Dangerous Alliance, page 15
Busuri waved him off. “Go.”
***
After George’s speech, the abysmal attitude of the volunteers improved. Before long, spontaneous laughter covered the normal nocturnal noises. Conversation erupted, and the group returned to its pre-attack positive interactions.
Alf walked over to George. “You handled things well. You’re a natural at helping others.”
“Thanks. It’s something Granny taught me.”
“I wish I had a granny like yours.”
“She’s not always easy to deal with, but she’s always right.” George yawned, stretching his arms in the air. “Think I’ll call it an evening.”
Alf nodded. “Sounds like a plan.”
George and Alf left the few remaining people at the campfire and headed back to the tent they shared. Lights were extinguished throughout the camp as others also retired.
***
Looshan slid down the embankment into the wadi, searching for his leader. “Busuri, we know which tent the tall man is using. Another man is with him.”
“Excellent. We’ll wait for the camp to fall asleep before our attack. Tell the others to prepare. We’ll break into three groups—you’ll be with me.”
“At once, Busuri.”
Minutes stretched into hours as Busuri bided his time. Two or three hostages would be perfect. I’ll show Tahliil I’m as successful as Dacar.
Busuri gazed at the heavens, thousands of stars twinkling. He found his omen—the narrowest sliver of moonlight, shaped like a billaawe, the Somali double-edged dagger. Perfect tool for this evening.
He nudged Looshan, who did the same to the man next to him until they all stood, circling Busuri.
“We attack now. Looshan and two others will follow me.” Busuri divided the remaining men into two groups. “Each team will hit one tent, grab whoever is there, and depart. Be fast but quiet—don’t wake anyone else. They will panic when they find empty tents.”
The men grinned as they climbed to the top of the wadi and crawled through the brush and grass toward their prey. Silent, they slithered into the camp, until they reached their targets.
Two men pulled the tent flaps open, allowing Busuri and Looshan to enter. Knives drawn, they rushed to the sleeping foreigners.
George stirred, eyes opening when the hilt of a dagger clipped the side of his head. “What? Who’s there?”
A hand covered George’s mouth as a dagger traced a line down his chin to his throat.
“Sshhh. Make a sound—you die.”
George froze until hands grabbed and pulled him out of his bed. He lashed out, landing a right hook to Looshan’s jaw.
Busuri swung his knife. Before he connected, George dropped to the floor.
One of Busuri’s men stood over George’s body grinning, a wooden club in his hand.
“Grab him and let’s go.”
Looshan and the other man subdued Alf before he woke. The four men left the tent, pulling their captives. Except for an occasional rustle of clothing and soft grunts from dragging their captives, the camp remained quiet.
Back at the wadi, Busuri’s team assembled. With them, George, Alf, and a foreign woman with long, dark hair.
“Well done. We have our prizes. Let’s head home.”
***
Several hours later, a phone rang twice before someone answered. “This is the British Embassy in Nairobi. How may I direct your call?”
“Hello, I’m Ian Jones, the Jujubba Refugee Camp coordinator near Malindi. We need help. Prince George has been kidnapped!”
Chapter Twenty-One
Aboard The Ventrusco
Port Said
Trevor shook Rooble’s hand. Is he part of the Somali pirate gang? I need to watch out for him.
“I’ll leave you two to become acquainted.” Luigi headed to the food line as Trevor and Rooble followed.
Once Trevor and his new partner had filled their plates, they joined Gerhard and the others. Introductions made, the men dug into their meal.
“Ag, man, you’re not eating any meat. You need to eat proper food.” Gerhard flexed a massive bicep. “See this? Comes from the right food and plenty of weightlifting.”
“Where I grew up, meat was a rarity. I get my protein from an egg a day. We lived near the ocean, so we also ate a lot of fish.” Rooble spooned eggs into his mouth and chewed before frowning. “Like rubber.”
“Today’s are worse than normal.” Trevor pushed his plate back and stood. “Rooble, if you’re finished, I’ll show you the duties Luigi gave us.”
***
After Trevor and Rooble had departed, Fergus shook his head. “I don’t like Trevor’s new partner. There’s something about him—I’m not sure what, but he bears watching.”
“I caught Trevor’s nod toward the guy when he stood.” Nate drained the last of his coffee. “Our duties don’t begin for an hour, so let’s tour the ship, and keep an eye on him.”
Pun jabbed Gerhard in the stomach before jumping back and standing. “You eat too much. Work now.”
***
Trevor and Rooble made their way to the refrigerated hold. As they checked the connections on the cooling pipes, Trevor pointed to an open space.
“This is where Marco received his injuries yesterday. We must use caution when we remove any connections.”
“Okay. What’s next?”
“After we finish examining the joints here, we’ll move to the next hold and do the same. Luigi said several refrigerated containers will be removed this afternoon.” Let’s hope there aren’t any more accidents.
The day sped by as they continued with their tasks, Trevor showing Rooble the procedures he had learned from Marco.
In the mess for a quick lunch, Luigi approached their table. “Here are the four containers to be unloaded this afternoon.” He handed a bill of lading to Trevor.
“Should Rooble and I handle these alone or will someone else help?”
“Since this is the last of the containers to be removed today, Fergus and Nate will help you. Your shift will be finished once they’re transferred. Enjoy the rest of the day and evening in Port Said—we transit the Suez Canal tomorrow.”
“What time should we be back on board?”
“By seven a.m. We depart an hour later.”
***
After the chilled containers were removed from the hold, the work teams left the ship to spend some time roaming through Port Said before their departure.
Rooble turned to the others. “I’m meeting a friend later, so I’m going to change. What are you doing this evening?”
“I’ll have a quiet dinner and an early night.” Trevor glanced at the others. “Don’t forget to be back on the ship by seven a.m., or we might leave you behind.”
“Ha ha. Wouldn’t be the first time a ship sailed without me. Enjoy the evening.”
“Anyone up for a stroll through the city before dinner?” Nate nudged Fergus.
“I tink a brisk walk to stretch my legs is what I need.”
Nate whispered to Trevor. “We’ll give Rooble a chance to go ahead before following. By the way, this afternoon he slid a wrench into his belt while you worked with him. It makes me wonder if he’s the mystery man who clobbered Marco.”
“I thought the same thing.” Trevor rubbed his chin with his thumb and index finger. “Might be a good idea to figure out what he’s up to.”
“Pun and I are staying in a room next to his. If the door is open, we’ll check his belongings.” Gerhard shrugged. “If it’s locked, I’m sure Pun will find a way inside.”
“Everyone be careful. Why don’t we meet for dinner at the El Borg around eight p.m.” Trevor yawned. “I’ll take a snooze, check for updates, and meet everyone later.”
When Trevor arrived at the Port Said Pensione, where the ship’s crew stayed while in the city, he climbed the rickety external stairs to the third floor. His room was to the right as he entered.
Trevor checked the thin piece of filament he had stretched across the bottom of the doorframe when he left in the morning. Still in place.
He booted his laptop and sent a short email.
To: Topaz
From: Black
Injured Italian partner unable to return to work. Replaced by a Somali named Rooble, who is under our surveillance. Ship scheduled to depart Port Said tomorrow morning.
After sending the message, Trevor took a shower, changed, and headed to the restaurant. Something about Rooble is off-kilter. Wonder what my team will learn?
An hour later, the team straggled in, joining Trevor at a circular wooden table on the waterfront terrace. Various ship names were carved in the top, an informal record of those passing time in the city.
An attentive waiter took their seafood orders and scurried away. Nate leaned forward to speak over the cacophony of shouts, whistles, singing, and clapping.
“Rooble met three men at a dingy restaurant about four blocks away.” Nate scanned the immediate area, ensuring no one paid attention to them. “Couldn’t hear what they said, but they appeared to know one another. After a waiter brought them food, we headed here.”
“Pun and I gained access to his room.” Gerhard smiled as he nudged Pun. “Our little friend here opened the door in under ten seconds. We searched the room, and he made an excellent discovery.”
“He bad man.” Pun shook a finger in the air. “I find knife, garrote, and satellite phone in plastic bag in toilet.”
Gerhard took over. “I checked the phone. One number in the memory, with calls to and from.” He slid a slip of paper over. “Here’s the number.”
“Excellent work, guys. I’ll forward this information tonight. Gerhard and Pun, after you eat, pick up Rooble’s trail and find out what you can.”
Pun jumped to his feet. “We go now. Eat later.”
“Ag, man. Let me grab something—I’m starved.” Gerhard grabbed a couple of rolls from a covered basket, downed his Coke, and followed Pun out of the restaurant.
After a meal comprised of a seafood combo, pasta, and soft drinks, Trevor, Nate, and Fergus returned to the pensione. Trevor provided an update.
To: Topaz
From: Black
Additional information regarding the Somali named Rooble. Team infiltrated his room, locating a knife, garrote, and Sat phone with single number. Met with three men, believed to be Somali. Identify number and advise.
***
Pun and Gerhard followed Nate’s directions to the restaurant where he and Fergus left Rooble. A ramshackle building, wooden shutters clung to either side of small windows. Grease stains streaked the glass, but the aroma of cooking meats and vegetables drew a steady if somewhat seedy clientele.
When they arrived, Rooble was leaning against the counter near a cash register. He dropped a few bills on his check and headed out the door. Alone, he wandered toward Pun and Gerhard.
Pulling back into the shadows, they ducked behind an overflowing dumpster. Putrid odors seeped from the refuse, several cats screeched and yowled as they fought over delectable morsels. After giving Rooble time to pass, they eased forward to the street, Pun swiping at something clinging to his right shoulder.
Rooble sauntered along the narrow streets, lined with still-open shops, merchants hawking their wares: food, clothing, and perfume. The scent of a marijuana cigarette floated in the air, bringing him to a halt.
He glanced over his shoulder before crossing the street. Laughter erupted from a group of teens shoving one another as they raced around several public benches and street lamps.
Gerhard tapped Pun on the shoulder. He pointed ahead for Pun to remain on this side of the street while he used a slow-moving car as a shield. He ducked while he crossed over, staying well behind their target.
Rooble maintained his stroll, paying little apparent attention to his surroundings. At the entrance to a narrow alley, he glanced to his right and stepped over some trash piled by an overflowing bin.
Gerhard remained behind two couples walking arm-in-arm. They stopped at an open doorway and headed into an apartment building. Gerhard passed them and approached the alley. As he crossed the broken pavement, his senses kicked in.
Too late—an arm shot out of the darkness, a knife swiped across Gerhard’s right shoulder before he responded. Blood streaming from the wound, he grabbed the knife hand as a tall, thin man stepped forward, attempting to impale him.
With a twist of the man’s hand, he shoved the assailant against the corner of the building, snapping the radius bone near the wrist.
His attacker screamed. The knife clattered on the ground. He ran away as a second man swung a long pipe at Gerhard's head.
Falling to the ground, Gerhard used a cross block, taking control of the pipe. He smashed the man's right knee, hit him in the kidney, the liver, stepped around, punched him in the other kidney and then hit him in the temple.
By the time Gerhard dispatched both assailants, Pun had raced across the street. A third man, dressed in black from head to toe, aimed a pistol at Gerhard’s back.
Pun pulled his kukri and released it with the accuracy he’d acquired from past experience. A dull thud, followed by a banshee wail from the attacker, demonstrated Pun’s aim. The assassin fell against the side of the building, unmoving. Retrieving the kukri, Pun searched the area for further danger.
Satisfied the danger had passed, Pun helped an unsteady Gerhard back to his feet. “We go ship. Visit doctor.”
Gerhard nodded, the blood loss making him dizzy. “Lead the way, Pun. Call Trevor and tell him.”
After Pun had spoken with Trevor, he placed an arm around the back of his friend, and they staggered toward the port. They moved in the shadows as much as possible to avoid any awkward questions.
Back at the ship, Trevor waited by the gangway. He rushed forward as Pun and Gerhard approached. “The doctor’s waiting for you.” What next? Attacks are escalating.
Trevor and Pun assisted Gerhard up the gangway. They entered sick bay, where the doctor, a bald and stooped man, waited. He helped Gerhard remove his shirt before he staunched the bleeding. “Tsk, tsk.” The doctor shook his head. “We’ll fix you.”
“Ag, man. No needles. I hate needles.”
“You require stitches, young man. Let this be a lesson—no fighting.” He cleaned the wound. “Hmmm. I think you’ll need a tetanus shot, too.”
Gerhard rolled his eyes and grimaced but remained quiet while the doctor closed the wound with nine stitches.
“Ow! You stabbed me.”
The room filled with laughter after Gerhard received his tetanus injection.
Luigi, with apparent concern etched upon his face, appeared next to Trevor. “What happened?”
“Nothing to worry about. Pun and Gerhard went out for an evening stroll, when a gang attacked them. They defended themselves, but Gerhard received a small cut on his shoulder.”
Luigi nodded. “Perhaps a good idea to return to the ship early for safety.”
“I agree. After the doc takes care of Gerhard, we’ll collect our things from the pensione and come back.”
***
Their meager belongings retrieved, the team returned to the ship. They sat in the mess, a pot of strong, black coffee on the table. Trevor poured the steaming drink for those who wanted it. He sipped the brew before adding sugar.
“Right. Events appear to be escalating around us. Will be interesting to find out if Rooble returns to the ship before we sail. If he does, I want Nate and Fergus to continue monitoring his activities.”
The two men nodded.
“What Gerhard and I do?”
“Pun, you’ll continue your duties and stay away from Rooble—for now. Unless advised otherwise, we’ll continue our mission. Questions?”
Fergus raised a hand. “If Rooble returns and does something suspicious, should we capture him?”
“Yes. We’ll worry about fallout from Luigi later. If nothing else, let’s call it a night.”
Trevor returned to his cabin and booted his laptop. A message waited for him.
To: Black
From: Topaz
Sat number associated with al-Shabaab leader Tahliil. Continue to monitor Rooble’s activities and apprehend if necessary. Acknowledge.
Trevor nodded as he read and composed a response.
To: Topaz
From: Black
Instructions acknowledged.
This evening Green was attacked by three men, believed to be those seen with Rooble. Minor cut, stitched by ship’s doctor. One attacker escaped, another rendered unconscious, final man terminated. No identity papers. Believed to be Somalis.
***
The Ventrusco departed from Port Said as scheduled. The ship followed others into the blue-green water as intense sunlight beat down upon the travelers. The canal’s banks contrasted with the water: sand, swatches of green, and scattered signs of civilization.
Luigi approached Trevor. “The transit takes about fifteen hours. Every five hours check the refrigerator connectors. The rest of the time, enjoy the sights. We are making an unscheduled stop in Port Safaga. The owners want several containers picked up and dropped in Mombasa.”
“Okay, Luigi. I haven’t seen Rooble since we departed. Did he return to the ship?”
“No. Not sure why. Have your friends assist with the connector checks.”
“Right.” Wonder what happened to Rooble.
The remainder of the day passed without incident. Before docking in Port Safaga, Trevor checked his email.
To: Black
From: Topaz
Team to disembark from ship upon arrival in Port Safaga. Situation is evolving but primary mission may become secondary due to the abduction of Prince George.
Further information will be provided forthwith. Prepare for team split into two groups and if possible, continue with both missions.
Ship’s owner informed. Replacement crew is waiting in Port Safaga.
Trevor acknowledged the latest communiqué and gathered his team to explain the kidnapping of Prince George. “We’ll leave the ship in Port Safaga. We’re splitting up. Pun and Gerhard will head to Somalia to track Prince George’s kidnappers. Nate, Fergus, and I will proceed to Mombasa, where we’ll wait for further instructions.”
