OUTCAST Ops: African Firestorm

CHAPTER FIVE

Berg Van Gelder and Carel Hoek had been NFFA members for several years. Both were uneducated, and prone to violence against non-whites or whites who didn't believe in white superiority. Both had served time in prison, though only for a fraction of the crimes they had actually committed.

Van Gelder was the taller of the two, forty pounds overweight, with a buzz-cut and a face that was best characterized as "piggish" (though no one would say so within his earshot.) Hoek was thin, with close-cut blond hair, and slightly less ugly than Van Gelder.

They were more than halfway through their "security sweep," which entailed nothing more than walking around the warehouse's interior perimeter, and checking to make sure all the exit doors were locked. Flashlights lit their way, because Die Baas — Aswegen — was a cheap bastard, preferring to save on his electrical bill by not lighting the warehouse unless there was cargo coming in or out.

"I wonder what has Die Baas so worried," Hoek muttered. "Does he think those kaffir Somalis are going to come down here and take this warehouse?"

"I don't know," Van Gelder growled. "But he's paying us to make sure no one breaks in here and steals anything."

"I don't like this, Berg.”

"You don't have to like it. You just have to do it."

For a couple of minutes, the only sounds were their footsteps. They reached the northeast corner, but as they turned, they heard a small ringing, like a coin falling onto the concrete floor ahead of them. "What the hell?" Hoek muttered.

They moved forward slowly, flashlights probing the ground ahead. After a few seconds, the beams picked up something glittering on the floor. They stepped close and Van Gelder bent down and picked it up. He stared at it in the beam of light.

"It's a Krugerrand!" he said, flipping the gold coin over.

"How in the hell did it get here?" Hoek asked.

"I don't know. I—"

Neither man saw their killers come out of the darkness. A figure in black came up from behind each man, placed a hand across their mouths, jerked their heads straight up to expose the neck, and cut each man's throat with a knife before driving the blade into each man's kidney. The dying men struggled, blood gushing from their deep wounds. Their killers dropped them to the floor and watched them die without saying a word.

Yasir Ilshu stepped out of the darkness and nodded to his men. He reached down, picked up the Krugerrand, and put it into his pocket.

Without a word, the ICA group moved past the dead guards, their blood glistening in the flashlight's illumination.

The 4X4 was already traveling at thirty miles an hour by the time it hit the intersection. By the time it shot past the guardhouse, it was doing forty. Both Dante and Naomi had their pistols, H&K SOCOMs, out and ready. Tanner jammed the shifter into second gear as he turned the wheel. The vehicle began skidding, the rear of the car whipping around in a bootlegger's turn. The vehicle came to a stop ten feet away from the truck.

"White to Black," Tanner said into his radio. "We have a Condition Omega here!"

"Do we withdraw?" Liam asked.

"No, find a way to get to that computer! We can handle it here!"

All three came out of the Pajero with pistols raised. Two figures in black came charging out of the building, their AK-47s raised to fire, but the OUTCAST operators were quicker, firing several times before either assailant could shoot. Both thugs went down as several .45 slugs slammed into them.

"Expect trouble, Black," Tanner continued. "I don't think this is a random attack."

"Copy," Liam returned. "We'll figure out a way."

Dante quickly checked the truck's cab, while Tanner scoped out the back of the truck and found nothing. Naomi knelt next to the downed guard and checked for a pulse. After several seconds, she shook her head. "He's gone."

A sudden barrage of multiple sustained bursts of gunfire sent them running into the building. They stopped only long enough to make sure both gunmen were dead, kicking their rifles away from the bodies. Tanner hissed, "Stairs," motioning to a staircase in one corner of the lobby.

The trio ran for the stairs and started up.

Nadim Mahdi watched the SUV shoot across the road and speed into the office park. He scowled, then tapped his driver on the shoulder. "Get closer, but don't let them see you."

There were three men in the car, a BMW 328i that had been stolen that afternoon. All three were ICA veterans, sent by Ilshu to observe the attack and follow up if the new recruits failed. It looked like there was a new player involved.

The dark blue car rolled up the driveway just as three figures ran into the building. The car that had just driven in was facing them, its headlights still on. Mahdi thought for a few seconds, then said, "Go in."

The BMW rolled to a stop near the front of the building. All three exited the car. "Follow them in, or wait here?" Faisal, Mahdi's driver, asked.

The sound of an engine starting up somewhere above them interrupted Madhi's thoughts. He frowned for a second, then smiled.

"We go to the roof. Tell the fighters to kill the newcomers."