The Sanctuary

Chapter 56

The sun-drenched landscape between the airport and the elevated city was barren and desolate. Mia and Kirkwood’s driver had to stop several times as villagers in tattered clothing meandered across the road with herds of sheep and goats, the languid processions escorted by squadrons of flies and trailing an acrid stench.

The Land Cruiser eventually reached the concrete bridge and headed up to the city. The buildings lining the approach were a haphazard, unruly mix of old and new, cheaply built, many further defaced by half-torn election posters and the garish signage of the shops that occupied the street level. The road was crowded with pickup trucks and overloaded sedans carrying everything from watermelons to refrigerators.

The driver threaded his way through the congested obstacle course. Neither he, nor his passengers, noticed the two dusty SUVs that were parked along their route, shielded by a large tanker truck that was unloading water.

As the Land Cruiser glided past Corben’s SUV, something about it snagged his attention. It was reasonably clean, it was in good condition, and though he couldn’t make out much behind its smoked windows, he’d caught a glimpse of the man in the front passenger seat as the car had been heading towards them, a fair-skinned man with sandy-colored hair wearing black shades.

That had to be the target. Hardly any cars had driven in from the direction of the airport, and this guy wasn’t local.

“There.” He pointed it out to Omar. “That’s our buyer. Follow him.”

Omar ordered the driver to do so. The two SUVs pulled out and slithered forward, keeping two or three cars between them and the Land Cruiser.

Corben’s muscles tightened with anticipation. He wasn’t sure it was the buyer’s vehicle, but he sensed he’d gotten it right. Regardless, he’d soon get a lock from Olshansky on the buyer’s final destination.

He glanced over at Omar. The hakeem’s man gave him a small nod before his lifeless eyes swiveled back to take in their quarry.

The Land Cruiser tunneled through a vast stone gate and entered the old city. The houses here were much older, lower, and were built of distinctive alternating bands of white stone and reddish black basalt. Mosques abounded, their minarets spearing the dense townscape. The uneven, cracked sidewalks were crowded with men, most of them in the traditional baggy black trousers, and women in white headscarves. Narrow, dark streets radiated away from the main road, sheltering children who played in the shade.

The two SUVs shadowed the Land Cruiser from a safe distance. They stopped around the corner of a big market as their target pulled up outside a house adjacent to it.

Two men waited outside. One was an Arab, the other a Westerner. Both looked as if they were packing. Omar asked the driver where they were. The driver explained that this was the Hassan Pasha Ham, an old caravanserai that now housed souvenir shops and carpet merchants.

Corben wasn’t listening. His eyes were locked on the Land Cruiser as its doors swung open.

The fair-haired man emerged first, scanning the surroundings with practiced eyes. The shades and the holster bulge under his khaki desert jacket told Corben the man was a hired gun. He exchanged a couple of words with the Westerner waiting outside the house as the Land Cruiser’s rear doors opened.

Corben spotted Mia step out first. And if that wasn’t enough, the sight of Kirkwood following her tripped the remaining circuits in his brain into overdrive.

He’d been expecting to see Webster. His mind rushed to process the development. Clearly, Webster and Kirkwood were working together. Which explained a lot about Kirkwood’s appearance in Beirut, and his interest.

He glanced at Omar, who’d also seen her, but didn’t know Kirkwood. Corben just nodded and kept his satisfaction cloaked.

Perfect.