OUTCAST Ops: African Firestorm

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Saleh Narsai sipped his coffee and stared out over the ocean. The last day and a half had been exhausting for him and the crew of both his ship and the Saad el Melik. There was no telling when an enemy might move to take the ship, and so he had only slept for thirty minutes in the last day. There was so much to do.

The first step had been the transfer of the necessary materials from the Saad el Melik to the Northstar. Timing the transfers between satellite passes and hiding the goods between the container stacks had been time-consuming. They had done most of the transfer at night with only just enough light to see by.

The second step had been the most nerve-racking, the removal of the warheads from the container. Despite Dr. Masood's assurances that the warhead was safe to move, it had taken several hours of back-breaking work to take both warheads out of the container, using a jury-rigged hoist to lower both to the deck, where they were covered by more tarps.

But still there was more to do. A construction crew from the Saad el Melik had begun the construction of launchers between two container stacks, while a second crew pulled tarps across the spaces to conceal the activity from overhead observation. Masood's team attended to the warheads and the missiles under another set of tarps in another space. The work was hot and brutal, the temperature under the tarps rising as high as a hundred and fifteen degrees during the day, even higher when the crew used wielding torches and other power tools. The work was continuous, stopping only long enough for a quick meal and a shift change after six hours.

On top of all that, Yabaal and his pirate hoodlums were nosing around like cats in a new house, trying to discover what was going on around the ship. They were promised weapons in return for their help, and Narsai would see to it they got their share of automatic rifles, but they sure as hell didn’t need to find out about the nuclear capabilities. While they were fine cover to hide the ICA's involvement in the plot to utilize weapons of mass destruction — let the world think this was just another run-of-the-mill East African pirate attack — Narsai found the Somali warlord to be greedy, arrogant, and bullying. It had taken all of Narsai's limited diplomatic skills to keep Yabaal and his men from going through the containers the moment Riyad had left.

Realizing that he had to placate the warlord, Narsai had allowed "limited plundering" of the center hold containers, where the most valuable cargo was stored. Watching a bunch of semi-savages run around in high-end fashions from Paris, trying to figure out how to use MP3 players and carry 60” TVs to their boats had left Narsai with the belief that their Somali allies were almost useless for anything but stopping bullets.

After that, Yabaal and his men were warned to stay off the Northstar for a couple of days. So far, the pirates had stayed away, but Narsai didn't know how much longer that would last. He'd assigned by a dozen ICA soldiers to guard duty with clear orders to shoot any non-ICA member approaching the ship.

"Captain!" Musa called out.

Narsai turned. "What?"

The helmsman gestured to the satellite phone, and Narsai realized it was ringing. He strode over and snatched it up. "Yes?"

"Is everything all right?" the voice of Yasir Ilshu asked. "It was a long time before you answered."

A flash of anger coursed through Narsai, but it died nearly as quick as it came. "I've been under a bit of stress lately.”

"Contractors giving you trouble?"

Contractors. What a lovely euphemism. It was a given that the Great Satan could listen in on any and all conversations, searching for keywords to track the people involved in the triggering exchange, to obliterate them with a drone strike. In the face of this unpleasant reality, Colonel Riyad had always stressed the need to keep any electronic communications as brief and as cryptic as possible.

Narsai said, "They've been trouble from the start since the boss went away. The chief contractor has been very demanding."

"As expected. Did you give them a bonus?"

"Yes, for all the good it did."

"The product?"

"The samples are still being prepared. We've kept the contractors away from them."

"Good. I'm calling to report that the task the boss sent me on has been completed. The negotiations with the other party were short but complete. Their head man was very receptive."

"Good," Narsai said. With SeaStar crippled and its CEO dead, it would make it harder to trace the cargo.

"However, it appears we've attracted the attention of a third party."

Narsai felt his stomach drop. "Who?"

"I'm not sure yet, but it might be our American competitors. Whoever it is, they tried to cut themselves into our business."

"That isn't good news."

"It isn't," Ilshu replied. "Our local affiliate will handle future discussions with them."

"Are you still in South Africa?"

"No. We're on our way back. The boss must be alerted to the developments in South Africa."

"I will try and contact him at once," Narsai said.

"Please do. I am not confident the affiliate can handle the negations with the Americans. Their hiring practices have not impressed me."

Narsai pulled the satellite phone from his ear and stared at it for a couple of seconds in surprise before putting it back to his ear. "But he has been a loy—"

"The boss expects results in addition to loyalty. If he can pull off these negotiations, then I will say no more."

"I understand.”

"That is all."

Narsai heard a click and the phone went silent.

"What is wrong?" Musa asked.

Narsai turned to bark at him, but stopped with a sigh. "That was Ilshu. He said the operation in South Africa was successful, but someone, maybe the Americans, are now involved."

Musa spat. "The devil incarnate! I wish I could kill all of them!"

"We will get our chance later," Narsai said. "But first we must complete this task. I need to call the colonel. He will not like the news."

"Better you than me."

Narsai walked away and dialed Riyad's number from memory.

The safehouse was tucked away at the base of Tabletop Mountain, with a spectacular view of the ocean from the front balcony. It also featured a two-car garage, and was isolated at the end of a road. Ashcroft was waiting for them when the two cars carrying the OUTCAST team arrived at the address he had supplied to Stephen over the phone. He unlocked the door and ushered them inside.

"Welcome to Her Majesty’s safehouse codename, SANDSTONE.”

The interior was stark white, with minimal furniture. "It hasn't been used in the last five or six years," Ashcroft said. "Cutbacks back in London and focusing on the War on Terror has dried up the need for safehouses in places like this. But I hang onto it, just in case."

"You own this place?" Stephen asked.

"Technically, Mandlenkosi's family owns it, but I fronted the money, and when I pass on, it'll be theirs free and clear. You can stay here as long as you need to."

"That won't be very long," Tanner said. "We need a table."

Ashcroft pointed to a doorway. "Dining room's over there."

Tanner led the team into the dining room. "Everything we took from the bodies, on the table."

A couple of minutes later, the wallets, keys, cell phones and other items were in a pile on the table.

"We’re looking for something that will give us a lead on whoever sent the hit team."

"Can I help?" Ashcroft asked.

"If you want," Tanner said. "But we don't want to impose any more on you then we have to."

"It's no bother at all, dear boy. I'm retired. Besides, I need a break from my writing and a couple of hours helping you won't hurt."

The front door opened and Mandlenkosi walked in. "I have the food!”

"Put it in the kitchen and come help us," Ashcroft told him.

"All right," Tanner said. "Danielle, get your laptop ready to input ID info. The rest of you pick up a wallet and find an ID. Read the name off it for Danielle to run through the computer." He picked up a wallet, opened it and found a driver's license. "Habib Hakim."

"Djmal Ali," Naomi read out.

"Fadoul Yahya," Stephen read.

"Wahid Tamrez," Liam said.

Ashcroft's eyes widened. "Let me see that!" he said, reaching across the table and snatching the driver's license out of the former SEAL's hands. He stared at the card. "Oh my word!”

"What is it?" Tanner demanded.

"Wahid Tamrez," Ashcroft said, holding up the card. "He’s Kamal Hassan's right-hand man and chief enforcer. You just killed one of the biggest murderers in Capetown."

"So this Hassan was behind the attempted hit?" Tanner asked.

"Undoubtedly," Ashcroft replied. "And while losing Tamrez will hurt him, he has plenty of other men to call on, and his contacts inside the SAPS will expand his reach even more. I suggest that you lay low here a couple of days, then sneak out of South Africa."

"We can't," Tanner said. "We need to find out what Hassan knows, and do it quickly."

"But he's going to be looking for you."

"And we're going to be looking for him. Where does he live?"

Ashcroft pursed his lips. "He has an estate down the coast, on the southeast side of Hout Bay, right on the Atlantic Ocean, about twenty miles from here. I remember there was a big row about it with the environmentalists a couple of years back, because he wanted to build it on Table Mountain National Park land, but Hassan knew which wheels to grease and got the permits he needed to buy the land and built his estate. It has a dock and a ten foot wall around it."

"Doesn't sound like a smart thing for a criminal to do, raising all that publicity," Liam said.

"It does if it allows you to bring drugs directly from a ship to the beach," Dante said.

Tanner got out his phone. "I’ll call Casey, bring him up to date, and see if we can get any satellite shots of the estate."

Tanner dialed Casey's number. After a brief call, Tanner told them all that Casey came through and was emailing Danielle satellite images with map overlays of Hassan’s estate. Tanner asked Ashcroft if he had a color printer, and a few minutes later they were poring over the satellite imagery. For the next couple of hours, they planned the raid and made arrangements for equipment. After a time, Liam and Stephen left to get equipment from the Gulfstream and track down their pilot, Andy DeCasta.

"What exactly are you going to do?" Ashcroft asked. Up to this point he’d seemed relatively unconcerned, even amused at times. At the mention of equipment, however, the lines in his forehead creased with worry.

Tanner said matter-of-factly, "We're going to grab Hassan. Tonight."