They spoke softly for a minute. Then she turned and introduced Franklin to the man she called only Gunner. He stared at Franklin for a moment, then smiled through his gaunt facial structure.
“Yes, an American. I lived once in San Francisco. Good town, plenty of rain. You want weapons to kill Mohammad Omar?”
“Gunner, I’m afraid that isn’t our mission. At least this time. We’re after the devil bomb, the holocaust-bringer, the vaporizer of whole cities in the blink of an eye.”
“The warhead from the Russian ICBM,” Gunner said. “You are surprised. I might be old and dying, but I’m not stupid. Yes, you can have any weapons you wish, no charge for such a noble mission. Qalat will show you the goods. You will need ammunition as well. I hear the caves are well protected.”
“I saw fifty soldiers there and two quad fifties,” Franklin said.
“Quad fifties? Were they mounted on a half-track?” Gunner asked.
“No, on the back of a half-ton truck.”
Gunner nodded. “Even so, those four closely mounted fifty-caliber machine guns can plow up the ground you walk on. It’s a murderous weapon.”
“Those two quads will be the first thing we take out when we attack,” Franklin said.
“First the driver, then the man firing the weapon,” Gunner said. “The hardware itself is hard to harm.”
Franklin smiled. “You sound like a soldier.”
“Once, long ago and far away. Now, here is Qalat, he will help you. I am tired. Forgive me.” He lay down fully and closed his eyes.
A tall thin man with flowing black hair and beard motioned to them. The subbasement Qalat took them to was heated and temperature- and humidity-controlled. It was a room fifty feet square, filled with weapons and arms of all types.
“You want submachine guns,” Qalat said. “Over here.”
It felt more like a swap meet than a normal gun store, but they had the goods. Quickly Franklin picked out four H & K sub guns of the same basic design the SEALs normally used. He found four more weapons that used the same 9mm parabellum ammo, the Beretta 12S made in Italy. All four were used, but all had the forty-round magazines. Franklin tested the weapons and examined them and pronounced them fit for service.
The ammunition was a problem. How much would they need? At last Franklin decided on two hundred rounds per weapon. The sniper rifles were harder to find. In the far corner they discovered them: two brand-new Stoner SR-25’s. The weapon is actually an M-16 modified to fire the NATO 7.62mm round for greater stopping power. These weapons had twenty-round magazines and a twenty-power scopes on top of the barrels.
All the guns and ammo went into three suitcases. Jeru tried to pick one up, and hurriedly lowered it back to the floor. Two men came to help them carry the goods out to their car. They stopped to speak to Gunner, who again refused payment.
“If it is something that strikes at this government, then I shall be well paid. When you’re through with the weapons, you can return them if you wish.”
Franklin said that sounded like a good plan, and they left. In the car, he noticed that Jeru kept looking behind them and twisting a strand of her hair. Her hands were trembling.
She drove back streets, and now and then she shivered. “You know if the Secret Police catch us with these weapons, we’ll be shot on the spot?”
“Instant justice, or what they call justice,” Franklin said. He took one of the submachine guns out of the suitcase and loaded a magazine and charged a round into the chamber. “Now we’ll be ready for them if anyone tries to stop us,” he said.
Jeru held her mouth tightly closed so her teeth wouldn’t chatter. She almost sideswiped a car on a narrow street.
“Pull over and take a break,” Franklin said. “This is really getting to you. Maybe I should drive.”
“No, you don’t have a license. That could cost you three months in jail. I’ll drive.” After a short stop she did better, and they made it back to her apartment without incident.
Upstairs, the two SEALs examined the weapons, and found them all in excellent condition. They loaded the magazines they had with the rounds and felt more ready to go.
A message had arrived for Jeru while they had been gone. It was from the Afghan Produce Company.
“That’s one of the cover names for the CIA here,” she said. She opened the envelope. They both read the letter.
“Have confirmation of plans for potato production. Special seed will arrive at the airport tomorrow just after 8 P.M. Please pick up the seed there. There will be eight cartons.”
“Might seem like kid talk to you, but we found out this is the best way to fool the people here,” Jeru said. “Anything that has to do with more food production is praised and promoted. We’ve been working on potatoes now for three years.”
“So it’s set. Murdock and his seven SEALs will be here Friday night about eight. We can go right from the airport, head southwest, and get to the first roadblock by midnight. Can you get two more cars to haul us?”
Jeru said no problem.
“Good. We take out the roadblock, then drive right up to a spot a thousand yards away and start hitting them in and out of the caves with the twenty-millimeter exploding rounds.”
“Sounds good to me,” Khai said. “ ’Course Commander Murdock might want to make some changes when he gets here.”
“Fast in and fast out is the best. Jeru,” Franklin said. “Can we change our round-trip return tickets to catch an earlier plane? Several days earlier?”
“No problem.”
It wasn’t noon yet. Khai went from one window to another looking out.
“Would you like to take a walk, Mr. Khai?” Jeru asked.
“Hey, that would break up the day. I’m about slept out.”
“Security, Jeru. He speaks no Afghan Persian.”
“I’ll send Jabal along with him. He’s a good shepherd. No one will even notice Khai in this neighborhood.”
Franklin hesitated. He had the con. A hundred things could happen. Relax. It would be fine. “Yeah, Khai, take a hike. Can’t hurt you any.”
“Thanks, Captain,” Khai said. He checked his money. “Plenty of good Afghan cash. Where is Jabal? I’m ready.”
Franklin watched them from his window when they walked down the street. They were supposed to be back in two hours.
When Franklin turned around, Jeru stood there watching him. She had taken off her blouse.
“Colt, there’s something I want to show you.”
“Hey, Jeru, I thought I saw everything last night.”
She laughed and let her Western-style bra fall into her hands, showing her heavy breasts.
“Sometimes things look differently in the daylight,” she said. She moved to the bedroom door and locked it, then walked back to him slowly, her breasts swaying, her hips pounding out an age-old rhythm.
“Looks like we have two hours to find out if anything is different,” Franklin said.
* * *
On the street, Khai looked at everything. It was a new world to him that he hadn’t seen much of. The people, the style of dress, the faces, the buildings. They all fascinated him. He wished he had his camera. He could get some amazing black and white shots to play around with in the base darkroom.
They walked down pathways labeled as streets that wound between buildings and around corners. Merchants, food vendors, and small business firms lined the streets. Then they came across a kind of farmer’s market where many types of fruits and vegetables were for sale. There were also several kinds of bread, and here and there some goat cheese.
He took it all in, buying nothing. Jabal bought some fruit they munched on as they walked.
They came around a corner, and in the wider street they saw a police sedan stopped. Three officers were questioning everyone who came by. Too late Jabal saw them and started to turn. One of the policemen yelled at him. Jabal turned back and shrugged. “Go back the way we came,” he whispered in English, not looking at Khai. Jabal walked t
o where the policeman was finishing questioning a woman. He looked up at Jabal.
“Where is the other one you were with,” the policeman said.
“With? I was walking alone. Yes, someone was near me, but he wasn’t with me, just walking past me.”
“Liar. We saw you with him before. He may be the one we are looking for. You stay here. I’ll find him.”
Khai had turned away from Jabal the moment the cop yelled. He heard the whispered warning, and walked away slowly to the corner. Then once around it, he ran. He went through one small street after another, not sure where he was. Then he looked behind him and saw that there was no one chasing him.
He paused and looked around. Nothing seemed familiar. He’d never been here before. He started to retrace his steps. No. The cop might still be back there somewhere. What was the address where they had been? What was the name of the street? Khai searched his mind and then shook his head.
He was lost in a city of over two million people, he didn’t speak a word of the language, and he didn’t have the slightest idea how he could ever find Jeru’s apartment.
22
Tran Khai leaned against a building and tried to slow his racing heart. Yeah, he was lost. So grab hold and get out of it. He was on a street with lots of businesses and some cars. Maybe someone spoke English.
Fat chance. Which direction had he run, south? Yes. So he had to move back north to find something familiar. He had no hope of finding Jabal again. Not in this crush and with his half-mile run. Yes, it felt like a half mile, no more. That gave him an initial point. So he would move that far back north and see if he recognized any streets.
Yes, now that he had a plan, he felt better. He had money, that was no problem. He could point and buy if he had to. Buy what? Food? He wouldn’t be gone that long.
The first few blocks were disappointing. Nothing looked familiar. He saw another police car, and he dodged into a small store until it passed. He went back to the street and continued on. He hadn’t felt so confused and alien since the first day he’d landed in the United States after coming from Vietnam. He would get through this, just as he had before.
At the next street corner he recognized a small stand where a woman sold live chickens. She would chop off their heads and pick off the feathers on any bird she sold. Yes, he’d seen it before, but which way had they come on the street?
He moved in one direction and his mind whirled. Had he seen the man lying in the street before or after the chickens? Yes, before. So he was heading the right way. He walked three more blocks, remembering things along the way. Then he came to the place where the buildings almost crowded out the sidewalk.
Jabal stood there waiting for him. He grinned, shook his hand, and said something that Khai didn’t understand. Then he laughed. He bought two ice creams in paper wrappers with plastic spoons, and they strolled back the way they had come.
“Policemen?” Khai asked.
“They were just checking. No reason to hold me. Angry they lost you. Glad I found you. Longer walk?”
“Yes, if no more police.”
They turned, and soon came to a river. On one side were luxury houses and apartment houses. On the near side it was a low-cost housing area, a slum, and Khai frowned at the contrast.
The two continued the walk for another hour, didn’t encounter any more police, and came back to Jeru’s apartment.
By that time, Franklin had the weapons all checked again, and had worked on a map of the cave area. He’d drawn what he remembered, and asked Khai for some input. Together they estimated distances and times require both walking and by car. They worked out two attack plans. One was with the use of two vehicles, either cars supplied by Jeru or captured transport on-site.
By three that afternoon they had the plans complete. Now all they had to do was show them to Murdock and get his okay.
Franklin found Jeru alone, and asked her if the Secret Policeman would come back tonight.
“He may. He is insistent. He hates me.”
“We’ll have to see if we can change his mind when he comes tonight. If you have decided to come out of country when we go.”
“Yes, I must go. My usefulness here is at an end. I have a sister in Washington, D.C., I can stay with.”
“Good. I’ll have a small party planned for your Secret Police buddy.”
The waiting began to drag at them. They received one more letter from the potato growers. The time of arrival of the potato seeds had been changed to 6 P.M., and there would be nine boxes of goods.
Khai frowned at the letter. “Nine? They bringing the J.G. too?”
“Doubt it,” Franklin said. “My guess would be that Kat will be coming along with the others to be sure this warhead is nuked out of here right.”
“Can she do the job?” Khai asked.
Franklin grinned. “Oh, yeah. I was with her in Iran when we had a long choggie out of that place. She did well. Saved the commander’s life in a tough firefight. She’s durable, smart, and pretty as well.”
They had just finished dinner when a knock sounded on the door.
“It must be him,” Jeru said. “Both of you, shoo out of here. I’ll get rid of him. If I can’t, I’ll want some help.”
“We’ll be watching. Remember, you can stand up to him. You’re leaving in two days.”
They hurried out and Jeru went to the door.
“Well, you’re slow,” the Secret Policeman said. He walked in, pushed the door shut, and took off his jacket.
“Don’t do that. You can’t stay. I have nothing to say to you. Get out of my apartment. Now.” Jeru drew a knife from her skirt. Jeru slashed, and brought blood where the blade cut through his shirt and the top of his forearm.
He gasped and reached for his weapon.
Franklin bolted from the near door, clamped his big hand on the cop’s wrist, and forced it away from the holster.
“What? Who are you?” the cop asked.
“A friend.” Franklin picked the weapon out of leather and threw it on the couch. The cop swung a fist at Franklin, who ducked it, let go of the wrist, and powered a right hand hard into the cop’s cheek. He bellowed in pain and staggered to the side.
“You broke bones in my face,” he cried.
“Good, next I’ll break your neck. Is that clear? Or do I convince you some more?”
The cop shrank back. “I need to sit down.” He flopped in a chair and bent over. The second he straightened, Franklin was there and kicked the hideout revolver out of his hand. Franklin heard a bone in the cop’s wrist snap. The man sprawled in the chair, holding his right wrist with his other hand, keening in pain and rage.
Jeru looked up, amazed and pleased. “Yes, you did what I only dreamed I could do. Now I’ll have to leave, no doubt about that.”
“Unless this poor soul dies in a car crash, or maybe goes into the river.”
Jeru stared at him. “That might be the best. He knows too much about me.”
Khai came into the room. He pulled the cop upright and bound his hands behind him with plastic cuffs. “As soon as it gets dark we’ll find a good place for his accident.”
“Now, Miss Jeru, it’s time you began closing up shop here and winding up anything you don’t want to leave open-ended. Within seventy-two hours you’ll be in NATO headquarters with us in Greece.”
She was shocked for a moment, her eyes going wide, and then her mouth coming open in a surprise “Oh.” Then she nodded. “So quickly. Yes, you’re right. I need to do several things. Friends mostly, so they won’t think I’m dead in a sand dune somewhere. I’ll tell my clients at the travel agency I have a long trip.”
It was completely dark an hour later. The Secret Policeman had said only a few words.
Khai and Franklin had talked it over three times, and at last decided not to kill the secret cop. Rather, they would wait until the next day just before they headed for the airport and crash his car with him in it. He wouldn’t have time to do anything about them before t
hey were off and moving toward the caves.
The next day went slowly. They had watched the prisoner, unstrapped him enough so he could eat, then used the plastic cuffs again. At four that afternoon they drove his car to a sharp hillside with a barricade at the bottom. Franklin did the final bit.
He had the cop in the front seat with his cuffs off. Franklin clobbered him on the head with a tire iron and knocked him out. The car was parked at the top of the block-long hill. He opened the hand throttle, steered the car down the slope, then jumped free. The sedan rolled down, headed for the side of the street once, then veered back and crashed into the barricade with a glass-smashing, metal-tearing roar. Franklin walked away from the hill without anyone stopping him, and was a half mile away in the other car before they heard the police sirens.
The pickup at the airport went smoothly. They met the pairs of SEALs on different flights and ushered them out to the three cars. Murdock and Kat arrived last, and when they came to the cars, they all moved away from the airport down to a quiet industrial area, where they stopped and had a conference.
Murdock had the plans as soon as he stepped into the first car. He worked them over and digested them, and at the talk he told the troops about the hit.
“You men have heard the plans. We move in these cars down southwest about three hours and get in position, then work the plan. Weapons will be distributed when we come to the first objective. I agree that we should take down the roadblock and keep our vehicles as long as possible. If there still are only fifty men there defending, they will be no serious problem. Any questions?”
Kat had one. “Once we get in the caves and find the warhead, how much time will I have with it before we have to leave?”
“How much time will you need?” Murdock asked.
“Depends on what kind of a job you want. I can make certain changes that will lessen the radiation, or I can simply set in the charges where they will prevent the bomb from ever working.”
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