‘They said they’d call me if there was any change. Why didn’t they call? Is the truck on its way?’
‘Yes. Those filthy bastards should’ve called you.’
The mechanic’s gaze narrowed. ‘You’re a foreigner.’
Pepper smiled. ‘Of course.’
The man muttered something, then said, ‘The plane will be ready.’ The guy turned back toward the ladder.
Pepper stood there, still wearing his stupid grin.
‘What do you want?’
Pepper had the X3 Taser pistol in his fist before the mechanic could react. The safety was off, and a pair of laser dots had lined up vertically on the mechanic’s chest, with the top dot flashing to mark the target.
At the same time, a second pair of laser dots appeared on the shorter mechanic’s chest, these also emitted from Pepper’s weapon. A total of three cartridges could be inserted into the X3’s box-shaped barrel, each containing a pair of probes, and now two of those cartridges were about to be emptied –
Simultaneously.
Pepper thumbed a side button to ‘arc’ the charge, the weapon crackling with electricity.
There was no need to do this, other than to scare the shit out of the guys. Pepper couldn’t help himself.
The mechanics backed away, and the first looked to the workbench, about to make his move.
And then, with the crackling growing louder — like something out of Frankenstein’s lab — the shorter mechanic cried, ‘Don’t shoot!’ He was about to swing himself off the ladder like a gymnast when –
Pepper squeezed the trigger, firing both sets of probes, the attached wires zigzagging away from the barrel like folded fishing line, the mechanics now screaming like medieval torture chamber victims as they fell toward the deck, writhing. A weird metallic smell made Pepper grimace.
‘Oh, come on, guys, man up,’ he told them in Arabic. ‘Take the pain. It won’t last long.’
An airport security truck carrying 30K, along with four NLA troops, rolled up outside, squeaking to a halt. 30K hopped from the passenger’s side and came jogging into the hangar.
‘Hey, what do we got?’ he cried, his voice echoing.
‘Get him,’ Pepper ordered, pointing to the shorter guy lying across part of the ladder.
While 30K hustled past him to comply, Pepper removed the Taser probes on the taller one, then dug his arms beneath the mechanic and dragged him up and toward the truck, handing him off to the NLA troops.
30K delivered his man to the truck, then told the driver to get out of there. The mechanics, along with the courier, would be taken back to the church and detained until Ross gave the order for their release. The truck squealed off with a rush of dust and gravel.
Pepper waved over 30K toward the wall of pallets to their left. ‘When’s the last time you drove a forklift?’
30K shrugged. ‘How hard can it be?’
THIRTY-FIVE
The shipment containing the bricks of cocaine that Ross and Pepper had tagged was still inside the warehouse and would probably be moved out sometime during the day. If the FARC-Bedayat network was smuggling cocaine into Europe, then they might utilize yet another Fadakno warehouse located in Croatia. Ross shared that hunch with Mitchell, who said he’d deploy another Ghost team to follow the shipment.
Kozak, who was at the wheel of the Tacoma, kept them about a kilometer behind the weapons truck. Even better, they were hidden behind several other vehicles also headed to the airport. They’d sent up the drone to keep a visual on the truck, even as the NSA supplied them with Keyhole satellite imagery of the road and airport. A sensor deployed outside the warehouse just as the truck was leaving revealed that four of the six FARC guards were in the back, rubbing shoulders with the pallets of SA-24s.
Because Kozak was driving, Ross operated the drone, and the young sergeant repeatedly told him to be careful. ‘Don’t worry, buddy, I won’t let it crash.’
‘They’re not cheap,’ Kozak warned. ‘And, sir, I appreciate us going a little more on the offensive here.’
‘These guys can expect to lose a few couriers,’ said Ross. ‘Those kids always get cold feet after a while. I lost a few myself back in the ’Stan. You win over a kid’s loyalty, but he’s only good for a few weeks till he realizes just how dangerous it is, then he bails. Anyway, Maziq will help us cover up the rest.’
‘Cool.’
‘30K say anything to you about last night?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Oh, you know what I mean. I’m sure he said something.’
Kozak shifted uncomfortably in his seat. ‘Uh, you fell off your bed.’
‘Yeah, one of those rollovers, and oops, I’m not in my own bed things.’
‘I’ve done that.’
‘I’ll tell you what,’ said Ross, lifting his tone. ‘I feel good today. Mission tempo is high. And in a few minutes, it’ll be showtime!’
‘Hell, yeah, sir!’
Ross banged fists with Kozak, then glanced through the open window, letting the hot wind whip over his face.
30K marveled over the expression on the guy’s face:
Their not-so-friendly neighborhood pilot, Bakri Takana, had an extremely dark complexion and brilliant eyes, which shone all the more as he watched a miracle happen not two feet from his face.
He’d just parked the truck inside the hangar, had climbed out, and was now staring at 30K and Pepper with pistols pointed at his head.
From Takana’s point of view, these men had materialized from thin air.
And 30K found it difficult to repress his shit-eating grin over absolutely shocking the guy with their optical camouflage.
‘Hands on your head,’ ordered 30K in Arabic.
‘What the hell? How did you … where did you —’
‘HANDS ON YOUR HEAD!’
Takana winced and obeyed.
‘You’re Bakri Takana,’ said Pepper.
‘How do you know me?’
Pepper’s tone softened. ‘We’re not here to hurt you. We just need to talk.’
30K shifted behind Takana and patted him down, discovering a pistol tucked into the small of his back, another in a calf holster. He then grabbed one of Takana’s wrists, slapped on a pair of zipper cuffs, then lowered the other wrist to finish the job. While clutching the man’s bound wrists with one hand, 30K leaned in close and growled, ‘Okay, Sundown, what’s the combination on that lock?’
‘Who are you?’
‘Let’s just say we’re the good guys,’ said Pepper. ‘Give us that combination.’
‘Why should I? You’ll kill me anyway.’
‘There’s no need for that. Just cooperate.’
Takana thought a moment, then seemed to smile, as if over some private joke. He blurted out the numbers.
With that, 30K went jogging around to the other side of the truck. He understood why Takana had, for just a few seconds, looked so pleased with himself. He figured that Pepper and 30K were unaware of the guards inside the truck. He’d assumed that his ‘friends’ would ambush these ‘good guys’ who’d taken him prisoner.
What Mr Takana had not realized, though, was that he was dealing with four of the most highly trained and well-equipped Special Forces operators in the world. Flyboy was about to crash and burn.
30K worked the lock, removed it, then set it down.
He leaned past the truck, smiled, and waved at Takana while speaking through his teeth, ‘Watch this, you mother.’ He slipped on his gas mask and dug into his pocket –
To produce a gas grenade containing a newly formulated incapacitating agent known as Kolokol-7. It was based on the old Kolokol-1 synthetic opioid, and in part a derivative of fentanyl but in a much more stable and safer form that had been rigorously field tested by the Ghosts for several years. The idea was to put your adversaries to sleep, not accidentally poison them, which had happened much more often than not when deploying these types of gasses. Tear gas was okay, but your foes could still fire wildly while blinded. You wanted them on the ground, immobile, done.