‘One of my operators is on a bike right now.’
Maziq grew wide-eyed and nervous. ‘You’re sending him in? What’s his cover story? What’s he look like? Can he —’
‘Take it easy, Captain. He’s not doing anything. Just following the run. If we need him to pose as one of their couriers, we’ll be good to go.’
Maziq sighed deeply. ‘Please, Captain, let me do my job first before you make a move.’
‘I know the drill. I worked with a few of your buddies in Waziristan.’
‘You know Halitov and St Andrew?’ Maziq asked.
‘I know those guys well.’
Maziq grinned through a thought. ‘Damn, it’s been a long time since I’ve seen them.’
‘We went through a lot together. Bottom line is they trusted me, and so can you. I’m not here to steal your thunder.’
‘Good. Because I’m here to make sure you have yours, so give me some time. I’m working with all the three-letter agencies on signals intel, and that takes a while.’
‘Not Langley, though, right?’
He nodded. ‘The major was very specific about that, but they’ve got a man here. I’ve known about him for a while. We’ve IDed him as Tamer Abdel Kahlek. They just call him Tamer. I’d like to temporarily shut him down while we conduct our operations, if you understand me correctly.’
‘I do. Just get me the intel on him.’
‘It’s already being sent over. Now, if I’m correct, you have two more operators. Where are they?’
‘You getting nervous again?’
Maziq snorted. ‘I’m afraid of ghosts, especially the ones who like to shoot first and apologize later.’
Ross’s mouth fell open. ‘We’re, uh, just an ODA team …’
‘Okay, whatever you say.’
‘They told you who we are?’
‘I spoke to Mitchell myself. I used to be a Ghost, before you guys became the GST.’
‘Wow. He never said anything.’
‘It’s really not important.’
‘So if you don’t mind me asking, why’d you leave?’
‘The group was changing, there were politics involved, and I just needed something different,’ he said with a deep sigh.
‘Politics? In the military?’ Ross asked, beaming through his sarcasm.
Maziq grinned crookedly. ‘I was always good at this part of the job. Couple of guys I knew on ODA teams were recruited by the ISA and ran ops in the ’Stan, so I went for it. Haven’t looked back. And I’m happy to support your operations.’
‘We’re happy to have you. And I understand what you mean about needing something different. I really do.’
‘So about your other guys …’
Ross checked his watch. ‘If I’m right, they’re a few hours away from heat stroke, and they’re about to call and remind me.’
TWENTY-THREE
Kozak and 30K had established an observation post on the roof of an old British aircraft hangar at Tobruk Airport. They had donned NLA desert fatigues and were carrying the same weapons as those local troops: AK-47s and Russian TT-30 pistols. The hangar beneath them had been buffeted so severely by the wind and sand that most of its surfaces had been worn smooth, while a thick layer of sand had caked along its sides, allowing it to vanish into the landscape, as though it were some desert animal’s burrow rather than a World War II storage facility.
Tobruk Airport was one of many small, third-world airstrips Kozak had visited during his travels. The single main terminal was a meager rectangular box, and of course, if you took a commercial or business-class flight, you had to disembark via roll-up stairs and hike your butt across the tarmac to get out of the heat. Apparently, there had been plans for a big renovation and modernization of the airport before the civil war. Now it might take years before that project was put back on the table. The Libyans had more important things to consider first — such as rebuilding and reinforcing their government.
For his part and much to his satisfaction, Kozak was operating the drone crawler and had flown it over to the end of the runway, where several emergency vehicles were parked. The drone was parked atop the cab of a fire truck, and from there he watched close-up images of the incoming flights, while 30K checked them against the terminal data being sent from Fort Bragg. Analysts there had ‘accessed’ the terminal’s system and drawn the flight data because, wouldn’t you know, that data wasn’t available on the web, even though it should be public knowledge. Third-world airport to be sure.
‘Can’t we just leave the drone, have its signal sent to the web, and pick it up from there? This way we can go back to the church and cool off?’ asked 30K.
‘And if something goes down?’ Kozak challenged. ‘Our response time would be like what? Twenty minutes? Nah. We gotta be here. Come on, you know you love it. You just like to bitch and moan to pass the time.’
‘Yeah, well, even my sweat is sweating right now.’
A dark brown bird with a pale red neck wheeled overhead. Was it a vulture? Yes, it was, waiting for them to keel over.
‘We ain’t dead yet,’ 30K grunted while hoisting his middle finger at the vulture, giving the bird the bird as it were.
Kozak blinked sweat out of his own eyes. ‘Whew. Yeah, you’re right. It’s hot. Ten million sunblock ain’t enough. But if you can’t take the heat —’
‘Hey, remember how I said I’d find Admiral Nimitz’s baggage?’
‘His name’s Ross.’
‘Yeah, well, I found it.’
Kozak’s eyes never left the remote’s screen. ‘It’s his son.’
‘How do you know?’
‘Pepper found out. Just drop it.’
‘What happened?’
‘You told me you knew.’
‘Sounded like a bad divorce.’
Kozak shifted over and slapped a palm on 30K’s shoulder. ‘His little boy died. I don’t know how, but I’m asking you as a friend and a colleague to let this go.’
‘I’ll let it go if I’m sure his head’s clear.’
‘Are you serious? You think Mitchell would have given him a Ghost Team if he was a basket case? Come on, dude, get real. Ross is as squared away as they come. He’s just had bad times — like everyone here.’
‘I’m not so sure. Some guys hide it good. But then, when it all goes to hell, they lock up because they weren’t clear.’
‘It kinda went to hell back in Colombia, and as far as I’m concerned, the captain rocked it. Maybe I should be worried about you. Maybe you’re, like, OCD about Ross. Paranoid. Maybe you’re going to spend more time watching him instead of keeping your eyes on the primary target.’
30K spoke through his teeth. ‘We’re trusting that man with our lives. I want to know — I deserve to know — that his head is in the right place.’
‘I could say the same thing of you.’
The sound of plane engines drew Kozak’s attention skyward, and there it was, a medium transport with high-mounted wings, boxy fuselage, and a conventional tail. As the drone recorded its final approach, those images were automatically sent to one of the GST’s aircraft databases, which automatically scanned them until a match was found, the file displayed in Kozak’s HUD:
ID confirmed. CASA C-212 designed and built in Spain for civil and military use. Also manufactured under license by Indonesian Aerospace. Non-pressurized, low-flight-level. Turboprop used in a variety of utility and paramilitary roles due to low cost, large cabin, rear loading ramp.
‘I’ve seen those planes in Afghanistan,’ said Kozak. ‘I think Blackwater used them for dropping cargo.’
‘Yep, looks familiar to me, too. We might want to get down there and put a tracker on it.’
‘Why?’
‘’Cause it ain’t on the list. No flight plan filed. Just came in. Landed. Just like that. And you don’t see security rushing out to meet the plane, do you? Like they’ve all been paid off and know about it.’