Behind the rolling door, 30K imagined all four guards, submachine guns drawn, waiting for him to open the hatch.
He did –
Opened it about six inches, pulled the pin on the grenade, and threw it inside.
Then he slammed shut the rolling door, threw the latch, and leaped sideways –
Just as automatic fire ripped through the door and began shredding the area around that latch, rounds chewing into the concrete and ricocheting away, the sounds of the hissing grenade and screaming guards inside coming through the fresh bullet holes in the door. The men began kicking the door, trying in vain to pry it open, the gas now leaking from the bullet holes while 30K craned his head toward the hangar door –
Where Kozak and Ross skidded to a stop in their pickup. They donned gas masks, then came running over as 30K checked his watch. The truck grew very still as Kozak and the boss trained their rifles on the truck’s back door, while 30K threw the latch.
With a slight shiver, he used both hands to shove the door upward as hard as he could, the rollers rattling as thick clouds came pouring out and finally thinned to expose the pallets and the four guards lying slumped on the floor or against the wall.
‘Nice work,’ Ross said from behind his mask. He slapped a palm on 30K’s back. ‘Let’s do this!’
30K nodded and ran off, around the truck and toward the gas-powered forklift waiting for him.
A hundred things could have gone wrong, and they usually did, but for now, 30K would keep his head low so that fate would not spot him. He would get those pallets transferred to the plane pronto.
Ross told Pepper to bring Takana over to the office area while the gas was still clearing out. There, they shoved the pilot into a chair and Ross spoke evenly. ‘We’ll be turning you over to your own government. At best, you’ll get life imprisonment for aiding and abetting an international terrorist organization. At worst, they’ll execute you.’
‘I’m just a pilot.’
‘Yeah, a pilot who flies stolen rocket launchers.’
‘I fly boxes of pipes and flanges.’
Ross hunkered down to level his gaze on the man. ‘Bakri, listen to me. If you help us, I can guarantee you immunity. I’m talking no jail time at all.’
‘I don’t believe you. Who are you?’
‘Excuse me, can I have a word?’
The question had come from Maziq, who’d returned to the warehouse. Ross shifted away toward the entrance, and they lowered their voices. ‘I still don’t like this. We shouldn’t have intercepted them here. We should’ve let him take off and tracked the shipment electronically.’
‘Sorry, bro, but like I told you, I wasn’t taking that risk. Not with those weapons.’
‘Yeah, well, now if his shipment doesn’t show up on time —’
‘I understand that. So are you here to criticize or help?’
‘I can get him to cooperate, but you might not like it.’
‘We’re Ghosts. And we do not torture our prisoners. Right now, I just need him to fly the plane. He needs to make it look like business as usual.’
Maziq nodded. ‘I’m not talking about physical torture.’ Maziq pulled an envelope from his cargo pants and shoved it into Ross’s hands. ‘We found Takana’s wife and two girls back in Sudan, in Khartoum.’
Ross closed his eyes for a moment and swore. ‘Do we have to go there?’
‘Hey, man, my team just gathers the intel. It’s always your call.’ Maziq sighed and stepped away, speaking into a radio he’d been holding, checking in on the NLA troops monitoring airport security.
Ross opened the envelope and examined the photographs of the woman and her two daughters, surveillance photos taken of them while they’d been shopping along a busy city street.
He looked up at Takana, then back at the photos. Then he checked his watch. Well, they didn’t have time for long and sensible arguments that might win over the man.
With a surge of adrenaline, Ross marched back to the pilot, shoved the photos in the man’s face, and said, ‘I don’t think I need to say anything else, except … will you please help us.’
Takana glanced at the photos, a sheen coming into his eyes. He looked up and said, ‘I fly the cargo to Port Sudan. I don’t ask questions. Sometimes I fly drugs, money shipments, sometimes weapons. I land, I hand off the cargo, and I fly back. For this they pay me very well.’
‘Who are they?’
‘I don’t know their names. They tell me nothing. I’m paid at the warehouse, usually by a courier. If there’s a boss there, I don’t know who he is.’
‘Will you fly us to Sudan?’ asked Ross.
‘If that’s what you want.’
‘Do the guards always go with the shipment?’
‘Yes.’
‘And do they fly back with you?’
‘Yes. Now I want immunity like you said. I want my family kept safe. Will you keep your word?’
‘I will.’
‘I’m not a bad man,’ said Takana.
Ross raised his brows. ‘Not as bad as the people you work for.’ Ross put his hand on the pilot’s shoulder. ‘You’re doing the right thing.’
Takana pursed his lips. ‘I hope so.’
A thunderous crash came from the hangar, sending Ross and Pepper rushing out toward the truck –
Where they found 30K still at the controls of the forklift. However he, the lift, and the pallet he’d been trying to remove from the truck were now lying sideways, the boxes of launchers now breaking through their shrinkwrap and splaying like dominoes across the floor.
THIRTY-SIX
‘It could’ve happened to anyone,’ Kozak told 30K as they rushed to repack the weapons pallet and get the forklift back in operation.
Pepper had already jumped behind the controls of the second forklift and was removing a pallet, noting, too, how terrible the traction was while bringing the lift down the truck’s aluminum loading ramp, which buckled under the load.
30K’s lift had started sliding halfway down the ramp, and he’d tried to correct it, but one wrong turn had sent him toppling over the side. His forklift’s tires were bald — perhaps an indication that these guys were doing some serious shipping.
They finished with the pallet, and 30K got back to work, his cheeks still flush with embarrassment.
Once they were finished loading the plane, Pepper squeezed the back of 30K’s neck and said, ‘Driving a forklift. How hard can it be?’
30K wrenched himself free. ‘Yeah, yeah, old man. I’ll keep my day job. Pays better anyway.’
They relieved the FARC guards of their Fadakno uniforms and distributed them based on the nearest sizing. Kozak’s pants were pretty baggy, but he didn’t complain and overtightened the belt. The black ball caps helped conceal their faces.
They shook hands with and thanked Maziq for all his help.
‘Oh, I’m not done with you yet,’ he said with a smile. ‘The ISA never sleeps. So yeah, be safe, guys, and even though none of us exist and everything we did never happened, it was good to work with the old team.’
‘You miss it now, huh?’ Ross asked.
Maziq smiled and raised an index finger. ‘I wouldn’t go that far.’
Kozak climbed into the C-212 with the rest of the team. Four seats attached to the bulkheads were positioned up front, just behind the cockpit, while the rest of the cabin had been stripped for cargo loading. They buckled in, and Ross sat in the copilot’s seat, mentioning how he’d maintained a private pilot’s license for the last ten years. The C-212 was usually operated with a copilot, but Takana said that his employers had preferred he work alone. For now, though, he seemed to welcome the assistance.