"SeaStar has the entire top floor of building three," Tanner said. He sat behind the steering wheel of the car, a Mitsubishi Pajero Sport 4x4. He stared at the office building through a pair of binoculars. "You can just see the lights from here. There's also a helo pad on the roof, and Aswegen uses a helicopter frequently."
"I see the lights," Naomi said. She was in the front passenger seat, dressed in a dark pants suit and flat heels. "They must be burning the midnight oil."
"They're on the hook for three quarters of a billion dollars’ worth of cargo," Dante said from the back seat. "Not to mention facing the wrath of an irate Iranian government. If I was them, I'd be doing the exact same thing."
"Aswegen may lawyer up on us," Naomi said. "He knows INTERPOL can't do anything to him."
"That's why I want him off-balance from the start," Tanner replied. "I want Naomi to take the lead as soon as we enter the offices. Aswegen doesn't like aggressive women and likes African blacks even less. You're going to be his worst nightmare."
Naomi smiled. "I like that plan."
"Dante and I will back you up and watch out for anyone trying to blindside us. His bodyguards have a tendency to curb-stomp anyone their boss tells them to. Don't draw your pistols unless you see a gun. We're supposed to be INTERPOL — which means we have no power to arrest and no jurisdiction."
"Which is why you want Nay in full 'Black Bitch' mode," Dante said.
"Yeah. At worse, it'll keep everyone's attention on us. At best, we might rattle something out of Aswegen we can use."
There were several clicks in the ear-piece worn by Tanner. "Black to White," Liam said. "We're parking now. No sign of activity."
"Copy, Black," Tanner replied. "Let us know when you're inside. One out."
Dante put his hands behind his head and stretched. "The waiting is the hardest part.”
SeaStar’s main warehouse was a large structure, just off Marine Drive. Across a side street, behind a steel girder of a building under construction, Liam scanned the warehouse through night-vision goggles. To the right of the warehouse, near the highway, stacks of empty cargo containers sat like giant building blocks. To the warehouse's left, a dirt-cover lot sat ready for construction. The lower part of the warehouse was brick, while the rest was steel, with the SeaStar logo affixed to the side of the building. Liam could see a pair of red steel doors facing his team. There were a couple of outside lights on, but most of the warehouse was in shadow.
They had parked their car two streets over, near a small tavern. Wearing Dragonskin armor, weapons and other equipment under long dark coats, they’d snuck into the deserted construction site and settled in to observe. Separated from the street by a thin wire fence with an opening to Liam's left, the construction area was mostly in darkness.
Danielle's background check on SeaStar's CEO had turned up enough to convince Tanner and Liam not to take chances. Aswegen was an ardent apartheid supporter, though he had muted that opinion publicly since the fall of the old system. But he did have strong ties to local white supremacists gangs, which he used as extra security or when he wanted someone opposing him removed. South African Police Force records, dug out of their system by Danielle, indicated that members of one such group, The National Federation of Free Afrikaans (NFFA) were either listed as security guards or workers in this warehouse. Which is why in addition to their pistols, each team member carried FN P-90 submachine guns and two extra 50-round magazines slung under their coats.
"One to Two," Tanner whispered, relying on the throat microphone to carry his words to Stephen, who was twenty feet away, to Liam's right.
"Go for Two," Stephen said.
"See any activity near those cargo containers?"
"Negative."
"Three, you ready?"
"Yes," Danielle replied. She was five feet behind Liam, in the shadow of a construction generator. "Can we get a move on?"
"Patience," Liam muttered as he raised his NVGs from his eyes. He and Tanner hadn't see any security cameras when they had looked at the warehouse that afternoon, and saw nothing now to indicate electronic security was in place.
"All right, we move in ten seconds. Three on my left, Two on my right. The red doors are the target."
In his head, Liam counted down. When he whispered, "Go," the three headed for the opening in the fence and raced across the street, through a narrow parking lot, and over a low wall. Danielle went left, Stephen went right, both covering their flanks with their P-90s.
Liam knelt next to the door and looked at it. If this was a combat mission, he would have used a dab of C-4 and blown the lock, but it was a "Sneak and Peek" mission — get in, take a look, and get back out without being noticed — so he had to utilize other methods.
From a pouch at his waist, he removed a lock pick gun, sometimes called a snap gun. He inserted a thin steel rod into the squarest device's "muzzle," then fed the rod into the lock until it wouldn’t go any further.
"Ready," he whispered.
Stephen backed up, moving past Liam until he was next to Danielle, his weapon still pointed to Liam's right.
"Set," Stephen whispered.
Liam gripped the door handle with one hand and squeezed the lock pick's trigger with the other, twisting the gun to the left, and pulling on the door handle. The door opened and Stephen stepped up, inserted his foot between the opened door and the jamb. Liam removed the lock pick gun, dropped it back into its pouch, pulled out his own P-90, and pointed it in the direction Stephen had been covering. He duck-walked back until he was between his teammates.
"We go on three," he whispered. “One… Two… Three!"
Stephen used his foot to open the door and stepped inside. Liam followed, staying low. Once inside the building, he swung to the left while Stephen covered the right. A couple of seconds later, Danielle moved between the two, ready to help either teammate.
Silence and near-darkness greeted them. There was a wall of shelves in front of them, running from left to right. Boxes of all shapes and sizes occupied those shelves, which reached nearly to the ceiling. Only a couple of overhead lights were on, leaving the buildings mostly in shadow.
Stephen slid his foot over the door jamb, and the door closed silently. Liam held up his NVG. The three pulled down the night-vision goggles each wore, and their vision improved dramatically. The shades of green revealed they were alone.
"We go right," Liam whispered. "I’m on point, Dani next, Stephen, rear guard. Let's move."
They moved silently down the row until they reached an intersection of shelves. Liam checked to make sure it was clear, then moved quickly and silently across to the row on the other side. The others followed one at a time.
They crossed two more intersections without incident. As they approached the third, a round of raucous laughter stopped them. All three knelt and listened.
" — and the kaffir's looking at me like I have two heads, blood pouring down the side of his face. So, I hit him again on the other side of the head!" More laughter followed, indicating more than two or three people were listening to the speaker.
Liam dropped prone and slowly leaned out until he could see the source of the conversation. Four rows of shelving down, he could see several folding tables that had been set up in the warehouse's center, which was open enough for the tables to be set up in a "U", the base of the U facing Liam's direction. Seven men, all white Afrikaans dressed in blue shirts and dark pants, sat around the tables. Beer bottles were plentiful, some clustered in groups of six or seven, while others were either by themselves or in smaller groups. Food stacked on plates also occupied the tables, as did empty dishes. Liam's eyes zeroed in on several South African-made Vektor R4 assault rifles leaning against the tables, all within easy reach.