Body Shot

by Amy Jarecki

  Garth’s chuckle cackled through the receiver. “It looks like you found yourself a partner, Rose.”

  “But, sir. What if—”

  “She made the better argument,” Garth said. “She’s going.”

  Mike shot Henri a heated glare—his expression a far cry from the way he’d looked at her when she was in a tub of bubbles a few minutes ago. “Roger that, sir.” He flicked off his phone.

  “No. More. Kissing!” Henri spun and headed for the bathroom. “It’s better if we don’t make things too complicated, especially if you don’t think I’m tough enough to go after a pair of terrorist thugs.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Mike and Henri used Canadian passports on the flight to Nairobi. His read Mike Emmerson, but Henrietta’s was Annabelle...Emmerson. Yep, according to their paperwork, they were husband and wife. Henri wasn’t impressed, but Mike thought it was a wise move. And their cover would be a lot more believable if they were a couple. They were posing as gem scouts, looking for deals on gems to supply to Canadian jewelers. Wearing baseball caps and keeping their heads down, Mike and Henri stepped out of the private Gulfstream and headed across the tarmac to a pair of tan-colored Land Rovers. A tall African man extended his hand to Mike. “Hey, boss. I was wondering when we’d meet again.”

  It was good to see a familiar and smiling face. He shook the offered hand. “You havena aged a day.” Then Mike gestured to Henri. “Hali Obasanjo, meet Annabelle. My...ah...wife.”

  Hali waggled his eyebrows. “A woman finally pinned you down, yes, boss?”

  Mike cleared his throat and threw an apologetic glance to Henri. “Mm hmm.”

  She smiled pleasantly and shook Hali’s hand. “Mike has had nothing but good to say about you.”

  The Kenyan thumped his chest. “That’s because I’m boss’ right-hand man. No one keeps him out of trouble like Hali.”

  “And he’ll get us across the border, act as master translator, and take care of our backup.” Mike gestured to the front Land Rover with five men, none of whom were smiling. Then he recognized an old friend in the passenger seat of the rear vehicle and waved. “I see Pili’s still with you.”

  “Pili will live forever.” Hali opened the rear door for them. “The drive to Arusha should take four hours give or take.”

  Mike gestured for Henri to climb in, then slid beside her. “With Hali behind the wheel it should be smooth sailing.”

  Except it wasn’t.

  A mile before they reached the border town of Namanga, the traffic slowed.

  “I dunna like the look of this,” said Mike, craning his neck and estimating the number of cars in the queue.

  Hali regarded him in the rearview mirror. “It looks worse ahead, boss. Maybe they can tell us what’s causing the backup in the shop.” He pulled over into a rundown convenience store and opened the Land Rover’s sunroof. “You best stay here with the missus.”

  Mike pulled a few bills from his wallet. “Get us a couple of Cokes and a bag of crisps, would ya.”

  “Sure thing boss.”

  “And water,” said Henri.

  Hali gave her a white-toothed grin as he opened his door. “Water is in the cooler in the back, missus.”

  After the guide headed for the shop, she reached over the rear seat and pulled out two bottles, handing one to Mike. “Missus? Why can’t he just call me Annie or something equally as irritating?”

  Mike cracked open his water and took a long drink. “Missus probably works better than anything. And if the men refer to you that way, it’ll be less likely to draw attention where we dunna want it.”

  Her eyebrows slanted inward with her leery look. “Are you still pissed that I’m here?”

  “Pissed means you’ve had one too many where I’m from.”

  “You’re from Canada, remember? And you’re still pissed. I can feel the irritation oozing off you.” One thing was for certain, he could count on the lass to speak her mind.

  Mike snorted. Perhaps he was a wee bit annoyed. He didn’t want Henri there for a boatload of reasons. Aside from the fact that she’d been targeted by Omar Fadli, a man who was rapidly climbing the ISIS chain of command, she was a white woman—well she might be half-Native American but around these parts she was a white bird and no one would give a rat’s arse about her heritage. A white woman in Africa always added complexity to any mission. Christ, things were hard enough walking around with a mop of flaming red hair.

  “So, are you just going to sit there and pretend I don’t exist?”

  Mike glanced her way. “Sorry. I’ve got a lot on my mind at the moment.” Yeah, he’d been absorbed in his thoughts, but his mind hadn’t been on the op where it bloody should be.

  “Like what?”

  “Like how we’re going to find Melvut Amri once we arrive in Arusha.”

  “Do you think he’s peddling the gems?”

  “No doubt.”

  “So, I was reading on the plane that there’s actually an Arab/Tanzanian population in Arusha. That the city is the most cosmopolitan in the western part of the country, and it’s a center for trade. Gold, tanzanite, diamonds all trade hands there.”

  “Tell me something I dunna already ken.”

  “Yep, still pissed.” Henri crossed her arms. “There’s got to be an angle for ISIS, otherwise they wouldn’t be here.”

  “Agreed.”

  “So what do they need?”

  “Guns.”

  “Yes, guns and military equipment, but I’m thinking sophisticated stuff.” She drummed her fingers against her lips. “What if they could get their hands on a guided missile system? What about tanks? I wish they were stupid, but they’re not. They can’t blow us out of the Middle East because they can’t come close to matching us in fire power.”

  “Thank God, and they never will.”

  “Never?”

  Mike rubbed his temples. Jet lag had a way of making him tense. “Not at least while we’re alive.”

  “You might be right, but they still need money. And they need an industry, or some sort of front that’ll make it for them.”

  “So, missus, your theory is that al-Umari and his goons don’t just want to sell the diamonds they stole from Avignon. They have established a business in Tanzania to launder stolen gems and turn them into cash?”

  Henri sat back and grinned. “Something like that.”

  “Well, if we ever cross the border, you might just discover you’re not far off the mark.”

  She elbowed him in the ribs. “See?”

  He gave her a pointed look. “But then you could be dead wrong as well.”

  She smacked him in the arm. “You’re insufferable.”

  “That’s what all the lassies say.”

  Her gaze shifted his way and drilled into him, charging the air with tension. “What lassies?”

  Before Mike thought up an excuse to avoid answering her question, Hali returned and climbed into the driver’s seat.

  “It’s not good news, boss.” He handed back the Cokes, two bags of crisps, and some peanuts.

  Mike looked out the window. The traffic alongside the shop had come to a standstill. “It rarely is.”

  “Word is the border’s closed. Another trade dispute between Kenya and Tanzania.”

  “Damn.” Mike hit the seat back with his fist. “I knew we should have flown in somewhere else.”

  Henri snorted, but she kept her mouth shut, which was wise.

  “You want I should go bush, boss?”

  “Bush? Like through the Serengeti?” asked Henri.

  “Didna you see that in your research? The Serengeti is west of us.” Mike knew he was being testy, but going bush was always dangerous and now even more so with a woman, even if she was a sharpshooter. Damn, Amri already had too much of a head start. If they didn’t move now, they’d have no chance at picking up his trail. He flicked his wrist at Hali. “All right then, go bush. Just stay away from any radical militants.”

  Chapter Sixte
en

  Henri watched the scenery pass as the Land Rover jolted along the pothole-infested dirt road while hot air whipped through the open sunroof. The area was hilly and covered with scrubby trees which made things a bit uncomfortable for a sniper. She preferred to have the best ground advantage with a wide view of the area. She also preferred to have her Win Mag in her hands with a half-dozen spare magazines in her bulletproof vest. Presently, she didn’t have a rifle, ammo or vest, which made her all the more on edge.

  “I thought you said they have guns?” Henri whispered in Mike’s ear.

  He pointed downward. “Hidden compartment.”

  “Caliber?”

  “Whatever they got.”

  “Ammo stores?”

  “Hali’s instructions were to come prepared. He kens what that means.” Mike reached over and patted her thigh. “Relax. Things have settled down in this region.”

  Right. Settled down with the border closed? Henri might believe him once they were on a plane out of there. In the meantime, she was formulating a plan in her head. Keeping her comrades alive had been her job in the Army. She was hardwired to it. And knowing Mike, he was playing up the relax thing for her benefit, which was stupid. He knew her past.

  It was late afternoon when Hali announced they’d crossed the border. Mike blew out a long breath and gave Henri a wink.

  She almost shared in his relief until they drove around a hill sloping to a thicket. Perfect place for a mob of thugs to stage a holdup.

  “Tollbooth,” Hali said over his shoulder.

  “Pay them off.” Mike glanced at Henri and moved his fingers down to the floor mat. He lifted it up, grabbed a Glock and inserted a magazine, hiding the gun in his belt. She did the same, spying an arsenal of M4s and ammo as he replaced the false bottom. “Insurance,” Mike said.

  Henri nodded. There had been plenty of road patrols in Afghanistan and they all wanted one thing. Money. If you didn’t pay up or blew through their barricade, there was certain to be an ambush waiting somewhere down the track.

  The guards were all dressed in camo gear and carried AK-47s. “Military?” she asked.

  Mike craned his neck. “Probably rebel forces or crooked police.”

  “I thought you said the civil unrest had settled in these parts.”

  “I did, but that doesna mean there isna any.” He gave her a look. “My guess is these assholes ken the border’s closed and there’d be dupes like us who will try another route.”

  “Great.” Henri rubbed her fingertips together, itching for a chance to put her hands on the cold steel of one of the rifle barrels beneath her feet.

  Hali brought the Land Rover to a stop and rolled down the window. “Hodi.”

  Henri glanced back. A pair of men toting AKs moved to the driver’s side of the second Land Rover.

  Four men remained by the lead Land Rover, two on the passenger side and two on the left. The man in charge was the largest. He was a mean-looking man with an ugly scar on his cheek. He sauntered back, shouting at Hali in Swahili. Henri couldn’t understand a word, but the guys with the guns looked like a mob of angry sons-of-bitches—not much different from Taliban rebels in Afghanistan.

  “You ready?” she asked Mike.

  “Always ready. But Hali will handle it. He’s a pro.”

  “Good thing, because it’s not going to be easy to pull out the M4s without those Rambo wannabes noticing.”

  “Give them the cash,” Mike growled, looking out the window.

  The man doing most of the yelling pointed his rifle at Hali’s chest. The tall Kenyan held up his hands and backed to the driver’s seat door. After popping it open, he ducked his head inside. “Just getting the dough, boss.”

  “Give it to them and get us the hell out of here!” Mike said through clenched teeth.

  The irate guard poked his head inside the SUV, his gaze shooting straight to Henri. The bastard licked his lips and cracked a smile.

  She glared back.

  Mike made a show of sliding his arm across her shoulders.

  Hali blocked the man’s view when he straightened and handed over an envelope.

  After checking the contents, the asshole launched into another round of shouting, this time pointing to Mike and Henri and carrying on like they were about to cross the border with a boatload of IEDs.

  “Blast it. Cover me.” Mike stepped out of the car. “What’s the problem? Isna there enough cash?” He led the guard to the front of the vehicle.

  When all eyes shifted away from the backseat, Henri quickly yanked away the carpet and shifted up the false floor. With no time to examine the equipment, she snatched an M4 and a magazine. Thank God Hali was better equipped than the commandos outside. The only problem was the guns were in the Land Rover. She glanced back to the rear truck—those two guards were standing either side of the Rover, hands on their weapons pointed at the ground, trigger fingers straight. They weren’t expecting a fight but, still, she could only pray the men inside the vehicle had enough sense to arm themselves.

  “What are they arguing about now?” she asked.

  Pili regarded her over his shoulder. “You, missus.” Waist high, he slid a Glock into her view. “Bad men.”

  “Can you handle the two on your side?” she asked.

  “Ya, missus.”

  Sliding across the seat, Henri reached for the latch but it slipped from her grasp as the leader yanked open the door. Yelling something imperceptible, he reached inside, his ugly face contorted by a sneer. In a heartbeat, the predatory glint in his eyes soon turned to wide-eyed terror as she lined up the sights of the M4.

  “Now!” she shouted, pulling the trigger and hitting the bastard from point-blank range in the chest with a 45mm bullet. The force of the blast picked him up and catapulted him fifteen feet away.

  From the front seat, Pili’s Glock fired, but his man was only clipped.

  Mike reached for his pistol, but one of the guards swung into motion. The Scot grabbed the AK’s muzzle and wrenched it from the man’s hands. Bellowing like a madman, the guard tackled Mike to the ground.

  Repeating fire erupted around them.

  With no cover anywhere, Henri darted up through the sunroof, took out the second guy on right, turned and shot the two standing by the rear Land Rover. Whipping around, she set her sights on Mike’s man. The two were rolling on the ground, fists flying. With a pistol in his hands, Hali couldn’t get off a shot without risking a hit to the boss.

  Mike threw a punch. His opponent’s head snapped back as he rolled away and pulled a knife.

  Henri didn’t wait. She aimed between the eyes and stopped the bastard before he had a chance to lunge.

  Silence swarmed through the air as the echo of her last shot faded. Not even a bird chirped. Mike stood and brushed himself off.

  “Nice shooting, missus,” said Hali.

  She looked at Mike. “Are you still pissed that I came?”

  “Oh, aye, I’m hotter than a hornet. Once the bastard saw you he reckoned you’d make a fine contribution to the toll.” He glanced to the dead man with the knife. “On top of that, I aim to wrap my fingers around a bottle of whisky and get good and pissed as soon as we take out the ambush up ahead.”

  Henri slid through the sunroof and down to the seat. Jerk. She’d show him. Eventually. No, the ambush wasn’t her fault, but they might have gotten away without a fight if she hadn’t been there.

  Fuck it.

  For now, she had more problems to conquer than proving her worth. Mike was right. These thugs always had friends. She slipped out the door and looked him dead on. “Okay, ace. What’s plan B?”

  Chapter Seventeen

  Mike and Henri took two of Hali’s men and set out on foot. There was absolutely no way he would consider leaving her behind. On top of everything, she was the best damned shot he’d ever seen. Still, since the commando-on-steroids back there had made it clear he wanted a piece of Henri’s arse, Mike was even more convinced that she should have go
ne back to ICE. The problem was he had no way to send her there now.

  “You know I can take care of myself,” she said as if she could read his mind.

  “Aye.” Except not even an ace with a gun could fend off an army.

  “Then why are you walking like you have barbed wire up your ass?”

  He increased the pace. “You might have been able to take out a mob of amateur guerrillas, but what would have happened if those guerrillas had been an organized group of radicals? What would have happened if they’d killed everyone but you?”

  “I would have been in deep shit.”

  “You would have been raped a dozen times or more and sold into slavery.”

  “So, that’s why you’re pissed? Haven’t you worked with women in the field before?”

  Mike had and he’d never liked it. For some reason he liked it even less now. Sure, she was unbeatable with a rifle in her hands, she could even give him a good run in the sparring ring, but she was still a goddamned female.

  “Well?” she pushed.

  “Aye, I’ve worked with women.”

  “All right then. You cover my back and I’ll cover yours. That’s how it rolls,” she said as if she’d solved all their problems.

  If only it were that easy. Plenty of soldiers had walked into ambushes they hadn’t seen coming. Anderson might have keen vison, but she didn’t have ESP. Before they marched into an ambush, they needed to spot the culprits first or else they were dead. God knew he wouldn’t be able to protect the lass if he ended up shot in the head.

  It didn’t surprise him when she held up her hand and whispered, “Whoa.”

  Even after blinking, Mike couldn’t see anything. But the hair on the back of his neck stood on end. Gut instincts trumped vision every time. Ahead, the road ran through a gorge with cliffs on either side. A perfect spot for an attack.

  She motioned for them to lay low and move behind the scrub. Hali’s two men didn’t say a word, but they understood Henri’s sign language and hid.

  “Did you see something?” Mike asked, pulling her behind the brambles.