Choke Point

THIRTY-FOUR

At exactly 7:41 a.m. local time, a certain pilot of interest named Bakri Takana left the Hotel al-Massira in a rental car and drove directly to the Fadakno warehouses.

Sixteen minutes later a motorcycle courier arrived, parked his bike outside the main office for about three minutes, then climbed back on board and motored off, turning out on to the highway, assumedly bound for the airport.

Though only speculation at this point, Ross believed that the courier had delivered Takana’s payment, then as usual had gone to the airport to both deliver mail and act as a forward scout to verify that the route was clear.

Pepper and 30K would confirm that. ‘Okay, guys, he’s on the way. Stand by.’

A single, suppressed, and expertly placed shot to the motorcycle courier’s front tyre sent the man skidding off the road and into the dirt, where he spun out and nearly crashed, the smell of burning rubber and freshly dug-up sand filling the air around them.

30K couldn’t believe that Pepper had made that damned shot as he hauled himself out of the ditch where’d they’d been lying and went charging over to the courier before the guy could reach for his cell phone.

‘Hold it,’ 30K hollered in Arabic.

He was just a kid really, barely twenty, with a narrow face and a very Western hipster knitted cap pulled over his shaggy hair. His face screwed up into a knot as he looked down the barrel of 30K’s rifle.

‘I won’t hurt you,’ 30K added, his eyes hidden behind sunglasses, his voice muffled behind the desert camouflage team scarf covering his nose and mouth.

The scarves were a Ghost tradition, beginning with your graduation and acceptance into the GST. 30K’s scarf was modified with a skull’s grin; Kozak’s was painted like a cyborg with battle damage; Pepper’s resembled the face of a Texas bull; and Ross’s looked like a scuba diving regulator in his mouth.

At the moment, 30K had forgotten about how frightening he looked wearing his grim reaper, and the kid’s sudden tears reminded him of that.

‘I’m just a mail courier. I don’t have any money.’

30K almost laughed. ‘We’re not here to rob you. What’s your name?’

‘Youssef.’

‘Well, Youssef, today’s your lucky day.’

Pepper walked over, wearing his bull face scarf and holding a wad of cash. ‘You want to make some money?’ he asked the kid.

‘How?’

30K lifted the boy’s chin with his rifle’s barrel. ‘All you have to do is talk. We have enough money to buy you a new bike and a new life.’

‘Okay, okay. I will talk to you.’

Without thinking, 30K released an onslaught, his mouth operating on full auto. ‘What happened back at the warehouse? Where did you come from? Did you deliver money? Who hired you? Are you going to the airport now?’

The kid visibly trembled.

‘One question at a time,’ Pepper told 30K.

A pickup truck came roaring up the highway, pulled over, and out hopped Maziq and two of the NLA troops.

‘Get the motorcycle in the truck right now,’ Maziq ordered his men. Then he faced Pepper. ‘You need to get on your bike and get going.’

‘Roger that.’

Maziq came over to 30K. ‘You get what we need?’

30K glanced to the courier. ‘Okay, Youssef. This is another one of my friends. You can tell him everything.’

‘You won’t kill me?’

‘Hey, we don’t have time. Start talking. NOW.’

Ross studied his Cross-Com’s HUD, now displaying the signal from the tracker Kozak had planted on the missile launchers. They’d been loaded on to the truck, and their boy Takana was now behind the wheel and heading out of the warehouse.

‘Ghost Team, listen up. The shipment’s en route. Maziq, how’s the second team making out?’

‘They’re already in place and set to disrupt airport security if we need ’em. Keeping quiet for now. We intercepted the courier. Just finished interrogating him. Pepper’s on his way to the hangar.’

‘Excellent work. 30K, we get anything out of that kid?’

‘Not much, boss. He makes the money run. Picks up the package in Tripoli at another Fadakno warehouse.’

‘Names?’

‘No, sorry. He doesn’t know the names of the people who give him the money. He says he has no idea where the shipments go or what’s in them, but he checks the route and gives the airplane mechanics the heads-up when the shipment is coming. That’s all he does.’

‘You trust him?’

‘Yeah, he’s too young and stupid to be given any more responsibility. He’s just a runner like we thought.’

‘Okay, but don’t release him till we’re done.’

‘You got it — but technically speaking, is that kidnapping, sir?’

Ross snickered. ‘Hell, no. We’re just giving him time to count his tax-free donation in a safe and comfortable environment.’

30K laughed. ‘Gotcha.’

Pepper rolled on to the access road running parallel to the hangars, the motorcycle’s grumble announcing his approach. Oh, yeah, he was bad to the bone.

He throttled up, dust swirling in his wake as he sped directly past the first few hangars, turning sharply past the open doors of the last one and roaring inside –

Where the two mechanics swung around, took one look at him, got pissed off, then began yelling at him from their perch atop their maintenance ladder.

As Pepper turned off the engine, lowered the kickstand, and began to dismount, the taller of the two men came rushing down and confronted him. ‘Where’s Youssef?’

Pepper had removed his bull scarf but still wore his dark sunglasses. He backhanded sweat from his forehead and just looked at the man.

‘I said, Who are you?’

‘Youssef called in sick,’ Pepper finally answered. ‘I’m the new guy.’

‘They said they’d call me if there was any change. Why didn’t they call? Is the truck on its way?’

‘Yes. Those filthy bastards should’ve called you.’

The mechanic’s gaze narrowed. ‘You’re a foreigner.’

Pepper smiled. ‘Of course.’

The man muttered something, then said, ‘The plane will be ready.’ The guy turned back toward the ladder.

Pepper stood there, still wearing his stupid grin.

‘What do you want?’

Pepper had the X3 Taser pistol in his fist before the mechanic could react. The safety was off, and a pair of laser dots had lined up vertically on the mechanic’s chest, with the top dot flashing to mark the target.

At the same time, a second pair of laser dots appeared on the shorter mechanic’s chest, these also emitted from Pepper’s weapon. A total of three cartridges could be inserted into the X3’s box-shaped barrel, each containing a pair of probes, and now two of those cartridges were about to be emptied –

Simultaneously.

Pepper thumbed a side button to ‘arc’ the charge, the weapon crackling with electricity.

There was no need to do this, other than to scare the shit out of the guys. Pepper couldn’t help himself.

The mechanics backed away, and the first looked to the workbench, about to make his move.

And then, with the crackling growing louder — like something out of Frankenstein’s lab — the shorter mechanic cried, ‘Don’t shoot!’ He was about to swing himself off the ladder like a gymnast when –

Pepper squeezed the trigger, firing both sets of probes, the attached wires zigzagging away from the barrel like folded fishing line, the mechanics now screaming like medieval torture chamber victims as they fell toward the deck, writhing. A weird metallic smell made Pepper grimace.

‘Oh, come on, guys, man up,’ he told them in Arabic. ‘Take the pain. It won’t last long.’

An airport security truck carrying 30K, along with four NLA troops, rolled up outside, squeaking to a halt. 30K hopped from the passenger’s side and came jogging into the hangar.

‘Hey, what do we got?’ he cried, his voice echoing.

‘Get him,’ Pepper ordered, pointing to the shorter guy lying across part of the ladder.

While 30K hustled past him to comply, Pepper removed the Taser probes on the taller one, then dug his arms beneath the mechanic and dragged him up and toward the truck, handing him off to the NLA troops.

30K delivered his man to the truck, then told the driver to get out of there. The mechanics, along with the courier, would be taken back to the church and detained until Ross gave the order for their release. The truck squealed off with a rush of dust and gravel.

Pepper waved over 30K toward the wall of pallets to their left. ‘When’s the last time you drove a forklift?’

30K shrugged. ‘How hard can it be?’