“Quick, get into the kitchen. Don’t make a sound. The man at the front door is with the Secret Police. He comes now and then to check on me. But so far it’s been just a friendly hello and to let me know that they are watching me. It must be nothing or there would be two of them.” Again she had dressed as a man.
Franklin hurried into the kitchen and left the door open a narrow crack so he could see. Nothing. Sure. Secret Police always meant trouble. He couldn’t allow anything to disrupt their plans now. He picked up a butcher knife from the counter and held it as he watched through the door. Nothing was going to interfere with their plans for destroying the warhead. Nothing.
21
Franklin watched through the narrow space past the inside door as Jeru opened the outer one. He heard the words but didn’t understand them. Franklin watched Jeru reluctantly step back and let the man come in. He was darker than Jeru and had black hair and a full beard. Jeru had dressed in her man’s clothes, and with her short hair, horn rimmed glasses, and loose shirt passed easily as a man.
“I see that you are still unemployed.”
“I have my travel agency.”
“But not enough business to make a living.”
“I have an inheritance from my late father.”
“I don’t know your father. He must have been wealthy.”
“Of modest means, but thrifty. What do you want?”
“Just a regular visit. You sometimes have foreign customers. We are curious.”
“Yet you encourage tourists.”
“Only when they bring lots of money.”
“Can I arrange a trip for you somewhere?”
“I am a working man.”
“So am I.”
“You look nervous today, should I be concerned?”
“Only if you are worried about my missing an appointment that could lead to a good customer for me. A merchant who does considerable traveling.”
The man frowned, then laughed. “You are trying to get me to leave. Perhaps I should search your apartment?”
“Anytime, just don’t touch anything.”
They stared at each other, both grim faced. At last the bearded man nodded. “No, I won’t look today, but we are watching you. If we have any suspicions we will simply eliminate you. Remember that.” He turned, opened the door, and left.
Franklin rushed through the door and stood in front of her. She fell against him and he held her.
“He is an evil man. He doesn’t like me, and hopes he can close down my business or simply shoot me.”
“Maybe it’s time you came in, quit this dangerous business. How long have you been with the Company?”
“Almost four years.”
“When this is over, you should get away. The regime will make a lot of heads roll if we’re successful. Yours could be one. Do you have identification papers in another name?”
She shook her head. “How can I leave my home, my country?”
“It’s easy to decide if you face a firing squad if you stay. We’ll talk more about it. Today you said we’d find some submachine guns.”
“Give me a minute, and hold me tight. I need to forget about that terrible man.”
He held her, and gradually her breathing slowed and she relaxed. She moved and came away from him, then bent back and kissed him lightly on the lips.
Jeru sighed. “Sometimes I want to forget all of this and travel somewhere so I can sit by the sea and drink a fine wine, and let the soft breezes billow over me. Then I go swimming in the warm water and I’ll have no agenda, no worries, no danger.”
“This will be your last mission. You’ll come out with us. What you need are new identity papers. We’ll change your look. We’ll get you out. Now, let’s concentrate on getting the weapons.”
Jeru drove, and took only Franklin with her. They went to a shopping district, parked, and went inside a big store. Quickly she led him out the side entrance into a cab. They changed cabs twice.
“I must be certain none of the regime has followed us,” she said. They walked two blocks in a part of town that would make Franklin nervous even if he had all of his weapons.
They went into a small corner store that sold a few food things and some clothing. A mom-and-pop-type place. The woman inside smiled at Jeru, and watched the front while Jeru and Franklin went through a beaded door and into a back room. From there Jeru led him down a series of steps, then along a tunnel he figured ran under the street, then back up steps to a third floor room where a man sat smoking a water pipe.
Franklin sniffed the smoke that layered heavily in the room. The man was on heroin. He didn’t seem to notice them enter. Jeru reached out, gently removed the pipe from his mouth, and talked to him in gentle tones. Franklin couldn’t catch what she said.
The man laughed softly. Franklin guessed he was in his seventies, with deep sunken eyes, cheekbones prominent under soft leather skin. His eyes were black marbles. He lounged on a recliner chair fully extended, and even in the warm weather had a blanket draped over his body. One bony hand came out and touched fingers with Jeru.
They spoke softly for a minute. Then she turned and introduced Franklin to the man she called only Gunner. He stared at Franklin for a moment, then smiled through his gaunt facial structure.
“Yes, an American. I lived once in San Francisco. Good town, plenty of rain. You want weapons to kill Mohammad Omar?”
“Gunner, I’m afraid that isn’t our mission. At least this time. We’re after the devil bomb, the holocaust-bringer, the vaporizer of whole cities in the blink of an eye.”
“The warhead from the Russian ICBM,” Gunner said. “You are surprised. I might be old and dying, but I’m not stupid. Yes, you can have any weapons you wish, no charge for such a noble mission. Qalat will show you the goods. You will need ammunition as well. I hear the caves are well protected.”
“I saw fifty soldiers there and two quad fifties,” Franklin said.
“Quad fifties? Were they mounted on a half-track?” Gunner asked.
“No, on the back of a half-ton truck.”
Gunner nodded. “Even so, those four closely mounted fifty-caliber machine guns can plow up the ground you walk on. It’s a murderous weapon.”
“Those two quads will be the first thing we take out when we attack,” Franklin said.
“First the driver, then the man firing the weapon,” Gunner said. “The hardware itself is hard to harm.”
Franklin smiled. “You sound like a soldier.”
“Once, long ago and far away. Now, here is Qalat, he will help you. I am tired. Forgive me.” He lay down fully and closed his eyes.
A tall thin man with flowing black hair and beard motioned to them. The subbasement Qalat took them to was heated and temperature- and humidity-controlled. It was a room fifty feet square, filled with weapons and arms of all types.
“You want submachine guns,” Qalat said. “Over here.”
It felt more like a swap meet than a normal gun store, but they had the goods. Quickly Franklin picked out four H & K sub guns of the same basic design the SEALs normally used. He found four more weapons that used the same 9mm parabellum ammo, the Beretta 12S made in Italy. All four were used, but all had the forty-round magazines. Franklin tested the weapons and examined them and pronounced them fit for service.
The ammunition was a problem. How much would they need? At last Franklin decided on two hundred rounds per weapon. The sniper rifles were harder to find. In the far corner they discovered them: two brand-new Stoner SR-25’s. The weapon is actually an M-16 modified to fire the NATO 7.62mm round for greater stopping power. These weapons had twenty-round magazines and a twenty-power scopes on top of the barrels.
All the guns and ammo went into three suitcases. Jeru tried to pick one up, and hurriedly lowered it back to the floor. Two men came to help them carry the goods out to their car. They stopped to speak to Gunner, who again refused payment.