Shadow Tyrants

FORTY-SEVEN

Andreas Ladas drove the truck carrying Xavier Carlton’s cars like his life depended on it. He’d heard about some kind of situation at the dock in the early hours of the morning and he’d been terrified that the billionaire had discovered some kind of damage done during the transportation process. Luckily, it turned out to be something else, but nobody would tell him what had happened.

Both he and Georgios, who was sitting in the passenger seat, had moved cars for Carlton before and knew how demanding he was. If there was even a hint that they’d caused a scratch, they’d both lose their jobs.

Despite his fears, Andreas hoped they wouldn’t have any problems this early in the morning. The traffic was light on the divided A5 highway, and they were making good time.

About halfway to the airport, though, they ran into a section with red and white markers diverting the vehicles down to one lane for repaving work. Cars weren’t backed up very far, but it would take a little longer to get through this stretch. Andreas knew Carlton’s assistant, Natalie Taylor, would be impatiently waiting for them at the airport if they didn’t get there on time. He’d seen a helicopter land on the ship to pick her up at the same time as they were driving away from the dock.

Andreas began merging the truck over when a tiny Fiat behind him raced forward, trying to sneak between him and the concrete median.

The car almost made it, but the rear end clipped the front bumper of the truck as it passed. The car spun out in a haze of tire smoke and came to rest against the median backward, blocking the way. Andreas brought the truck to an abrupt stop.

Tires squealed behind him as a van screeched to a halt sideways about ten feet behind the trailer.

A beautiful dark-haired woman leaped out of the Fiat and began cursing in Arabic as she examined the damage to her car. It didn’t seem extensive, just cosmetic, but she was furious.

“I’ll handle her,” Andreas said to Georgios. “You check on the cars. As long as they’re okay, we don’t mention this to Ms. Taylor, understand?”

Georgios nodded and got out.

Andreas climbed down and looked at the front of the truck, which looked undamaged. He approached the woman, who was yelling at him before he even got to her.

“I don’t understand what you’re saying,” he said in his native Greek.

“You speak English?” she asked, her eyes blazing.

“A little,” he said.

“Who pays for this?” she shouted, pointing at the scraped fender and crumpled bumper. “Is rental!”

He offered to give her his insurance information, but she started shouting again in Arabic, ignoring the angry honking of horns from cars backed up by the incident. Andreas looked at his watch, impatiently trying to figure out how he could get going as soon as possible.

MacD waited in the driver’s seat of the van until the truck driver’s companion rounded the end of the trailer and unlocked the door to check the vehicles. When he raised it, MacD jumped out and yelled, “Hey, man, you have a problem with your tire!”

The trucker turned and looked at MacD in confusion.

“What tire? What you mean?”

“On the right side,” MacD said. “Ah saw it when you passed me earlier. This way. Let me show you.”

“Where?”

MacD led him around to the side of the truck, out of sight of the van.

As soon as MacD and the trucker were no longer in view, Juan silently slid open the van’s side door, and he and Tiny sprinted to the trailer, hidden from the eyes of drivers behind them by the angled van.

They jumped into the back of the truck. Juan was ready to pick the lock on the Cadillac’s trunk, but it was unlocked and opened right up. They tossed their equipment bags in the cavernous space and got in. Using a magnetic handhold, Juan pulled the trunk lid closed over them.

“You were right,” Tiny said, practically sprawling across the immense interior. “Lot of room.”

Juan smiled and activated his comm unit, saying to MacD, “We’re in.”

MacD was crouching by one of the trailer’s frontmost tires when he got the word from Juan.

“Sorry, dude,” he said to the guy he’d learned was Georgios. “I thought the tire was flat, but it looks okay.”

Georgios said, “It’s okay. Thank you.”

They walked back to the rear of the truck, and Georgios climbed in while MacD got back in the van. He watched as Georgios inspected the cars’ exteriors and their tie-downs to make sure they hadn’t shifted during the quick stop.

He never even put his hands on the Caddy’s trunk.

Georgios got out and pulled the door down, locking it up again. He went around the truck, saw the driver still arguing with the woman, and yelled something in Greek, waving his hands like they should get going.

“We’re good to go, Raven,” MacD said, and started the van.

As soon as she heard that from MacD, Raven stopped yelling at the truck driver. She instantly changed her tone from anger to remorse, as if she suddenly understood that the accident was her fault, not his.

“You not see me?” she said in broken English.

“No, you drive up fast next to me,” Andreas said. “I don’t see you.”

“Oh, I sorry. Please, no call police.” She made tears well up in her eyes.

He tilted his head back in the Greek gesture for no.

“Is okay,” he said with a grin, and patted her shoulder. “Don’t worry. We go now.”

She thanked him profusely and got back into the rental Fiat. That was about the only thing she hadn’t lied about.

She wheeled the car around and got going again, the truck following behind.

“I’ll meet you at the airport,” she said into her mic.

“Roger that,” MacD replied.

Neither of them mentioned that the most dangerous part of the plan was yet to come, and it was completely out of their hands. All they could do was hope that Taylor didn’t notice the Cadillac was riding a bit lower with the added weight and decide to open its trunk to investigate why.