Hayden Stone watched Sandra fidget and fret while driving the rental car. They had just left the city and were heading for a conference called by the ambassador. The meeting was to be held at the official ambassador’s residence, a distance from center city in a treed suburb. The ambassador promised a braai afterward. Since COS Fleming didn’t want them staying at Victoria Wharf after the shooting incident, the two would then head for the safe house.
Fleming had phoned and advised that Ambassador Bunting wanted the meeting at three o’clock in order to hash out issues that had come to his attention. One issue on the agenda was Sandra’s putting a bullet in Farley Durrell’s leg. True, she had saved Farley from being murdered by Nabeel Asuty and his thugs and should be commended by her superiors for quick thinking, if not flair for improvising, but both knew their bureaucracy would view the action outside the norm. As very “sticky.” Administrative criticism could be expected.
Shifting her weight and hitting the wheel with both hands, Sandra let out a long groan. “This mission sucks! Nothing has gone right. I want to go back to Paris.”
“Pull over. I’ll drive,” Stone said, and surprisingly she pulled off onto a dirt shoulder. Stone hoped he’d have the good sense to remain silent and allow her to talk, tell him her concerns.
The surrounding neighborhood consisted of elegant homes placed on expansive lots. Traffic had been almost nonexistent since leaving the city, but as they exited and walked around the car to change positions, a black SUV approached from the other direction, slowed, and stopped opposite them.
The moment the SUV’s windows lowered, Stone, standing in the open, yelled, “Take cover!”
His Sig Sauer was out at the same time gun barrels emerged from the front and rear windows of the SUV. Bullets whizzed by Stone’s head and slammed into the car. The windshield shattered behind him.
Stone ducked behind the open driver’s door, using it as a shield. He returned fire.
Crouching in front of the grille, Sandra began shooting with a controlled two-shot sequence. By now the front window of the rental was gone. The attackers’ rounds penetrated the car door Stone used for cover. Gun empty, he needed the other magazine inside the pocket of his coat, which was lying on the car seat.
He dove headlong into the car and squirmed over to the passenger side. Finding the spare magazine in his coat, he scrambled out the other side.
Sandra had shifted position from the front of the car to the trunk area and was in the midst of reloading. The SUV crept along the road, maintaining rapid fire. Reloaded, Stone bent down next to Sandra and steadied his pistol with both hands. He aimed and fired at the SUV’s tailgate window. The window fell apart, revealing a bearded man in sunglasses.
Stone lined his sights and eased off two rounds. The man’s sunglasses flew from his face, and his gun dropped out of the vehicle. The driver accelerated, peeling rubber from the SUV’s rear tires.
The two watched the vehicle disappear. Out of breath, they leaned on the car’s trunk. She said, “Good thing they left. I’m out of ammo.”
Examining his Sig Sauer, Stone said, “Not a bad weapon. Fairly accurate. I nailed one of them.”
“By my count, there were two more. One looked like Nabeel Asuty.”
They straightened and looked around. No movement came from the nearby homes. Either they were accustomed to gunfire in their neighborhood, or were wise enough to stay indoors when shootings occurred.
“I’ll phone for help,” Sandra said. “This car isn’t going anywhere. A bullet must have hit a hose in the engine compartment. Hear the hissing?”
In less than ten minutes, a car arrived from the ambassador’s residence. Owen, dreadlocks flopping, who the two had met at the safe house the previous night, jumped out. After assuring neither required medical attention, he inspected the rental car. “The rental company won’t like this, but then carjackings aren’t unusual here.” He ordered them into his car. “We have to get out of here in case they return.”
They retrieved their luggage from the trunk while Owen checked the inside of the car for any belongings. Before getting into the car, Stone ran over and with his handkerchief picked up the pistol that had dropped out of the SUV. He came back and asked, “Shouldn’t we gather up our brass?”
Owen looked puzzled.
“The brass. The expended cartridges lying on the ground.” After Stone had said it, the absurdity of the question hit him. “Guess we shouldn’t be worried about the crime scene.” Handing the pistol to him, Stone said, “Here’s one of their guns. We may get a make on a fingerprint.”
They drove away at a normal speed. Owen asked Stone, sitting in the backseat, to check behind them for any suspicious cars, and he began a dry-cleaning run along the back roads to the ambassador’s home.
Sandra spoke up. “I’ll bet Nabeel Asuty’s pissed.”
“Stupid move on his part,” Stone said. “Makes me wonder why he did it, and if they are the terrorists who want the bomb, why are they still here in Cape Town?”
Chapter Twenty-Two
Hayden Stone watched people file into the high-ceilinged room used by the ambassador as an informal meeting area. French provincial chairs had been arranged in a circle. Two of the room’s walls, painted a rich yellow, darkened as the afternoon shadows advanced. Colonel Gustave Frederick stood next to him, waiting for the stragglers before he began his briefing.
“I guess that little fracas out on the road got your juices flowing,” Frederick said.
“It got my attention,” Stone said, coming down from the adrenaline rush caused by the gunfight. His stomach growled and he felt edgy. A drink would help.
“Glad headquarters is on the ball, sending you here to smooth this operation.”
The COS, Charles Fleming, entered the room and introduced Colonel Frederick to the assembled group, which included the base chief, Houston, and the four agency people, whom Stone had met at the safe house. Then Fleming said, “The ambassador wants to talk with us — oh, here he is.”
Ambassador Bunting rushed in and told Frederick that he wanted to speak alone with him and Stone and Sandra. The four gathered by the fireplace, and Bunting came to the point.
“These shootings have put the embassy in a delicate position.” He raised his hand, knowing Frederick would protest. “I know your actions were reactive, well for the most part, but the South Africans are sensitive about firearms. Certain unfriendly factions would have a heyday with these two shootings.”
“So far we haven’t been identified or connected with the incidents,” Stone said.
“So far.”
Frederick said, “I plan to send these two to Namibia tomorrow. That should allay your concerns.”
“Wait ’till the ambassador up in Namibia hears.”
Stone said, “We hope to have this problem solved before anyone knows we’re there.”
“Considering the serious nature of this mission, it better be quick,” Bunting said. As he left he told Frederick, “I’ll let you conduct your meeting.”
To the group Colonel Frederick went over the situation and the obstacles they faced. CIA Headquarters considered the nuclear device up in Namibia a top priority and had sent him to oversee the operation.
“Are we going north to Namibia to seize that thing?” Houston asked.
Colonel Frederick held up his hand. “Before we get into specifics, let me tell you what Langley cabled to us an hour ago. As you are aware, we have a fix on the nuclear device, which is located in the southern region of Namibia on the fringe of the Kalahari Desert.
“Two weeks ago our satellite tracked two, rather, four men, identities unknown, scoping out the boxcar that has the nuclear device inside. They flew in by helicopter and two of them searched the boxcar, entered it, and took some readings. They took off and flew north toward Angola.”