Dangerous in Transit

by Sidney Bristol

  “Yes.” Jackie suppressed a cringe. “I’m Jacqueline Davis.”

  “Come in. Now. Quickly.” The man unlatched the gate. The other frowned at her.

  “What’s going on?” Felix asked.

  “They want us to come inside.” She grabbed Felix by the arm and pulled him forward. “Come on.”

  They were escorted through an archway that led into a private parking lot full of expensive cars. Faces peered over the railings, mostly women and children.

  “What is this place?” she asked.

  “This is the home of our master, Yenna M'Barek.”

  “What?” Jackie gaped at the man’s back.

  “What? What did he say?” Felix’s growing frustration was evident in the lines in his face, but she needed a moment to process this.

  “This, all of this, belongs to Yenna M'Barek. He’s currently one of the most influential members of parliament.” She quick stepped to walk alongside their guide. “Where is he? Is he here?”

  “No.” The man’s curt nod and clipped tone told her she wasn’t getting more from him. “This way.”

  He gestured for them to enter the structure via what appeared to be a utility entrance. The landing led down, and up. Their guide showed them the way down, under the building into what were the inner workings of the building.

  “Jackie, what the hell is going on?” Felix demanded.

  “Not now.”

  The man leading them jerked a door open and gestured into the dark interior.

  “They’re here!” A woman’s voice echoed down the stone and concrete corridor.

  “Hide here. We will keep them looking elsewhere. Go.” The man waved them into the room.

  “Thank you. If you have a medical kit, my friend is hurt. Thank you so much.” Jackie grabbed Felix’s hand and hauled him into the room.

  The door shut hard and fastened behind them.

  “Did they just lock us in here?” he asked.

  “Probably. This is a storage room.” She glanced around.

  The room had rows and rows of shelves, bins and stacks of dry goods. Cans, bags, boxes, enough to feed a small village. They could easily find a dark, sheltered corner in here.

  “Jackie. What the hell is going on?” Felix demanded.

  “We might have lucked into the best hiding spot possible. This house? It’s not a condo. I was here once. The property is huge. It belongs to Yenna M'Barek. He’s been sitting on the parliament for a while. He’s the loudest progressive voice. I’ve never met him directly, but if I had to put faith in anyone in the government, it’s him. Don’t get me wrong, he’s still conservative and has a black-and-white view when it comes to the religious application of laws, but in terms of who I’d root for, it’s him.”

  “Okay, but that guy wasn’t Yonni.”

  “Yenna.” She squinted at the shelves. The only light they had came through frosted glass tiles at the top of the room, likely ground level outside.

  “Sorry.”

  “I don’t know who that man was. My guess? An employee. Someone who works for him, maybe a descendant of family slaves. He recognized me. How, why, I don’t know, but they’re hiding us. Yenna isn’t here, but he wouldn’t say where he is, either. Part of me hopes he knows where the president is. Maybe he’s with him?” She peered down a row into darker shadows. Before they hid, she needed to check out Felix. “Come over here in the light. I want to see if you’re hurt.”

  She stepped into the largest pool of light and held out her hand to Felix.

  “We have bigger problems right now.” He crossed the floor to her.

  “Like what? No one is shooting at us, chasing us or even knows where we’re at right now. Just—humor me, please? Shane said you were shot and all I could think of was...” Her throat constricted to the point she couldn’t get a word out and tears prickled her eyes. She’d been running on adrenaline and survival instinct up until this moment.

  “Hey. We’re okay, Jackie. You’re right. See? I’m fine.” He turned in a circle.

  “Oh, my God.” She stared at the back of his helmet.

  “What?”

  Felix turned to face her and frowned.

  She could only stare.

  How was he still alive?

  He pulled off his helmet, wisps of hair sticking every which way.

  “Holy...”

  She swallowed and ran her fingers over the back of his helmet. A dent marred the green surface, but otherwise it was fine.

  “No wonder it knocked me off my feet,” he said.

  “What happened?”

  “I took the shot at the back tires, I face planted on the top of the cab then the next thing I knew I was staring up at Shane.” He placed his finger in the dent. “The bullet must have ricocheted off. I bet it was the fall that rung my bell.”

  “That could have been a bullet to your head.”

  “Yeah, but the ACH is good.”

  “ACH?”

  “Advanced Combat Helmet. I’ve heard stories of guys taking a sniper bullet to the head and keep going. Never thought I’d see it happen myself.”

  Jackie wanted to know who’d developed the helmet and where to send a thank you card. She wrapped her arms around Felix’s waist and squeezed.

  “I’m okay,” he said.

  “You don’t know that. Sit.” She pointed at a stool near one end of the shelves. “I’m not a nurse, but I’ve had enough head wounds I know the drill.”

  Felix obeyed her order, which was smart. She wasn’t going to cry when she could do something, and anything else at this point was energy they could conserve for more running later.

  She stood over him and Felix obliged her by turning this way and that. She parted his hair and felt around for any obvious injury.

  “There’s still a bump, and this part is sore, right?”

  “Yeah.” He winced.

  “You might have a slight concussion, but other than that—nothing I can see. This helmet saved your life.”

  “That’s what it’s there for.” He blew out a breath.

  She bent and wrapped her arms around his shoulders, taking comfort that for now, they were okay.

  “What about the others?” she asked.

  “No idea. Kyle took up the comms. I could call them, but what if they were taken prisoner and they trace the call back to me?”

  “No one had signal earlier, anyway. What do we do?” she whispered.

  “Stick to the plan. If we can’t get out through the airport, we head south, across the border and into St. Louis.”

  “But, what about the others?”

  “We agreed that our priority was getting you out of here. That’s the most important thing. Once we do that, the rest can be negotiated and figured out.”

  “They could execute them, you know?” She swallowed and glanced away.

  “One problem at a time, okay?”

  A man’s voice echoed down the hall. Jackie tightened her hold on Felix and strained to hear what he was saying.

  “Jackie?” Felix whispered.

  “They’re searching the building.” She glanced around the room. “We need to hide.”

  “Go down this way.” He nudged her between the shelves.

  “You, too. Don’t just stand there.”

  She grabbed his discarded helmet and scampered down to the very end of the row of shelves. Felix followed her to the furthest corner of the room where several barrels of mystery liquid were stacked two high. They squeezed between the wall and the containers, finding a tiny hidey hole barely big enough for them to stand smooshed up against the wall.

  Footsteps echoed down the hall, coming closer, almost drowned out by the sound of their breathing.

  Doors banged open.

  Someone pleaded with those doing the searching to stop, but it wasn’t working.

  Jackie groped for Felix’s hand, clutching it tight. She closed her eyes and whispered a prayer to whatever god was listening.

  The seconds ticked by. She f
linched at every bang and raised voice.

  All it would take was one, too-curious person searching to find them. A flashlight shining off Felix’s gear.

  “These are our storage rooms,” a man said, his voice strained.

  “Open it,” another man barked.

  “What are they saying?” Felix whispered.

  “Sh.”

  The key scraped in the lock. She gulped down a breath. The hinges made only the slightest bit of sound opening.

  “What’s in here? What is all this stuff?” the barking man asked.

  “Flour. Coffee beans. Sugar. All manner of sundry items. I’m sure there’s an inventory somewhere if you’d like to count them, too?” The long-suffering sigh was just about perfect.

  “It’s awfully clean down here.”

  “Would you prefer sand in your tea?”

  “Show me the next room.”

  The footsteps faded, and the door swung shut. Jackie didn’t breathe an easy breath until the lock clicked and the people moved on.

  “Oh, my God,” she whispered.

  “What the hell were they saying?” Felix asked again.

  “Room by room search. We’re good for now, but I wouldn’t make any noise if we can help it.”

  “Agreed.”

  They’d come so close to being captured, Felix getting killed, and worse today. If they could survive this, she hoped they could survive whatever came next. And that both teams were okay. Val was somewhere out there trying to help people who couldn’t get out. The rest of the Alpha Team might very well be dead or in custody. There was no telling. All she could do was hope.

  13.

  Sunday. Razqa Home, Nouakchott, Mauritania.

  Zeina stared at the man across from her. It all made sense now.

  To Lemine’s credit, he didn’t fidget or try to look away. He stared right back at her. Samba might be a foolish man, but he knew enough to employ intelligent people. Lemine was largely responsible for making Samba look good. He was also a single point of intel for everything the PPM was trying to do.

  “The house is secure, ma’am,” the head of her mercenary guard said in English.

  “Thank you. That will be all for now.” Zeina flicked her fingers at him.

  Given the state of unrest in the city and needing to take matters into her own hands, it had seemed prudent to retain the services of one group for her own. General Taleb was an unfortunate thorn in their side.

  Zeina lifted her tea cup and sipped the hot brew, taking a moment to smell the rich aroma.

  Lemine’s hands were still bound. He had no such freedoms.

  She had yet to speak to him directly, and the man only spoke Arabic. That was possibly his one negative trait. Still, he was smart enough to have become Samba’s right-hand man.

  “I know you sold information to the Americans.” Zeina tilted her head to the side. She’d deal with him like she would any employee who stole from her.

  Lemine didn’t answer or acknowledge her statement. That was fine. He didn’t have to like her to work with her.

  “You have two options, Lemine. Tell me what you know about their plans for escape and work with me on sensitive matters that need to be handled quickly—or I tell Samba the ugly truth. That you’re helping get Jacqueline Davis out of the country right now, because you don’t believe in Samba at all.”

  Samba might be foolish, but he was never kind. It’d been stupid, blind luck that the PPM patrol lucked onto the Americans earlier. Calling Papis and tipping him off was her only play to stay involved.

  The first waver at the corner of Lemine’s mouth. A slight tremble.

  There were no second and third chances when one was in the employ of Samba Hamadi. If Lemine’s boss found out, he’d been helping the Americans—even against his will—Samba would kill him without hesitation. Of course, Samba would want to verify what she said. He could hardly take the word of a woman. That was fine. Because her mercenaries were all over the city and knew who paid their salary. Samba didn’t hold their loyalty, she did. And soon, Lemine would be hers as well.

  Sunday. Al-Saddaaqah Hospital, Nouakchott, Mauritania.

  Valentina Sanchez washed the blood from her hands and focused on her breathing. Inhale all the way through the stomach, and blow it out on a long, steady exhale. There were, so many wounded and not enough medical care in the city. She’d run herself into the ground if she tried to help everyone.

  “Val! Val, where are you?” Duke’s voice, the tone of alarm, sent a chill down her spine.

  “Here.” She shut the sink off and turned, stepping out into the hall of the emergency department. She gaped at Duke and the other two men with him. “Kyle? What are you doing here? Where’s Val?”

  “He needs help. Now.” Kyle and Duke carried an older man into the break room and pushed everything off the small table.

  They set the man on the edge. Blood poured down his chest from a wound at his neck. She grabbed gloves and shelved her questions for later. Wherever Jackie was, Val couldn’t help her, but she could help this man.

  “Get him lying down,” she said.

  The two men eased the third down on the table top.

  “What’s he saying?” She pulled the bandage aside to get a glimpse of the jagged wound oozing blood.

  “He’s praying. This is the Imam,” Duke said.

  “What does that mean? How’d he get this wound?”

  “Someone broke into his home. They were trying to loot the place. I heard the screams,” Kyle said.

  “This is—what? A knife wound? I need a neck brace, an IV and blood. Duke, find me someone in a white coat, now.” Val only had so many resources at her disposal. If they got the wound cleaned and stopped the bleeding, he’d be fine. Judging by how deep it went, they weren’t at risk of damage to one of the main arteries, but it was a serious injury for such an old man.

  Kyle kept up a steady stream of dialogue with the man, even chanting some of the same words with him. Val left them to it and focused on the wound. Duke and a doctor passed in and out, bringing her what she asked for and setting up a makeshift room for their patient. Judging by the way people stared at the man, they all knew who he was.

  “In all seriousness, is he going to pull through?” Kyle asked in English.

  “We’re getting more blood in him than he’s losing. The bleeding has slowed. I’d say we’re past the danger point, but he’s an old man and these are scary times.” She shook her head. “What about Jackie? What happened?”

  “Shit if I know. PPM has Isaac, Shane and Adam. Jackie and Felix got away last I saw, but hell if I know where they are now.”

  “She could still be out there?”

  “Yeah.”

  Duke returned to hover in the doorway. His presence was a distraction she’d been avoiding since the moment she laid eyes on him. There was something intense about the way he looked at her as though he could see down to her heart. It was unnerving.

  The Imam started speaking, his gaze on Duke.

  “What’s he saying?” Val whispered.

  “He knows who Duke is, and he wants the court to advocate on behalf of the people,” Kyle whispered. “Duke thinks the Imam should encourage the people to protest. And...”

  “And? What?” Val glanced at duke.

  “He says he knows where the president is,” Duke said.

  “Is he alive?” Val asked.

  Sunday. M'Barek Home, Nouakchott, Mauritania.

  Felix’s ass was numb and the sand rash was going to drive him out of his mind before much longer.

  The initial stress of waiting to be found had died off. Several hours later, he was beginning to wonder if anyone remembered they were there. They needed water in a bad way, his head was killing him and neither of them had eaten since this morning’s spread with everyone at the hotel. Not to mention he’d like to try to find out where the others were. For all he knew, they were dead and left in the middle of the highway.

  Jackie stopped pacing an
d tilted her head toward the door.

  “I hear someone,” she whispered.

  “Behind the shelves,” he said.

  She darted past him into the darkness. From everything they’d heard, the people searching the house were several hours gone. It didn’t hurt to stay cautious. He backed after her. If need be, he’d protect her with his life. In practice he didn’t think it would come to that. Jackie alive was the goal for all of them.

  The soft thump of feet grew closer, punctuated by the jangle of keys.

  Felix kept his weapon lowered.

  Two shadows broke the dim light under the door.

  A key scraped in the lock.

  He held his breath and tightened his grip on the rifle.

  The door swung open, a young woman silhouetted by the single light bulb on behind her. She whispered and waved to them.

  “What’s she saying?” Felix hated not knowing the language. He could say a few key phrases, but that was about it.

  “Coast is clear, it’s safe to come up.” Jackie nudged at him.

  “Ask her why they’re helping us. How do they know who you are? Is there any sort of news coverage going on? Can we get a phone?” He edged forward slowly.

  “Can we do this one at a time?” Jackie pushed him forward.

  Felix stepped out from their hiding spot, but caught Jackie by the wrist.

  “I go first,” he said.

  Jackie spoke a string of words to the girl who replied. Felix grit his teeth and watched them, back and forth, biding his time and hoped for an answer.

  “She says they’ve locked down the house for the night. The PPM patrol won’t come back and the military has washed their hands of Yenna. They waited until after evening prayers so we can move around the house freely. The staff is gone, so it’s just family, which I take to mean the people who live here. Yenna doesn’t have kids. There’s a suite for us, dinner and everything.”

  “What about a phone?” Felix’s cell phone was an unfortunate casualty of the day, shattered beyond saving.

  “Come on.” Jackie grabbed his arm. “I have to pee. Walk and talk.”

  Felix stepped out into the hall first. The young woman, maybe sixteen to eighteen, took the lead, Jackie falling into step with her.

  So much for going first.