The Somali Deception (Cameron Kincaid Book 2)

by Daniel Arthur Smith

  “I don’t want him to fly blindfolded,” said Pepe.

  “He won’t have to,” said Alastair. “Ari learned to fly in the Israeli military, he can comb the bush and desert better than most anyone.” Alastair turned his head to Cameron, then back to Pepe, “Then there is the intelligence training.”

  “Ari is Mossad?” asked Cameron.

  “Was, is, does it matter?”

  “Not at all,” said Pepe. He let loose Alastair’s arm.

  Alastair flashed his eyes at Cameron.

  “It’s never mattered to me,” said Cameron.

  Alastair grinned and then pulled himself up. Alastair opened a panel and then Cameron and Pepe in turn tossed him their duffels to stow. After he secured the panel, he climbed back out of the chopper, circled around to the other side of the cockpit, and then jumped up front. Ari was finishing his preflight checklist. Pepe and Cameron boarded the cabin and fastened their seat belts. Panels separated Alastair and Ari from the rear cabin. Between the panels was an opening. Alastair leaned into the opening and handed back two aviator headsets.

  “I brought the good ones, you can jack them up above,” said Alastair.

  Cameron took the headsets and handed a one to Pepe. Across the side of the large clunky headphones was the word Bose. The headsets were heavily cushioned on the top and around the large earpieces. Cameron slipped the velvet pillow equivalent over his head. When he jacked them, the air sucked away from his inner ears. Cameron pressed a hand up on each earpiece, opened his mouth wide, and moved his jaw around to see if his ears would pop. To his side Cameron could see that Pepe was doing the same. While his jaw was twitching side to side, he glanced up toward the front of the cabin to see Alastair smiling back. Alastair tapped a small switch on his headset and then tapped his earpiece.

  “These A20’s have noise cancelation,” said Alastair.

  Cameron could hear him through the headset crystal clear.

  “Christ, these are great,” Alastair continued, a sudden serious look across his face. “These would have been so nice when we were lads coming up.”

  Pepe said something that sounded muffled. Alastair placed his finger near the switch on his headphones and Pepe found his. Pepe spoke again, this time Cameron could hear him clearly as well.

  “These are nice,” said Pepe. “I need a pair of these.”

  “No problem, mate. I’ll put a pair in the post for Christmas.”

  “This is style,” said Pepe.

  “The best of the best,” said Ari through the headsets. “This is a Eurocopter AS 350 B3plus Squirrel, also known as the Dark Star. This little baby can go anywhere from the bush to the top of Everest.”

  Pepe pushed his lower lip high, “You mean somebody landed one of these on top of Everest?”

  “Heh,” said Ari. “I mean I landed one of these on top of Everest.”

  Cameron and Pepe watched Ari flip a switch above the windscreen and then heard his voice again.

  “Dark Star 1 requests engine start, Mount Kenya, Flight Level 320, two passengers, two crew, eleven and a half hours of fuel.”

  A voice from the tower came over the headsets, “Clearance to Mount Kenya, Dark Star 1.”

  * * * * *

  Chapter 9

  Laikipia Plateau

  Pepe was finally able to sleep. Countless ops in years past spent in the backs of planes, trucks, and boats made the copter, gliding softly through the hot Kenyan night, as comfortable as a waterbed. The light ache of fatigue in Cameron’s thighs and feet reminded him how they had spent the last twenty hours. Cameron had slept as they crossed the Atlantic. Pepe had never closed his eyes.

  The dense blanket of lights that had been Nairobi had funneled out into streams of wide lit super highways that in turn diminished to single lane roads, and then eventually stray beacons in the landscape. The course of the copter was a direct flight path. The silhouette of the far off mountains remained constant against the African sky and Ari maintained a bead toward the highest point in the horizon.

  “Take a look to your left,” said Alastair.

  Cameron leaned forward and peered down at the ground. Below them, among a field of black, was a large thick glowing white crescent.

  “Beautiful,” said Cameron. “Is that a hydroelectric dam?”

  “No, not yet anyway,” said Alastair. “They call that the Fourteen Falls. The eight lane highway out of Nairobi may reach here soon.”

  “Really,” said Cameron.

  “Bloody shame,” said Alastair. “We’re on a bit further on. Relax if you can.”

  Soothed by the subtle vibrations, Cameron rested his head against the wall of the copter and closed his eyes.

  * * * * *

  Christine shifted her weight to her side and threw a hand onto each of Cameron’s shoulders, pinning him on the picnic blanket. The loose strands of her mussed chestnut hair glowed from the sunlight above, creating a halo around her smiling face.

  “Hey,” said Cameron.

  “Why can’t you just tell me when you are going back to the island,” said Christine.

  “Why so many questions?” asked Cameron. Before Christine could say another word, he reached up and pulled her next to him on the blanket, so that they faced each other side by side. Christine lifted her brow, sighed, and rolled onto her back.

  “So that is it. You are the man of mystery,” said Christine.

  Cameron remained on his side facing Christine. He softly drew his finger down the bridge of Christine’s nose, then onto her lips. She lightly kissed his finger, then staring up through the branches of the oak, took his hand into hers.

  “I like that you’re man of mystery,” said Cameron.

  “Does it please you to taunt me?”

  “Taunt you? How so?”

  “You tease me by not telling me when you and Pepe have to return to base. You make me anxious,” said Christine.

  Cameron rolled from his side onto his back so that they were both now gazing up into the branches of the oak tree.

  “I thought there would be less pressure if you did not have to count down the minutes until I left again. I thought that if we could enjoy all of our time together, our time would not diminish.”

  “Men,” said Christine.

  “What does that mean?”

  “You think of yourself always. You know when you are going to leave. By doing this you do not spare me anxiety. You make me anxious.”

  “I make you anxious?”

  “You upset me because I do not foolishly think we have all of time. I feel you could leave at any time. I feel you are always going to leave.”

  * * * * *

  Cameron awoke to the jarring of the copter touching down. Ari switched off the rotors and began to power down the engine. Beyond the windscreen, the shrub filled flat landscape to the east rolled far out to a predawn eastern horizon, lit with hues of fuchsia and vanilla. Through the side window, night still held. Through the thin tree line, Cameron could make out a structure in the dim light, not far from the copter.

  “Here we are,” said Alastair. “Lanta Resort in the heart of the Laikipia wild country.”

  “Wild country?” asked Pepe.

  “Well, Lanta is a bit of an oasis as are a few other resorts about the area. We are, however, in the central highlands of Kenya. Laikipia covers almost two million acres from the Rift Valley in the west to Mount Kenya in the East. The main lodge is over the ridge. You will be bunking with us in the cottage.”

  Alastair glanced to the back of the cabin to inspect Cameron and Pepe and then pulled the jack of his headset out of the console to stow. Cameron and Pepe did the same and the three exited the copter leaving Ari to finish his post flight duties.

  Alastair led Cameron and Pepe to a slate path that slightly inclined toward the cottage, a fairly modern building, new perhaps forty years prior, built on a small ridge. The light was coming on fast, and though they could not see far into the surrounding morning, the ground and grass at their feet
and the trees nearest them were detailed and clear. At the top of the path were wooden steps that led up to a deck. Pepe and Cameron trudged behind Alastair across the deck and then waited for him to unlock the glass door.

  “Pepe, will you look at that,” said Cameron, looking back at the copter. Their climb had been short and gradual. The deck was above the tops of the small acacia trees, elevated enough to exaggerate their vista of the horizon.

  “Hmm,” said Pepe.

  Having unlocked the door, Alastair now joined them. “She’s a beauty. The sunrise is close to breaking. Wait ‘til then.”

  Pepe turned toward the door, placed his hand on Alastair’s shoulder, and then walked past. “I’d rather not wait.”

  Cameron and Alastair peered at each other. Ari stepped onto the deck. “Is he okay?”

  “Not yet,” said Cameron. “He will be, when his sister is safe.”

  * * * * *

  Chapter 10

  Laikipia Plateau

  Behind the billiards table, a large map of Kenya and the Northeast African Coast filled the wall. Crackled decoupage and hues of patina gave the map, no more than a few years old, an antiqued quality that dominated the decor of the game room. Tribal knick-knacks carved as tourist souvenirs were scattered across shelves along with a myriad of classic novels.

  “While you were sleeping, I checked the service Pepe set up,” said Alastair. “Your friend in London not only left a name for us, he also told us the location of the Kalinihta.”

  “My sister,” said Pepe.

  “Yes, your sister, and the crew.”

  Alastair put his finger in the center of the area of the map marked Kenya. “We are here, and he said,” he dragged his finger across the wall to the southern Somali coastline, “the Kalinihta was brought to port here. A bit south of where we would expect. We knew the GPS coordinates from Langdon, of course. Now we have specifics.”

  “I am guessing that intel came quickly,” said Cameron.

  “You most likely had not even left the Heathrow tarmac. How did you know?” asked Alastair.

  “The man in London was General Ibrahim Dada,” said Pepe. “We recognized him straight away.”

  “Ibrahim Dada?” asked Ari. “He goes by Admiral Dada now. If there were a pirate king, he would be the man. What is he doing in London?”

  “Admiral, eh?” said Cameron. “Well, he told us he was a diplomat. I don’t think he realized we knew who he was.”

  “I have heard this before,” said Ari, “high-level pirates working with the Somali Government to cut out the low-level competition. How did you recognize him?”

  “A past life,” said Alastair. “The boys and I met up with Dada’s lot outside Mogadishu when we were active. He was a warlord calling himself General Dada then. He became Fleet Admiral when he took over the Somali Marines.”

  “The Somali Marines?” asked Cameron.

  “Marines as in fishermen,” said Alastair. “At least that is how they started out. While Dada and his cronies were battling it out inland, Russian and Chinese trawlers moved into Somali waters. You know the story. At first, the fishermen just banded together to defend their fishing waters, cutting off the trawlers with their speedboats. Soon they were organized into four main groups,” Alastair pointed to different areas of the coast, “the National Volunteer Coast Guard here in the south, the Merca Group above them, here below Mogadishu, the Somali Marines based out of Haradera ran the coast north of Mogadishu, all along here, and the Puntland Group close to the horn here. The big fisheries caught on to pay to fish, and wasn’t too long before the fishermen had a new lucrative business.”

  “Why sell your fish at market when you can sell them at sea,” said Cameron.

  “Exactly,” said Ari. “That is when Dada took notice.”

  Alastair continued, “Dada took over the Somali Marines and expanded business. Under his leadership, they evolved to be the most powerful and sophisticated of the pirate groups with a military structure, an admiral, vice-admiral, a head of financial operations, and of course, Dada appointed himself as fleet admiral. Hell, he has a bloody navy to go with his army.”

  “Yesterday’s warlord is today’s pirate,” said Cameron.

  “Today’s diplomat,” Pepe corrected.

  “I suppose,” said Cameron. “And the people of Somali?”

  Alastair frowned, “Those that have not been recruited by Al Shabaab are at the mercy of the warlords, as always. Starving, desperate, a lot of the crimes that actually go reported are the desperate poor or rogue soldiers not following orders.”

  “Or street thugs,” said Ari.

  “Well, once they take up the sword,” said Alastair, “they’re all thugs in the end.”

  “I don’t know about that,” said Cameron. “Anyway, Alastair, you said the Kalinihta was a bit south of where you would expect. We had the coordinates, why would you say that?”

  “I meant for a hijacking. These pirates essentially operate as cartels with established territories. The Kalinihta first headed toward Mogadishu, then south. I thought the port a bit of an odd choice. Well, that was before I knew that the message came from Dada. Now it makes perfect sense. As Ari said, high-level pirates like Dada have been working with the Somali Government to cut out the low-level competition. So far the Merca Group has been pretty much forced out and Dada’s people have moved in,” Alastair drew his finger down the coast, “Dada’s message said Abbo Mohammed of the National Volunteer Coast Guard took the Kalinihta.” His finger stopped on a port town south of the location of the Kalinihta. “Their territory is pretty specific to Kismayu,” he then dragged his finger back up to the reported coordinates. “The yacht came to port in a territory that belonged to the Merca Group and is now predominately run by the Somali Marines.”

  “That explains how Dada knew so quickly. The Coast Guard are expanding their operations northward into his new territory,” said Cameron.

  “And he does not like it,” said Alastair.

  “That also explains why the men in the garage wanted us to stay away,” said Pepe. “I am sure Dada was more than happy to pass along this information.”

  “Hell, we’re doing him a favor,” said Ari. “That’s absolutely beautiful.”

  “Strange bedfellows, surely gentlemen, regardless of where they are spreading out landside, the attack in the Seychelles is consistent with the International Maritime Organization records,” said Alastair. “The Coast Guard have been seen out that way recently so this is only more reason to believe that we will find the Kalinihta there.” Alastair saw Pepe’s brow drop and added, “and that is where we will save Christine.”

  “Great,” said Cameron. “Let’s get to it.”

  “Right,” said Alastair. “Listen, I have a confession. I didn’t want to mention this until the two of you had rested.”

  “Mention what?” asked Cameron.

  An array of framed photographs covered the sidewall of the game room. Portraits and vistas featuring Alastair posing with resort guests, many recognizable celebrities, at various locations around Laikipia. “You see that photo, second from the left,” said Alastair. “The one with the elephant cub.”

  Pepe pointed toward one of the photos, “Here?”

  “No,” Alastair approached the wall. “This one,” he gestured at a photo of himself and another man kneeling on either side of an elephant cub.

  “Yes, so?” said Pepe.

  “That is a picture of my friend, Nikos Stratos,” said Alastair.

  “You know Nikos?” asked Pepe.

  “Well enough. He has stayed at the resort more than once.”

  “So you know him,” said Pepe.

  “I know him, and his father Demetrius.”

  “And you called his father?” said Cameron.

  “And I called his father.”

  “And?” asked Pepe. “Has the Kalinihta been reported missing?”

  “No. The yacht still has not been reported missing, though Demetrius did not seem surpr
ised to hear she was. He has given us substantial funding. Nikos’ father would like to see everyone safe. As he puts it, he is greatly disturbed by the circumstances, yet finds relief in that we are able to assist.”

  “Sounds a bit cold,” said Cameron.

  “He is Greek, I assure you he is not cold. Cunning yes, not cold.”

  “The Kalinihta still has not been reported missing,” said Pepe. “Langdon’s people would have contacted him as well.”

  “You do not get to where Demetrius Stratos is without holding a few cards. To report the Kalinihta would be to tell the world that he, a shipping magnate, could not even be trusted to care for his own personal craft. I am sure he already had a team assembled before I called. We are a convenience.”

  “True enough,” said Cameron. “Do we have a place to put this funding to use?”

  Pepe smiled, “I already know the answer to this.”

  “You mind sharing?”

  “Some ballistics boys,” said Pepe.

  “A couple of Ari’s mates,” said Alastair. “You’ll like these guys. He leaned his shoulder against the wall and glanced down at the floor, lowering his voice, “They’re blooming crazy.”

  Cameron winked at Alastair. “Great, and when do we head out to see these fellas?”

  “We are to meet with them tonight, after dark,” said Alastair. “So I had cook prepare a meal. I think we grab a bite now, put our heads down for a kip until dusk, then head to their bunker. They already know the target and have started the logistics.” Alastair then peered at Pepe. “Brother, we’ll have your sister safe at sun up.”

  Pepe raised his brow and conjured a smile.

  “Did you say bunker?” asked Cameron.

  “Heh, yes,” said Ari. “That is why we leave at dusk. They don’t take well to daytime visitors.”

  * * * * *

  Chapter 11

  Laikipia Plateau