Hail Warning

Snake Island, Nigeria

The two soldiers each removed a part of the missile package. Out of the case, one guard removed the launcher, while the other guard removed the projectile. The other case remained closed.

Kara asked Kornev in a whisper, “What’s going on?”

Kornev turned his head toward her and responded in a whisper, “It looks like Diambu is going to test fire one of the missiles.”

“You mean he’s going to fire it?” Kara asked in a panicked voice.

Kornev turned his head slightly and whispered back, “No, he’s going to throw it. Of course, he’s going to fire it. That’s what test firing means.”

The launch tube was delivered into the waiting hands of Afua. He waited patiently for his other man to deliver the projectile. While waiting, Afua set down the launcher with its back end resting on his foot to prevent the weapon from sitting in the sand. The muzzle of the launch tube was pointing upward toward the sky. The soldier who had slowly liberated the projectile from its case walked over to Afua and gingerly threaded the base of the missile into the mouth of the launcher. The missile slid in smoothly, making a metallic clicking sound as it seated and locked itself into the tube.

Alarm bells in Kara’s mind went off. She looked out to the drone, Seagulls, still thirty yards out over the water. How in the hell was she going to signal that Diambu was going to fire the missile? And then she realized that none of that mattered. The only thing that mattered was time. Or more to the point, timing.

“Remember when you taught me years ago how to load and fire this weapon? Afua asked Kornev. “I still remember everything.”

Kornev said, “Yes, I remember. But I don’t see why there is a need to test it now. You didn’t need to test it back then, and nothing between us has changed.”

“Yes, things have changed between us,” Afua glanced suspiciously at Kara standing safely behind Kornev. He added, “Things are not the same at all.”

Afua put the missile up onto his right shoulder and placed his eye into the viewfinder. “You better hope that this missile works correctly, my friend.”

“You need to have a target,” Kornev said. “It will seek a heat source.”

“I have already taken care of that,” Afua said.

Kornev looked out on the horizon to both his left and right. There was no target to be seen.

For a moment, Kara thought that maybe Afua had discovered that Seagulls was a drone and was going to shoot it down. But that didn’t happen.

Less than a minute later, the steady beat of a propeller airplane could be heard off in the distance. The sound of the engine was familiar to Kornev. And when he saw the plane, Afua’s new target, all his questions were answered.

“That’s my cargo plane,” Kornev yelled.

Afua watched and waited while the plane went into a steep turn; if the plane maintained its current arc, it would eventually complete a 180-degree turn. Its new course would have it flying parallel to the beach, passing directly in front of the group, less than a mile out over Badagry Creek.

“This morning, I had one of my men tell your pilots you were extending your stay with us. They were instructed to go home,” Afua said.

As the cargo plane completed its arc, Afua began tracking the aircraft in the weapon’s viewfinder. The plane eventually leveled off and began to pass right in front of the Diambu compound.

“That plane cost me a lot of money,” Kornev complained.

“I’ll pay you back,” Afua said, but the jihadi was barely listening to the Russian at this point. Diambu was transfixed on keeping the cargo plane centered in the viewfinder of the Verba surface-to-air missile. The launcher’s multispectral optical seeker came to life and beeped once, indicating the missile had locked onto a heat source.

Kara stood back up on her tiptoes and whispered into Kornev’s ear, “When he pulls that trigger, we need to get the hell out of here.”

Kornev turned his head and whispered, “I’m with you on that. If that missile misses the target, I don’t want to be around for the aftermath.”

Very slowly, Kara and Kornev began to take baby steps backwards, placing as much distance as possible between the jihadi and themselves.

Someone yelled, “What’s going on?”

Kara heard the voice coming from the surf in front of them. Baako was about waist deep as he began walking out of the water. Apparently, he had completed his swim.

Afua acted as if he didn’t hear his brother. Instead of answering him, Afua pressed the weapon’s trigger.

In the blink of an eye, the missile ignited. In a great magnificent whoosh, the projectile left the launch tube and rocketed skyward.

“Run. Go, go!” Kara urged Kornev. They began running toward the compound.

Afua let the launcher fall from his shoulder to land on the soft sand at his feet. He watched the missile climb and begin making a slight turn to the left, arcing toward the slow-moving cargo plane. And then, just as the two objects were set to collide, the missile streaked past the plane.

“What the hell just happened?” Afua asked Kornev. The Nigerian never took his eyes off the missile.

Now, well past its intended target, the missile began to turn. A year ago, when Afua had been trained on the weapon, Kornev had told him if the missile were to miss its target, it would attempt to turn to make a second pass, tracking the same heat signature in the sky.

Afua watched intently as the missile made a sharp crisp turn and began to head back toward the plane.

At any moment, Afua fully expected the missile to hit the plane. He watched with anticipation, holding his breath, and waited for the midair explosion. But once again, the missile missed its target.

“What is happening?!” Afua yelled, turning to Kornev for an explanation. The Nigerian was both surprised and perplexed that Kornev was no longer standing there. There was no Kornev. There was no Tonya. He looked up toward the house and saw Kornev and his girlfriend running up the path.

The soldiers next to Afua saw the same thing. They quickly put two and two together, and Afua’s men began running in opposite directions. Afua didn’t make any attempt to run. He hadn’t run from anything his entire life, and he wasn’t about to start. Instead, the jihadi turned back toward the missile. He could no longer see the profile of the weapon. All he could see was a dot that represented the nose of the warhead. The Verba was streaking directly toward him.

Afua held up a clenched fist and let out a guttural scream of defiance. Traveling at Mach 3, the warhead hit Diambu dead center in the middle of his forehead. A concussive explosion shook the trees and bushes. As the shockwave danced across the sand, traveling out and up, the windowpanes and sliding glass doors of the compound above were blown out of their heavy frames. The guards that had begun running down the beach didn’t stand a chance. They survived the initial explosion, but the ensuing shrapnel shredded their bodies like they were made from mere cheesecloth. They went down face-first into the deep sand.

The shockwave of the blast skipped across Badagry Creek and threw Baako back into the waves. Flames and flying debris fanned out in all directions, burning and shredding everything in its wake. A thick cloud of smoke, sand and vaporized vegetation formed over the crater where the missile struck.

Twenty seconds later, Baako poked his head out of the water and looked around. Once he realized the fireworks were over, he slowly walked out of the surf and onto the beach. Where his brother had been standing now existed an immense blackened crater slowly filling with saltwater. Afua, his twin brother, was simply gone. He had been cremated within a cloud of white silica that was softly falling from the sky like gritty snow. Although his twin was dead, he knew Afua’s past would have eventually caught up with him. He was just grateful he had sent the entire family off to Lagos to pick up supplies to have some fun in the sun when he had heard about the test firing. Relief swept over him as much as did the sorrow and overwhelming anger. Baako put his face up toward the sky, closed his eyes and said a prayer for his brother. He had always known that someday Afua would pay the ultimate price for his sins on this earth, but it was up to God to take his life. Not up to the arms dealer or his — his—

Baako lowered his face and opened his eyes. Where was the Russian and his girlfriend? Baako scanned the beach. To his right, he saw one of his brother’s guards in a heap on the ground. And, then to his left, he saw another guard had also met his demise. Baako looked up toward the house and saw Kornev and Tonya climbing the deck’s stairs, retreating into the house.

Without giving it a second thought, Baako began running after them.