OUTCAST Ops: African Firestorm

CHAPTER THIRTY

"Who are you?" Stephen demanded in Yemeni-accented Arabic.

The two soldiers flanking the officer raised their AK-47s and pointed them at Stephen.

"I," the officer said coolly, "asked first."

Stephen eyed the officer, who was thin with a neat dark beard, a narrow face with angular features, and dark, alert eyes. Something told Stephen that he was looking at Riyad, the ICA leader.

"I am Ali Abdullah Jarallah," Stephen said.

"You are Yemeni," the officer said.

"Yes, I was born near Dhamer."

"Why are you here?"

"I work for the khat dealer, Axiam Osman. He is back there, negotiating with a client. I thought I would walk around and see the ocean. Now, who are you?"

"You are arrogant," Riyad said. "Who I am is not your concern."

"Are you here to sell khat?"

Riyad gave Stephen a withering glare. "I do not care for the substance.”

Stephen continued on as if he hadn't heard him. "Because I need some khat of my own," he said, sounding a little whiney. "Osman doesn't like giving his employees any, and I haven't chewed any in two days. I need some."

Riyad's face darkened in anger and disgust. "I am not here to sell drugs!"

"You're not?"

The sound of a car horn cut through the desert afternoon and Madar, sitting behind the jeep's steering wheel, pulled up next to them. He hopped out of the car and stood with his hands on his hips, glaring at Stephen.

"What are you doing here, you idiot?" the Somali yelled in accented Arabic.

"I—" Stephen began to say, only to be slapped by Madar.

"Enough!" the smaller man shouted. "I told my cousin you were an idiot, and this proves it!"

"But—"

Madar slapped him again. "An idiot!" He turned and bowed to Riyad. "Profuse apologies, sir. Did this man bother you?"

Riyad looked down on Madar. "Who are you?"

"I am Madar Osman, Axiam's cousin. My cousin has been forced to hire idiots like this one to protect his business interests. Now I am stuck with keeping these dimwits in line while my cousin brokers a deal with important clients."

He turned back toward Stephen and pointed at the jeep. "Get in! If you are lucky, my cousin will only fire you!"

Stephen got into the jeep's front passenger seat. Madar got behind the steering wheel and looked at Riyad. "Again, profuse apologies, sir. This fool will be lucky he still has a job by the end of the day."

Riyad's expression was hard to read. After a few seconds, he flicked his hand in a dismissive gesture. "Get out of here. If I see him again, I will kill him."

Madar started the jeep's engine, and after making a sloppy three-point turn, headed back the way Stephen and he had come from.

"Don't look back!" Madar yelled as they drove up to the red-roofed building.

"Everything all right?" Liam asked over the radio. Stephen could see him standing on the building's second floor balcony.

"Had a run-in with Riyad," Stephen said.

"I saw. Got some good pictures of him, too. Stick with the jeep, because I think Axiam is just about finished here."

"I should thank you," Stephen said to Madar.

The Somalian snorted. "I no like Americans," he said in heavily accented English. "Both parents dead in Mogadishu during American occupation. But I no like Arabs more."

"Looks like the meeting is over," Liam said. "We're on our way down."

Three hours later, Tanner looked up from the map and the pictures. "We have a problem."

"Putting it mildly," Liam agreed.

The team met in the barracks, clustered around a heavy wooden table. The tabletop was covered with a satellite map of Eyl and surrounding areas, along with photos printed from a portable printer out of Danielle's equipment bag. The remains of the midday meal — pasta in a thick stew and bananas — lined the edges of the table, its smell lingering in the air.

The team quickly realized any plan that involved infiltrating the beach and stealing a skiff was not going to work. "There are always guards on the beach," Stephen pointed out. "My source says they're mostly Yabaal's men, and at least a dozen patrol the beach, even at night."

"And even if we could get to the beach, undetected," Dante said, “there's still the matter of getting the boat out into the ocean and crossing half a mile of water to reach those ships. We don't know how many pirates they have on those ships."

"There's been no sign of any prisoners taken off those ships," Liam said, "so assuming any crew are still alive, they must still be aboard."

They bounced ideas back and forth, but there were too many unknowns to arrive at a definitive course of action.

Then Axiam entered the room. "How's the planning going?"

"It isn't," Tanner replied. "Too many unknown factors."

"I've got more data to throw into your pot of problems. For one, the Northstar Venture is leaving tonight, after dark."

"Shit," Dante muttered.

"Any idea when?" Tanner asked.

"No, but I'm guessing about midnight. That's when there's a window when there are no observation satellites overhead."

"What else do you have?"

"If it wasn’t for bad news I wouldn’t have any news at all. That other ship anchored out there — it isn't a captured cargo ship being ransomed. It belongs to the Arabs."

"You sure?" Naomi asked.

"More than one of my contacts has seen sailors from that second ship come ashore and go about their business without guards, armed with pistols. There's also no friction between them and the Arab soldiers on-shore."

"Do you have the ship's name?" Tanner asked. He tapped a finger on one of the ship's photos. "They've covered the names with canvas."

Axiam nodded. "The name 'Saad el Melik' has been bandied about for that cargo vessel. Whether or not that's the ship's real name is another matter."

"We'll worry about that ship later," Tanner said.

"I have more bad news." Axiam's expression was bleak. "The Northstar's crew is dead."

"Dead?" Dante asked. "Are you sure?"

The Somali agent nodded. "Talked to a few of my sources. Word has gone around Eyl that the Arabs executed them. They used Yabaal's men to move the bodies into a refrigerated container on the Northstar, and they weren't happy about it. There's no crew to rescue."

"None of that helps with our current problem," Liam said. "We can't get out to Northstar Venture by boat, and unless we can fly we—" He stopped as a grin materialized on his features.

"Wait a minute…Maybe we can fly…"