“Relax,” Sean answered. “We’re disguised. And I’m not planning on getting out of the truck.”
“What?”
The pickup directly ahead of them veered onto the side road.
“When we get in there, I’m going to park us off to the side. We don’t have enough ammunition to take out all those guys, even if we wanted to.”
It was a thought Tommy had already considered. “Yeah, I know. So why are we going in there? We should wait for Emily.”
Sean had used his SAT phone to call Emily on their way to Songea. He’d only been able to give her their current location and the direction they were headed. Fortunately, her plane had stopped for fuel in Johannesburg, but getting back would take time. And unless he called, she wouldn’t know where to go. If he whipped out his phone, it would raise suspicion. So for the moment he had to play it close to the vest.
“Hey, I said, why don’t we wait for Emily?”
“She has no idea where we are right now. Only which way we were going. I was going to call her when we got here, but that might get attention we don’t want. Know what I mean?”
He spun the wheel to the left and fell back in line with the other trucks.
Tommy grabbed the bar on the door and squeezed it like Sean was driving a hundred miles an hour. “I hope you’re sure about this. Just gotta ask, and it’s not because I don’t trust you. But if we’re not calling for backup, how exactly are we going to take out all these guys?”
“We’re not.”
“Okay… ”
“We need to stop the plane. Not the men on the ground. We have to get aboard that cargo plane and keep it from taking off. Or at the very least, land it somewhere until the cavalry arrives.”
Tommy was silent for a second but his wide-eyed stare said it all. “Are you crazy? That plane is loaded down with missiles. So you want to not only get on board an airplane packed with illegal missiles, but you want to take it over and possibly land it if it’s already in the air?”
“Sounds about right.”
“Do you even know how to fly a plane?”
Sean thought for a second. He’d flown one before. Landed one, not so much. As far as Tommy was concerned, he didn’t need to know that bit of information until after the fact.
“Yes, I’ve flown a plane before.”
Tommy was still dubious. “When?”
“We’re swinging around to park. Just trust me. It’s gonna be fine.”
“Trust you? I’m still a little hazy on the how we’re getting on the plane part.”
Sean didn’t answer. He spun the wheel and stayed behind the same pickup he’d been following since leaving Mbeya. The line of transport trucks circled around the plane and parked in a row next to the others while the pickups drove over to the side of the hangar.
There was no way Sean was going to risk parking next to the others, so he kept going — passing the hangar — and continued around to the other side. He steered the truck into the empty parking area and drove around to the last available spot before pulling in.
“You think they’re not going to notice that?” Tommy asked as he grabbed the rifle from between his legs.
“Maybe,” Sean said. “From the looks of it, they’re in too much of a hurry to worry about one of their worker trucks parking on the wrong side of the hangar.” He pulled out his pistol and checked the magazine. “I don’t have many rounds left.”
“Yeah, so doing this as peacefully as possible would be a good decision.”
“I agree completely.”
“Yet somehow I have a bad feeling that isn’t what’s going to happen.”
Sean’s eyes squinted above the bandana across his face. “When have I ever led you into a bad situation where we had to fight our way out?”
“Not including the last forty-eight hours?”
“Obviously.”
“Well, there was that time when we were in middle school where you picked a fight with Jerry McTavish and his friends.”
“Okay, probably not a good time to be rolling down memory lane. It was rhetorical. Just keep your eyes open.”
Tommy stared out the window.
The high sun beat down on the truck, and now that the breeze from driving was gone, the temperature inside climbed rapidly.
They’d only been sitting in the truck for a couple of minutes when one of the guards appeared around the hangar corner. He stared at the truck with a curious expression.
“We’ve got trouble,” Tommy said, getting Sean’s attention.
A second later, the man with the gun started shouting at them and motioning with his hand for them to come.
“Looks like he wants us to get off our butts and do some work,” Sean said. “Even with these masks, they’ll see we’re Americans as soon as we get close.”
“So what do we do?”
The guard’s expression turned irritated, and he started stalking toward them.
“Follow my lead,” Sean answered.
He reached down and pulled the lever that opened the hood. The latch clicked, and the hood popped up. Then he opened the door, got out, and hurried around to the front. He threw the thing open as Tommy scurried around and leaned his weapon against the bumper.
Sean propped the hood up with the little bar inside the seals and started looking around, as if there was a problem with the engine.
The guard was closing rapidly, yelling something in Farsi at the two men he must have believed were slackers.
“You understand any of that?” Sean asked under his breath.
“Nope. I was hoping you did.”
“I know a little Arabic, but that’s about it.”
“Same here.”
The man stopped ten feet away from the truck and continued yelling, pointing at the truck. From his tone, it sounded like he was asking what the problem was.
Tommy shrugged but kept his face turned away. Sean did the same, leaning over as far as he could to keep his head as much out of view as possible. His blond hair would be a dead giveaway if it snuck out from the bandana he had on his head.
The guard raised his voice and started speaking faster. Sean and Tommy didn’t dare look at him. Even with their heads and faces covered, their eyes and the surrounding skin would belie their identities.
For a moment, Sean wasn’t sure if the guard would come closer or not. From where the guy was standing, taking him down would prove difficult. Even as Sean had the thought, the guard stepped forward, shouting orders at them they didn’t understand.
Tommy could feel him close in. Sean saw him with his peripheral vision.
Saliva shot out of the man’s mouth in tiny bursts as he continued barking. Then he reached out and put his hand on Tommy’s shoulder.
He spun the American around. It only took a second for him to see the two men weren’t who they were pretending to be. He never had a chance to raise an alarm or even brandish his weapon.
Tommy clocked him squarely in the nose with a jab and then knocked him out with a roundhouse to the jaw. The guard was unconscious before he hit the ground.
Sean had stepped over next to his friend to assist and now stared down at the man. Tommy had always been a bruiser. Handy in a fight, though often sloppy. He frequently got hurt almost as badly as his opponents.
“Quick, let’s get him in the back of the truck,” Sean said.
Tommy grabbed his arms. Sean took the feet. They carried the guard over to the tailgate and with a few grunts dumped him into the truck bed. Sean picked up the assault rifle off the ground and checked to make sure there were plenty of rounds in the magazine and one in the chamber.
“At least we picked up a few more bullets.”