Running Dark

33

EMMA WATCHED AS A BLACK FOUR-WHEEL-DRIVE VEHICLE OF AN indeterminate make drove out of the shrubbery lining the beach. It came toward them, its wheels churning through the sand. It pulled within five feet of the jeep and stopped. A white man swung out of it wearing khaki-colored cargo pants, a Guns N’ Roses T-shirt, and a pistol in a holder attached to his waistband.

“What’s up, Nick?” Hassim sounded concerned.

Nick glanced at Emma and back at Hassim without replying. He had shaggy black hair that was hacked off at his collar in a choppy fashion, as if someone had taken a knife to it rather than scissors. His skin was tanned a honey color.

Hassim grabbed the top of the windshield, hauled himself upright, and jumped over the door. “She’s okay. She works for Banner.”

Nick looked visibly relieved. He gave Emma a curt nod before directing his attention back to Hassim. “We’ve got a problem. Our contact, the one who promised us the boat, wants another two days. He claims he’s got something he needs to do.”

Hassim snorted. “You know what that means. He’s got a couple of hostages that he wants to transport first.”

“Yeah, but who? They haven’t taken a ship that I’m aware of.”

Hassim looked thoughtful. “Last kidnapping I heard about was a Turkish freighter.”

“That crew’s long gone. Their company paid up a month ago.”

“Where’s he now? Or, more important, where’s the boat?”

Nick waved back toward the beach behind him. “Anchored two miles down. I just saw it as I drove in.”

“Anyone on it?” Hassim reached into a small area directly behind the seats. Emma watched him as he fished around under a green tarp. He withdrew an assault rifle.

“Not that I saw.”

Hassim checked his weapon. “Then let’s go. I’ve already paid that guy. If I let him get away with taking the money and not delivering the boat, I’ll never be dealt with straight again.” He turned to Emma. “Do you want to come?”

She was up and over her door in a flash. “I don’t want to be left here, if that’s what you mean. Do you have a gun for me?”

Hassim stopped in midstride. “Didn’t I just give you one?”

“I mean a semiautomatic.”

Nick looked amused.

Hassim stood still. Then he shrugged in apparent resignation and headed back to the jeep. He extracted another AK-47 out from under the tarp and handed it across to Emma, over the jeep’s seats. She hefted it, feeling its weight. It appeared in fine working condition. Oiled, with a carrying strap that was relatively clean, it was set to automatic. Emma switched it to semiautomatic.

“Sure you want to do that?” Hassim asked.

You have no idea how sure, Emma thought. “I don’t want to autofire indiscriminately. I’m a terrible shot and likely to kill one or both of you in a bout of friendly fire. I’ve had a sum total of three lessons on how to use a gun.”

Hassim’s eyebrows hit his hairline. “In that case by all means.”

Nick laughed. “Glad that’s settled. Climb into the car. I’ll take you to the boat.”

They piled the rest of the duffels and chemistry equipment into the Land Rover. When they were finished, Nick hit the gas. The car dug in even further as a result of the added weight. Emma watched sprays of sand fly out from under the wheels, but the four-wheel drive managed to propel the vehicle forward. They drove for ten minutes before coming to a dirt road cut between the palms. It led away from the beach. Nick turned onto it. Here they moved quicker, although potholes filled the road. Emma held on to a handle above the door as they bounced along. The path turned to parallel the beach. After a few minutes, it became gravel, then curved back in the direction of the ocean. When it appeared as though they’d drive straight onto the sand again, Nick took a sharp left and killed the engine.

“The boat sits in a small cove up ahead. I think we should finish the trip on foot. We’ll need to move as quietly as possible.” Nick whispered the instructions before he carefully opened the driver’s door. Emma eased out of the car as well. She shut the door not by swinging it closed but by placing it against the side of the car and pressing it.

Nick went first, Hassim followed, and Emma brought up the rear. Her heart took on a crazy rhythm, and beads of sweat popped out on her forehead. She did all she could to walk softly. The only sounds she heard were the crashing of the waves on shore and the cry of seagulls, but these were so loud that she was concerned they’d miss the telltale step of a prowler behind them.

After five minutes of skulking through the trees, Emma could see the prow of a boat bobbing up and down. It was anchored ten feet from the sand’s edge. Nick waved them into cover. Hassim moved behind a tree. Emma followed his lead. Now she had a view of the entire vessel, and she was underwhelmed. It was a small cabin cruiser. So small, in fact, that she wouldn’t have been confident taking it out on a local lake, much less the ocean. From what she could see, there was a little cabin up front, and enough seating on each side of the open back to seat six, three on each side.

“That’s the boat we’re taking on the ocean?” Emma said.

Hassim turned his dark eyes on her. “It’s seaworthy. The Kaiser Franz was only about seventy-five miles out at its last known location, so we don’t have far to go.” He looked at Nick. “So we know the boat’s here. Where’s the owner?”

At that moment two men came out of the trees, assault rifles slung over their backs. They scanned the area before waving behind them. Three Somali women emerged. All three balanced large bundles on their heads. After them came two more men with guns. They carried a large crate. Once their feet hit the sand, they staggered with its weight. The entire entourage headed to the boat.

“They’re provisioning,” Nick said, “but I don’t see any hostages.”

Hassim shrugged. “Maybe they’re carrying arms to the mother ship. That box looks heavy enough. Whatever they’re doing, they’re not taking my boat. Let’s make a circle around and check out the road they used. I’ll bet Ali’s there.”

Nick gave Hassim an incredulous look. “You’re using Ali?”

Hassim nodded. “Why does that surprise you?”

“Ali always delivers. He’s the most reliable thief in Puntland. He’d never leave you high and dry if he could help it. Whatever’s up, he must really need that boat.”

Emma didn’t like the sound of that. The change of plans could very easily be born of desperation or coercion. Hassim, though, seemed unimpressed.

“I really need that boat. And this is the first time I’ve ever used Ali. Somalia isn’t my usual stomping ground. Perhaps this guy thinks he can mess with me.”

Nick shook his head back and forth. “No way. Ali may not know you personally, but everyone knows that you work for Banner and that Banner doesn’t allow anyone to mess with his people. If they did, there would be a small army of former Special Forces guys crawling up their ass within days.”

Hassim looked doubtful. “Banner doesn’t work this area much at all. Ali may not know his reputation.”

Nick snorted. “Ali knows, believe me.”

Hassim hitched his gun higher on his shoulder. “Whatever’s going on here is not my concern. I have a time-sensitive situation that requires my intervention. I need the boat, I paid for the boat, and I’m going to take the boat.”

Nick put up his palms in surrender. “Hey, I’m with you. Let’s go get the boat.”

Hassim moved out from behind the tree. Emma followed, and Nick brought up the rear. They jogged through the trees, following a jagged path from trunk to trunk. After a couple of minutes, they emerged at the beginning of the road. From the looks of it, Emma guessed that it was the road the Somalis had just used to deliver their provisions. Hassim hesitated behind another tree.

“They most likely have a Land Rover around here somewhere. It’s doubtful they carried that crate the entire way on foot. Let’s go down, farther away from the shore, and impound their car. If they want it back, they’d better bargain.”

Fifty feet along, they came upon a Range Rover parked dead center in the road. Emma was surprised to see that it was the latest model. Behind it sat an old white panel van. They watched both vehicles for a few minutes. Nothing happened.

Nick shifted. “No one’s here. How about I canvass the road on the back end, leading to the village?”

“I’ll head farther down the ocean side,” Hassim said. “When you’re done, come join me.” He turned to Emma. “You stay with the cars. It’s the safest place under the circumstances. They’re not likely to get past either Nick or me.”

Emma shouldered her gun. “I’ll check both vehicles. If there are any weapons on board, I’ll drag them here.” She watched both men head to their various destinations. Silence settled over the clearing. After a minute she slipped out from behind the tree and walked to the Range Rover. The door opened with a smooth swing. A gust of superheated air washed over her. The inside of the SUV was like an oven. Despite the temperature it still contained a new-car smell. The incongruity of such a beautiful vehicle in Somalia struck Emma as evil. Nothing good had bought this car. She scanned the backseat first, looking for evidence of weapons, peering into the cargo area. Sand was scattered on the carpeting, but on the whole the interior was clean. She lowered herself onto the front seat. The leather was so hot that she felt the warmth seep through her clothes. By now she was sweating freely. Rivulets of perspiration streamed down her sides.

She fished around the glove compartment, the ashtray, and the console. A canteen sat in the passenger’s foot well. Next to that was what appeared to be an aluminum water bottle. The driver must have tried to stash them out of the sunlight. A small burlap bag tied at the top with string sat on the console between the front seats. Emma opened it to find twiggy khat leaves, still fresh. They hadn’t started chewing yet, which was unfortunate, because they wouldn’t be impaired when they came upon Hassim and Nick. She gave another cursory look around and backed out of the Rover.

The sun struck her, though it was a bit cooler when compared to the SUV’s interior. She headed to the van, ignoring the front area and moving straight to the rear doors. If any weapons existed, they’d be there.

She reached for the handle and yanked her hand off it. The metal scorched her palm. She wrapped her fingers in the edge of her T-shirt and used it as a protective layer. She grasped the handle again and swung the door wide. Another blast of hot air hit her. She peered into the cargo area and gasped.

There, staring back at her, was Richard Stark.