Choke Point

FIFTY-THREE

‘They arranged to have the weapons transferred to another container — either in Massawa or while en route to Aden,’ Mitchell told Ross via a video call. ‘They searched the boxes and found our beacon.’

‘We think they poisoned their driver, too. Any ID on him?’

‘Nothing so far. But I’m afraid the weapons could be anywhere now. I’m sorry, Captain. Time to come home.’

Every muscle tensed, the blood feeling as though it had ceased running through Ross’s veins. He knew if he spoke now, argued in any way, he’d regret it. The major was right.

Or was he?

There was something gnawing at Ross, something about that driver that had been strangely familiar, but he’d been unable to make the connection.

And there was a connection. There had to be; otherwise the feeling wouldn’t persist.

‘I understand, sir. However, we’ve still got some skirmishes in the city. Once we think it’s safe enough, we’ll have Oliver get us back to the airport, if you could send us a ride back.’

‘Roger that.’

‘And, sir, what about the cocaine we tagged in Tobruk? Second team find anything?’

‘Believe it or not, it’s still sitting there in that warehouse. They know they’re being watched, and they don’t want to reveal more of their shipping route. They’ll move it, but they’ll send it someplace else — maybe even back to Colombia.’

‘I wonder if Takana gave us up at the airport. I shouldn’t have let him do all the talking.’

‘Honestly, Ross, I would’ve made the same call, and I don’t think he did — not with his family at stake. They had observers and something spooked them. Don’t beat yourself up over it.’

‘Roger that, sir.’

‘I’ll contact you once your evac is en route.’

‘Thank you, sir.’

Ross slammed shut his notebook computer, shifted across Oliver’s living room, and went to the window, where below the emergency crews scrambled to put out the warehouse fire.

The F-word escaped his lips three times as Pepper reached his side. ‘It’s okay, sir, we did our best. We can walk away feeling confident about that.’

Ross turned back toward the sofa, where 30K and Kozak were seated and sipping warm tea, their eyes bloodshot, faces ashen. They’d nearly shaken hands with the reaper — and so had Pepper.

And for what? To walk away after coming this far?

Balling his hands into fists, Ross faced Pepper and said, ‘Mitchell’s cutting me some slack now, but they’ll hang me when we get back.’

Pepper took a deep breath. ‘You mind if I speak bluntly?’

Ross couldn’t help the sarcasm in his tone. ‘Permission granted.’

‘I get what you’re feeling. First big op. New guy. Not even from the Army. Trying to prove something. You want it all to go down by the numbers, but with us, it never does. It’s sloppy work. That’s why we get it. Always loose ends. We try to put out fires before they start, but while we’re doing that, some asshole is playing with gasoline right behind us. But what am I saying? You were a SEAL. You know the drill. They won’t hang you.’

A chill suddenly woke at the base of Ross’s neck. ‘What did you say?’

Pepper shrugged. ‘You want me to repeat the whole thing?’

‘No, no, you said I know the drill. That’s it!’

‘That’s what?’

Ross stormed back to his computer, threw back the lid, and logged on with shaking fingers.

‘Sir, what the hell?’ Pepper asked.

‘That guy with the tattoos. Those weren’t just any tattoos. I’ve seen them before. I just couldn’t remember till now. It was back in ’05. We were doing some anti-terrorism drills in Jakarta, and we had a couple of local liaisons to work with. I remember one guy having all the same tattoos. He’d told us about them, but I still can’t remember what the hell he said. It was Jakarta, though.’

Ross dug out his phone and called Diaz. ‘The driver with the tattoos. They’re Indonesian. See what you can get on them. Specifics. And I need it yesterday.’

‘Shit, I’ll have it for you last week.’ Diaz winked and broke the link.

With a rising pulse, Ross called their old buddy Maziq from the ISA and put in a request for a list of every ship that had left Massawa and Aden, along with all their destinations. Maziq said he’d establish the search parameters and get back to him ASAP.

‘Sir, you think we got a lead here?’ asked Pepper.

‘Hell, yeah, I do. The way you beat these guys is through their mistakes. The little things they overlook.’

Ross clicked on the pictures Kozak had taken of the driver. The guy had been wearing that sleeveless T-shirt so they could see how the tattoos came in black lines down the center of his neck, across his Adam’s apple, then spanned his shoulders like an oversize necklace. More lines ran vertically down his arms and across the backs of his hands, while rings encompassed his wrists.

Oliver, who’d been listening to them from his own computer station, lifted his voice. ‘I’ve heard back from one of my contacts down at the terminal. The driver’s name was Shihab. He was a foreman there, but he’d only been working for about three months. He handled special deliveries and didn’t talk with anyone. He might’ve stayed at a private residence while he was here since my contacts at the hotels don’t show any registry under his name, nor have any of them seen him. With those tattoos, he’d be fairly memorable.’

‘Thanks for that, Oliver,’ said Ross. ‘And I’m telling you, I think this guy’s the key.’

‘I don’t know,’ said 30K from the sofa. ‘Yeah, you’re right about beating these guys through their mistakes, but how did they screw up? I mean, the missiles are gone and we’re sitting here …’

Ross held up an index finger. ‘You just wait. And I’ll show you.’