Sean’s outfit was soaked in sweat. His mouth felt like he’d eaten a pile of chalk.
He’d just finished hiding the big body when the side door opened again and the three men returned. Instinctively, he ducked down behind the boxes next to the prostrate corpse.
One of the men split off from the other two and walked straight toward Sean’s position. Sean looked over to his right and noticed his pistol lying against the wall less than ten feet away. His head snapped back to the left. He watched the man continue walking his way. Sean readied himself to dive for the pistol if he had to. It would be a last resort. At least that’s what he told himself.
The guy stopped next to the driver’s side door. He never bothered to look around for anything suspicious. Instead, he simply opened the door and started the truck’s motor.
So that’s the driver.
Sean glanced down at the body next to him, wondering who he was. Not that it mattered. As long as he wasn’t driving the truck with the beacons, the mission still had a chance to succeed.
The truck backed out of its spot and wheeled around behind the others. Soon, all the engines rumbled to life, and the warehouse filled with diesel fumes. Sean waited patiently until the convoy and all its escorts were gone before he left his hiding place.
Moments before, the building had been a beehive of activity. Now it was like a tomb.
He spun around and ran over to where his pistol still lay on the ground. After picking it up, he gave it a quick once-over while trotting over to the building’s mouth.
At the main entrance, Sean stayed close to the wall and looked around the corner. The last of the workers’ pickup trucks disappeared around the concrete wall, leaving the entire lot empty.
They sure left in a hurry.
Sean started to have second thoughts about the mission. What if they’d been wrong? What if each truck was going to a separate location? It was possible.
He reassured himself that even if the latter were true, he and his comrades could at least track that shipment. From there, they could get more intel from someone at that site.
People had a bad habit of talking too much, especially when inflicted with intense pain.
He shook off the idea. Whoever was shipping all those missiles was planning something big. Sean didn’t know what it was. Based on the number of missiles, he guessed someone was planning a sort of military strike. That meant it would be tactical, localized, centered on one or just a few select targets.
Sean jogged out to the street and looked both ways. It was just as empty as the warehouse property. He heard someone scream in the distance but couldn’t pinpoint the sound’s point of origin. It was one of the many random, bloodcurdling sounds in a town with a penchant for atrocity. The less time Sean spent there, the better.
He picked up his pace and made a left at the next intersection, ran to the next block, and then cut to the left again. He found Kanu smoking a cigarette, sitting a few parking spaces ahead of where he’d been before.
The Somali saw Sean approaching and started the SUV. He flicked his smoking cigarette onto the ground then reached over to the passenger door and flung it open. Sean hopped in, and before his butt hit the seat Kanu punched the gas and sped away. The door slammed shut from the force. As he made the first turn, Sean nearly toppled over onto him. Fortunately, he’d grabbed the handle over the door and managed to stay in the passenger seat.
“Something wrong?” Sean asked.
Kanu didn’t reply immediately, which caused Sean to think the answer was yes. Once they were out of the city and back on the bumpy dirt road, he slowed down a tad.
“It’s best if we don’t hang around too long. Did you do what you came to do?”
Sean finally got his breathing back to normal. “Yeah. Taken care of. Was a little harder than I expected.”
“I don’t need details about it.”
This guy sucks at chitchat.
“Right. So yeah, done deal. I guess we’ll head back to the beach then?”
“Yes,” Kanu said with a nod. “I will take you back to where you left your boat. Then we will part ways.”
Sean pressed his lips tight together before he spoke. “Okay then. Sounds good. I appreciate the help.”
The rest of the journey was made in silence except for the rumbling of the tires and the occasional flicking sound Kanu’s lighter made when he lit a cigarette. The man was visibly on edge, though Sean wasn’t sure what had him so nervous.
The yellow sun faded to orange as it neared the silhouette of the horizon to the west. Out to the east, Sean could see the abysmal darkness of night merging with the ocean beneath. Occasional whitecaps broke the deep blue surface.
They passed through a fishing village — the same one they’d seen before. It was little more than seven or eight buildings lining both sides of the road. A few more were farther off to the side, toward the coast. Some decorative lights hung under one of the roofs and wrapped around the building. Such decoration was common for places that served alcohol, so Sean immediately assumed it was a bar.
They drove another ten minutes before Kanu pulled off the road and stopped the SUV in the clearing where they’d met earlier in the day.
“Thanks for your help,” Sean said. “I appreciate it.”
“You are most welcome. I suggest you get back to your boat as quickly as possible. Strange things happen at night. It’s not a good idea to be out.”
Sean thanked him for the cryptic advice and grabbed his stuff. He stayed low as he crept back through the bushes toward the beach and his fishing dinghy. There was still enough light that he didn’t need his flashlight, but that would change soon if he didn’t hurry.
And then there was the issue of guiding the fishing boat out into the sea again. He’d rather not do that in the darkness. The yacht would have plenty of lights on. But if the current took him too far off course, he’d never be able to spot it. It was yet another part of this whole plan they’d not fully thought through.
He heard the SUV spin out on the rocky soil as Kanu drove away. Sean barely looked back over his shoulder. His focus was on getting back to the yacht.
The tide had come in while Sean was in Mogadishu. He knew it would and had taken the chance of leaving his little boat on the edge of the water anyway. It wasn’t like he had a choice. Now, as dusk turned to night, the tide would be near its lowest point.
He arrived at the edge of the bushes where the grassy dunes turned to white sand. He closed his eyes for a brief second and said a little prayer that the dinghy was where he left it.
Sean stepped out of the shrubbery and scanned the beach. The boat wasn’t where he dropped anchor. But it hadn’t gone far. It had drifted fifty yards to the south, a little farther on the beach than he’d intended. He wasn’t going to complain. Sean was just relieved the thing was there.
He hurried across the sand to the boat and tossed his stuff inside. Then he removed his sweat-infused shirt and threw it in as well. The cool evening breeze wafted over him. Before he started hauling the boat back into the water, Sean waded out until he was knee deep and then fell back into the foamy waves. A couple of seconds later the next wave crashed over him. The cool water felt amazing as it washed over his body. He’d been so hot and sweaty all day; it was the next best thing to a cool glass of sweet iced tea on a blazing July afternoon.
Sean felt the sand under his feet as the water pulled at his body to carry him out to sea. Break’s over.
He didn’t have time to waste, but washing off had only taken thirty seconds. He sloshed back over to the boat and grabbed the rope with the kettle bell on the end. Lifting the heavy weight with both hands, he carried it out into the water until the rope went taut.