Nick lifted binoculars and scanned the area. From where they stood he could see far up the coast. The islands and coves they thought might hide the terrorists shimmered in a twilight haze. Fishing boats dotted the waters. Shacks stood in isolated clusters along the shore. Farther along, the rusting hulks of two freighters lay half submerged in the water, a reminder that the Atlantic wasn’t always so peaceful.
"We’re close," Selena said.
"They wouldn’t choose someplace with neighbors. Our best bet is a single building, a fisherman’s shack. They need a place to park the truck. We can eliminate anything that can’t be reached easily. No steep footpaths. Take a look."
He handed her the binoculars. She looked.
"Nothing stands out." She handed them back. "We start asking questions, we’ll stir up trouble. There are a lot of shacks along there."
"Maybe Stephanie's got something."
Carter took out his phone and punched in the code. He activated the speaker.
"Nick, where are you? Wait a minute, I’ll call up your GPS." They waited. "Okay, I’ve got you. I think I know where they are."
"You do?"
"We picked up heat signatures last night, just north of you. Six bodies, one truck, a secondary source, probably a cooking fire. You should be able to see a bay from where you’re standing. The land hooks around and comes back below you in a narrow stretch that leaves a channel out to the ocean. You’re right on top of it."
He lifted the binoculars. "I see it."
"There's a track out onto that stretch of land and a shack almost all the way to the end. It sits by itself, down near the water."
Nick scanned the bay. "I see it, Steph."
"There are no other vehicles in the immediate area. At night nothing moves there. It’s too dangerous. At the least it's a terrorist hangout. It could be them."
"Steph, we need to get out fast if there’s shooting. It will alert everyone."
"I can get the plane to you at first light, east of you. I’ll send you the coordinates. There’s nothing I can do before then. You have to get in, find out what’s in the truck and destroy it, if you think that’s right. Try and protect whatever was in the back of that cave."
"You want us to leap tall buildings too?" Carter said.
"If you need to." Stephanie's voice echoed from the other side of the ocean. "Whatever is necessary."
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
Al-Bausari finished the evening prayer and got to his feet. A sudden stab of pain made him gasp and clutch his side. He staggered.
"Teacher, are you all right?" One of his men scrambled to his feet and steadied him.
"I am fine, Aban. Just dizziness from standing too quickly."
Aban helped him over to a chair. Bausari gazed out the glassless window at the ocean and listened to the surf wash up on the beach. The sun was gone, the heat of the day fading. An ominous red afterglow lit the sky. A gentle breeze off the ocean brought with it the smell of salt and rotting fish.
Ghalib came into the room. "Teacher, the boat is ready."
"Good. The package? And the box from the cave?"
"Already on board."
"And the ship?"
"It is off shore. The ocean is calm. It will be an easy journey, Teacher."
"All journeys are easy with Allah’s blessing."
Al-Bausari rubbed his crippled hand. His men gathered in front of him. Aban and Ghalib would go with him. The other three would rejoin their brothers at the cave.
"Allah watches over us," Bausari said. "God willing, soon all the world will know of His Glory." He looked at the men who would stay behind. Faithful men, warriors for the Truth.
"I will not see you again in this life. But we will meet in Paradise."
"Ín'sh'allah," Aban said. Then he said, "Teacher, the tide."
Bausari rose. He laid his good hand on each man in blessing. He left the shack and walked to the shore without looking back.
The boat bobbed in the swell, a gray shape against the deeper dark of the ocean. Two crewmen from the freighter waited in the boat. The package sat low in the middle, a boxy, vague shape. Bausari waded through the shallow water, holding his white robe above the surf. Aban helped him into the small craft. The light was all but gone.
The boat disappeared into the gathering darkness.
CHAPTER THIRTY
It was full dark. The moon was rising, a vast orange globe on the horizon. Carter let the truck coast to a silent stop behind a cluster of rock outcroppings. The shack lay below, a hundred yards away. A weak light shone through a window. A truck with a canvas top was parked a little way from the side of the building. There was no movement about, but the light meant someone was there.
"You ready?" Carter slipped the safety on his AK.
Selena picked up her AK and tapped the magazine to make sure it was seated.
"How do you want to do it?" she said.
"Let’s get to the truck. That gives us cover and it's right next to the shack. I’ll scope out the inside through that window. If someone comes out and sees me, shoot him. That shack is made of dry wood. If we have to shoot from outside, spray the walls at waist height. These AKs will cut right through. Give them the whole magazine, reload, and we go in through the door."
"And if no one comes out?"
"Then I see what I can through the window, I come back to the truck and we think it through."
They approached through the darkness. Carter's body buzzed with adrenaline. He heard the muffled sounds of their feet on the hard ground, the surf hissing against the shore, the breeze rustling over the ocean. The faint sound of Arab music came from the shack. Overhead, stars filled the sky. If one had fallen, he would have heard it.
They made it to the side of the truck and crouched by the rear bumper.
"Sudanese license plate," she whispered. "It’s the right truck."
"Cover me." He crept to the window and risked a glance over the edge.
There was only one room. Three men sat at a table playing a board game and talking. The music came from a small battery powered radio. One man smoked a cigarette. A bottle of fruit juice stood by the radio. Assault rifles were close by each man. A kerosene lantern provided light. Beyond, an open door revealed the shore and water.
He went back to Selena, squatted down beside her.
"Three men with AKs. They’re sitting at a table. We can take them through the window."
"Bausari?"
"He’s not there. No box or containers, either."
"What if this isn’t the right place?"
"Do you believe that?"
"Not really, but we’re not certain. We can’t kill them."
"Why not? They’re sure as hell not fishermen. You said yourself it’s the right truck. Sudanese plates? That’s too much of a coincidence. What do you think we should do?"
"If Bausari was here, they know where he went. We should interrogate them, find out what they know."
"There are three of them and two of us. They have AKs in reach. What makes you think you can get them to cooperate?"
"Something I've learned from you is that looking at the wrong end of a rifle does wonders for attitude."
"I don’t like it. We go through the door, it gives them a chance to grab those weapons."
They might have talked it out some more but the decision was made for them. One of the men stepped outside. He walked a little way from the shack, set his rifle down and urinated. As he turned back he saw them. He shouted and lunged for his weapon.
Carter shot him. Shouts came from the shack. A long burst of fire came through the window and ripped through the canvas of the truck that shielded them. Rounds hammered the body, sending bits of metal and glass flying. Carter and Selena's rifles danced in their hands as the magazines emptied.