Of course, with a .50-caliber round, one shot was likely all you’d need if your aim was on. The damage it caused to any human target was absolutely devastating.
“We drive on this road for an hour and then take one of the side roads into the city. This one will be blocked by one of the warlord’s men. They don’t take kindly to strangers, as you mentioned earlier. It would be best for us to avoid them.”
No kidding.
Sean didn’t bring up the fact that his driver was overstating the obvious. The less interaction they had with one of the warlord’s men, the better. The problem was those types were all over the place around the outskirts of Mogadishu. And while Kanu apparently knew a back way into town, Sean wasn’t entirely convinced that would be clear either. He didn’t have a choice. It was Kanu’s way or no way.
Conversation between the two was sparse. Sean got the feeling the man didn’t want to chat. It wasn’t that he was unfriendly. But keeping an anonymous persona also entailed not saying too much. To anyone. Perhaps Kanu also respected the fact that he was hosting an American government agent. There had been no lies or half truths when the transportation arrangement was made. Kanu wasn’t stupid. Americans wanting to get into Mogadishu, unnoticed, and then out again just as efficiently? That reeked of some kind of special mission. So yeah, the Somali driver didn’t mind keeping things quiet, for both parties.
Kanu smoked like a chimney and during the course of the hour drive, went through most of the contents in his cigarette pack. Sean didn’t judge. He imagined living in such a dangerous area came with more than a few vices. If he lived there, he’d probably have to smoke constantly just to keep his nerves in check. The truck’s ancient air conditioning unit didn’t work. It blew air out through the vents, but it was the same warm, dusty air coming in from the windows.
The outline of the city appeared on the horizon about an hour into the drive. Sean could make out a few of the long, skinny towers that sounded the ritual prayers to the citizens five times a day. More buildings came into view, blurred by the heat waves rippling off the earth’s surface.
“Hold on,” Kanu said.
He slowed the SUV and jerked the wheel to the left onto a rough dirt road that ran parallel to the city. Deep ruts carved through the road in some places from erosion during wet seasons. Kanu’s vehicle bounced and jolted through the terrain, but he kept up their speed. Sean glanced back in the rearview mirror at the clouds of dust the SUV was kicking up in their wake, but Kanu seemed unconcerned so he didn’t bring it up.
As far as Sean was concerned, the guy knew what he was doing. Best to trust his expertise. After all, they were playing in Kanu’s sandbox now.
The SUV hit a huge hump in the road and went airborne for almost two seconds before it crashed back to earth with a thud. The occupants jostled around, but Kanu kept his hands on the wheel, guiding the vehicle through a couple of quick turns.
“You take this shortcut often?” Sean asked.
Kanu nodded. At least it looked like a nod. His head may have been bobbing from the bouncy road. “Yes. Two, occasionally three times a week.”
“And they haven’t caught on to your little shortcut?”
“The warlords don’t want any trouble. People who take the main road into the city won’t put up much of a fight. But someone who knows these roads could be trouble. Smugglers use them all the time. And smugglers are usually well armed. Best to save their bullets and men for the less troublesome travelers.”
Good point, I guess. “Makes sense.” Sean wanted to question why Kanu was in such an all-out hurry if he wasn’t worried about anyone following. He figured it was because they were on a tight schedule, so there was no point in complaining about it.
They reached a long bend in the road that eventually straightened out and headed right for the western side of the city. The terrain smoothed somewhat the closer they got until it transitioned awkwardly from dirt to rough asphalt.
Sean looked back at the odd road construction. “I guess they decided to only pave so far.” He turned around and faced forward.
Kanu cast him a sidelong glance. “The government doesn’t have much money, and what it does have rarely goes to fixing things properly.”
“Sounds like the local warlords are taking taxes of their own.”
“Yes. But it is changing. Their numbers grow smaller by the day. And their territory is shrinking. Perhaps someday order will be restored to the city. For now, we must take precautions.” His eyes flashed down at the hand cannon.
Kanu slowed the SUV as they approached some of the outlying homes on the city’s periphery. Most were shanties — rickety structures of concrete and corrugated metal that looked less like homes and more like stand-alone storage units. Children played in a dirt lot near the street. They ran back and forth, kicking a round ball that looked like it was made from leather bookmarks all stitched together.
“You should cover up,” Kanu said. “Don’t want anyone seeing an American in my truck.”
Sean caught the selfish spin on his driver’s comment and let a grin cross his face before he pulled the black mask over. He took a quick look in the mirror. With the mask on he either looked like a ninja or a terrorist.
Kanu twisted his head to the right and examined Sean’s disguise. “You look like someone who is up to no good,” he said. “You’ll fit right in.”
29
Sean knew how rough Mogadishu could be, but his knowledge was secondhand, delivered to him by American media outlets and pamphlets he’d read before departing on the mission.
Nothing he’d heard did justice to the level of absolute desperation and poverty of Mogadishu’s slums.
The buildings — some painted in faded colors, others in brilliant white — looked like they might collapse at any moment. Every person who passed on the streets and sidewalks had the look that they were eyeing the Toyota, hoping it might — at any moment — break down and present them with fresh prey. Their vapid eyes gazed on the passing vehicle like they were zombies — lifeless and uncaring.
“They are a starving people,” Kanu said, breaking the silence. “They’re hungry, but they are also starved for education and work.”
Sean’s first thought was how desperate they looked. Kanu’s comments only added to that impression.
“Nothing will change until the warlords are removed from power,” Kanu went on. “But the people have to overthrow them. It can’t come from the outside.”
Sean agreed with a solemn nod.
He was about to say something about the nobility of a revolution when Kanu cut him off.
“This is where I will drop you off.” He pointed at a junkyard half a block away. “It is right next to the warehouse you’re looking for.”
When the Toyota reached the next intersection, Kanu turned right and eased the vehicle into an empty parking spot. He turned off the engine and pointed at the fence surrounding the junkyard.
“There is a side entrance to this place not far from here. The door hangs open most of the time. It’s locked with a chain and padlock, but you can squeeze through easily enough. From there, you can access the warehouse lot on the other side.”
“Sounds easy enough.” He wanted to ask why Kanu knew so much about this side entrance but decided to let it slide. No point in angling for inconsequential details.