“The white vans the traffickers use,” Nielson said, nodding. “Plenty of room and…”
“The Keldara girls that are handling intel and commo will just look like more whores on their way west,” Mike said, nodding. “With the shooters as their guards. We got us a plan?”
“Well,” Nielson said with a sniff. “It’s a start.”
Chapter Nine
Mike considered the border crossing as the six vans approached it. It had just flat taken six vans for all the team and their gear.
Set up of the operation had only taken three days. Vanner had many of the items they were going to need on hand and the few that he didn’t were more available in the Ukraine than in Georgia. The route had taken them through the Ukraine, and a brief stop at Dnipropetrovsk filled in the gaps. Weapons were easy; the Keldara were very well armed.
However, travelling to Moldava had taken some time. The roads in Georgia and the Ukraine, ranged from bad to just awful. And given that the vans were packed with foreign nationals using fake passports and enough weapons for a small coup, discreet travel was the byword. They’d mostly stayed off the major roads, which meant not only circuitous travel but staying mostly on the “just awful” roads.
By the end of the week’s trek, Mike felt as if his kidneys had been shaken out through his sinuses.
However, they’d made it to the Moldavan border. The problem then was that the out-of-the-way border crossing near Ribnita, which according to reports was unguarded, had a couple of Moldavan soldiers running a checkpoint.
“Be of good cheer and tip heavily,” Mike said. The headset dangling from his ear was a bit out of the ordinary for white slavers but it wasn’t entirely out of character. “Hand me your passports,” he continued, looking to the rear of the vehicle.
The seats right behind the driver’s were filled by three Keldara in work clothes and jeans. Their heavy-cotton button-down shirts were untucked so the pistols at their waist were concealed. Poorly in a couple of cases, but concealed. The rest of their gear was packed in the cargo area of the van, stuffed into several discreet pullman bags. He just had to hope that the border guards didn’t want to search them or they’d find far more than they bargained for.
Behind them were four girls from Vanner’s intel section in blouses and jeans. The latter had caused some screaming from the more traditional Keldara but Mike had thrown the weight of the Kildar behind the decision. The girls were potentially vital to the operation and they had to fit in. Most women didn’t wear skirts when travelling, even in this part of the world. A couple of the girls had looked askance when told they were going to dress in pants, but most of them had taken to them with glee. Change was coming to the Keldara in the form of Levi’s 505s.
In the last set of seats were four more Keldara heavies, the entry team portion of the shooters. They also had pistols holstered at their belts but in addition they had sub-guns under the seat. Mike dearly hoped that they weren’t going to start the op by killing a couple of Moldavan soldiers. That would be… bad.
“Hello,” Yevgenii said to the soldier as he rolled to a stop next to him. “How are you today?”
“I’m out here on this shit road,” the soldier grumped as the passports were handed across.
“At least it’s not raining,” Yevgenii said happily.
Mike looked around carefully. There were only two, the soldier taking the passports and his companion, who was leaning against a tree by the side of the road. If worse came to worse, they could probably take them both down without bloodshed.
The soldier flipped through the passports, pulling out a bill from the top one and pocketing it.
“You are from Georgia?” the soldier asked.
“Yes,” Yevgenii said, grinning. “We are a church group going to visit monasteries in your country and Romania.”
“And I’m the High Prelate,” the soldier replied, handing the passports back. “It is lonely out here, how about some time with one of your girls?”
Mike blinked at the suggestion. It wasn’t one he’d run across before, but he’d never been masquerading as a white slaver.
“I think that could be arranged,” Mike said, smiling. “I have just the girl for you…”
“That one looks good,” the soldier said, pointing in the window at one of the Keldara girls. As it turned out it was Vanda, one of Yevgenii’s first cousins. He could see the Keldara slowly turning purple at the suggestion.
“No, no,” Mike said, trying to keep the desperation out of his voice. If he didn’t get this guy to go for Cottontail there was going to be blood on the walls. As he was thinking that, the other soldier started to wander over, wondering what was going on. “I have a very pretty one for you and your friend,” Mike continued, hitting his mike. “Adam… ovich, tell Cottontail she’s got a special duty up front.” He only remembered at the last moment to use Russian and he knew he still had an accent. He wasn’t supposed to be talking at all! Damn Yevgenii!
“We will want one for each of us,” the soldier said, looking in the van at the back. “And I still like that one by the window. She is very pretty and has good tits.”
“Kildar…” one of the Keldara muttered from the backseat.
“Silence,” Mike snapped. “I have a girl coming up for you. She is very good, very pretty and can take you both at once if you wish.” He glanced in his rear-view and sighed in thankfulness as he saw Cottontail walking up the line of vehicles. There were a couple of cars stopped behind the line of vans, now. This was going downhill fast.
“Hi, boys,” Cottontail purred as she came around the van to the driver’s side. “You want some company?”
The Keldara women were justly famous for their beauty but Cottontail had most of them equalled at least. And when she put her mind to it, she could exude a sort of raw sensuality that was riveting. What was most riveting was that she looked like a teen virgin, even if she’d been with more men than a dockside whore and had the soul of Jeffrey Dahmer. Part of the strength of her act was that men rarely really looked at her eyes. Oh, they were stunningly beautiful, but men never got beyond that. They didn’t see the little fire of hell burning in the rear of them. Or if they did they thought it was just lust, not pure evil.
“She will be good to you,” Mike said, waving them away. “We will pull our vans to the side until you are… done.”
Mike got out and waved the vans forward and to the side of the small back road, then walked down the line, wishing he smoked. He needed something to steady his nerves. He was fine if it was a matter of killing everyone in the building, hole, ship or even town. But this shit was for somebody who enjoyed it.
He also took the time to wave the two cars that had been waiting through, and then found the chief in the fourth van.
“What was that all about?” Adams asked.
“The soldiers were bored and horny,” Mike said, sharply. “They thought it would be a good way to pass the time to ‘borrow’ Vanda as part of their tip.”
“The Moldav bastards,” Sedama snarled from the driver’s seat as the rest of the Keldara muttered angrily.
“Yevgenii nearly blew his top,” Mike snapped. “But this sort of thing is going to come up. Handle it. Talk your way through. I’ll tell you when you can kill someone. Don’t kill anyone until I tell you. Is that clear?”
“Clear Kildar,” Sedama replied, breathing out. “So Cottontail is taking care of it?”
“Yes,” Mike said, still angry. As much at himself as at the situation. He should have prepared for it.
“And on another crossing when we don’t have her along?” one of the Keldara in the rear of the van asked.