It’s not like it’s a real foot.”

  “You owe me a new pair of shoes,” Kal shouted.

  “Sure, sure, I’ll be happy to buy you a pair of shoes if you just quit whining.”

  “You think it’s funny,” Kal shouted back at Liz.

  “It is pretty funny,” Blake said. “I would have loved to have seen the look on Omar’s face when he shot you.”

  Liz laughed, “It was priceless. I’ve got a shot of it saved on my comm; I’ll send it to you.”

  “Send me one, too,” Marc said.

  “Me too,” Fred added. “Wow, he was pretty confused,” Fred started laughing after viewing the video, and soon the whole jeep was laughing, even Kal.

  ◆ ◆ ◆

  The Mea Huli was waiting for them at the same dock that the smuggler had used. They all quickly climbed aboard, looking forward to leaving Casablanca behind.

  “Let’s get out of here,” Marc said to Catie, who was waiting to greet her father.

  “Wait, what about the nephew?” Catie said.

  “Oh crap, I forgot all about him,” Marc said. “Blake, will you go bring him up. Fred, get us ready to leave.”

  Blake pulled Muzah out of the stateroom, where he had been locked for two days. “Here he is. Can’t we just chuck him over the side once we get out to sea?”

  “I wish,” Marc said. He gave the nephew a harsh look. Marc dragged him down the gangplank and shoved him into the back of Dahmani’s jeep. He tied his legs again and left him there.

  “Dahmani will take care of him for us,” he explained when he reboarded the Mea Huli. “Let’s get out of here.”

  “We might need to stop for fuel,” Blake said.

  “Nope, all fueled up,” Catie said.

  “Smart girl,” Marc said. “After it, Captain Blake.”

  “Aye, aye.”

  Chapter 12

  Selling the Chagas

  Blake and Kal had dropped Marc, Catie, Liz, and Fred off at Lagos before heading on to the Azores. Fred had then flown the trio back to Lisbon to continue the negotiations, now they were waiting outside of Minister Sampalo’s office. The minister had a new secretary sitting outside his office, an attractive woman named Carolina Henriques.

  “The minister is just finishing up his call,” Carolina said. “He should be with you momentarily.”

  A moment later, the minister opened his door. “Welcome back,” he said. “Would everyone like some coffee?” He got nods from everyone, so he turned to Carolina. “Carolina, would you please bring us each a coffee and some of those nice pastelarias from the café downstairs, and bring one for Senhor Bosco also.”

  “Of course, Minister,” Carolina said as she got up from her desk and headed to the elevator.

  “Please come in and have a seat,” the minister said. “Senhor Bosco should be here shortly.”

  “Senhor Bosco?” Marc asked.

  “From the finance ministry,” Minister Sampalo said. “If we are going to talk about money, we must have a finance lawyer to help us.”

  “Of course.”

  “Please be seated. I’m so glad you could make it,” the minister said.

  “We were happy to accept your invitation,” Marc said. “You have a new secretary?”

  “Yes, my last one didn’t show up for work the day after your last visit. He didn’t even bother to call, unforgivable. I never liked him anyway. He was forced upon me by someone in HR; undoubtedly someone’s nephew.”

  “I’m sure,” Marc said.

  “Ah, Senhor Bosco,” the minister said as an older gentleman entered the room. “Let me introduce Senhor McCormack; his daughter, Senhorita Catie; and his colleague, Senhorita Farmer.”

  “Pleased to meet you,” Senhor Bosco said. He shook Marc’s hand and gave a bow to Catie and Liz.
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br />   “Now we can get down to business,” Minister Sampalo said. “Coffee will be here shortly.” He motioned for Senhor Bosco to start.

  “The Presidente has authorized us to negotiate the fate of Las Cinque Chagas with you,” he started. “We are very interested in reaching a mutual agreement, but I must tell you that four billion dollars is far too much money.”

  “Well then, thank you for your time,” Marc said as he started to rise.

  “Please, Senhor McCormack, you must allow us to negotiate,” the minister said.

  “I’m happy to negotiate,” Marc said. “But if we’re so far apart in what is reasonable, then I feel it will be a waste of everyone’s time.”

  “Possibly I overstated the difference in our positions,” Senhor Bosco said. “What would you consider a reasonable starting point for negotiations?”

  “Four billion,” Marc said.

  Senhor Bosco sputtered a little. “The government of Portugal would be far more comfortable with something in the one-billion-dollar-range.”

  “I’m sure they would be,” Marc said. “I am far more comfortable with something in the four billion range.”

  “We could continue to dance our way toward the middle, but why don’t we just go there,” Senhor Bosco said. “What about two-point-five billion.”

  “We have incurred a lot of expense getting to this point,” Marc said. “And we still need to raise the ship.”

  “But surely your expenses cannot be so great, possibly another ten million?”

  “I think we’re talking about closer to one hundred million dollars,” Marc replied. “We’ve had to pay for extensive research, and develop new techniques and chemicals to ensure we can raise the ship in good condition.”

  The door opened, and Carolina entered. “Your coffee.”

  “Thank you, Carolina,” the minister said. “Please serve us. Ah, and such nice pastelarias you have selected.”

  Carolina placed the tray on the table. The coffee was in an elegant silver demitasse coffee pot with beautiful antique china coffee cups. Carolina passed out the coffee cups and the matching plates, then she poured each of them a cup of coffee while offering cream and sugar to everyone. After passing the pastry plate around, she set it in the center of the table next to the coffee tray. “Will there be anything else?”