When Shadows Call

by Ernest Dempsey

  She hoped that wouldn’t be the case. That desire only grew as she crept around another steel container and saw the men climbing out of the vehicles. There were twelve of them in total, along with Asad, who was wearing a pair of aviator sunglasses and a black jacket and pants.

  The other eleven men carried their submachine guns slung over their shoulders. Asad, on the other hand, had no weapon in sight. That meant he was probably carrying a pistol or two underneath his jacket. A man like him was almost always armed. Of that, Adriana was certain.

  She watched as Asad waved his finger around. The men immediately trotted through the maze, checking the area to make sure it was clear. Two men stayed close to him while the others finished their routine and then reported back to Asad.

  When he appeared satisfied that the location was secure, they started toward the ship.

  Adriana crept forward from her hiding spot, moving quickly on her toes to stay as silent as possible. She reached the next container and slipped around the side to the front corner. Another steel box was in her line of sight, so she snuck to the back of it and looked around the edge.

  A man emerged from the cabin of the Bartolo wearing a dirty cap, a thick navy-blue coat, and a pair of dirty jeans.

  Adriana reached into her bag and pulled out a long-range microphone and pointed it at the ship, doing her best to stay in the shadows to avoid detection. She put an earpiece in her right ear and switched on the device.

  “Glad you made it safely,” the ship’s captain said.

  It was a safe assumption to think the guy was the captain, although Adriana figured it didn’t matter. He wasn’t the target.

  Asad blew off the captain’s greeting. “Where is it?”

  The captain cleared his throat, suddenly uneasy. He jerked his thumb toward the cargo on the boat. “It’s…it’s right over here.”

  “Show me.”

  This guy’s not much for cordial social conventions, Adriana thought.

  Adriana raised her binoculars with her free hand and pressed them against her eyes. She watched through the light from a post near the ship as the men climbed aboard and made their way to the center of the deck. Unlike the giants on either end of it, the Bartolo looked more like a tugboat that had been converted to a trade vessel. It was only fifty feet in length, and the roof of the cabin topped out around fifteen feet high. It was clear from first glance that this ship was accustomed to smuggling illegal goods.

  The captain stopped at the stack of crates in the middle of the ship and motioned to one of his men who’d been standing next to the cabin door. The guy, perhaps the first mate, hurried over to the box with a crowbar.

  “Open it,” the captain ordered.

  The man obeyed and started prying the lid off the wooden box. It took some work and he had to shift the crowbar from one end to the other, but eventually the top came free.

  Asad motioned to two of his men, who immediately shoved the first mate aside. They lifted the crate’s lid and stared into the box. Asad slowly removed his sunglasses and leaned closer. He stuck his hand inside and ran it along something. From her point of view, Adriana couldn’t see what it was.

  “You have fifty of these?” Asad asked.

  “Yes, just like you requested,” the captain said. His voice trembled. “CX270s. These are the most advanced, most devastating long-range missiles in the world. They fly close to the surface to avoid most radar detection. And missiles like the Patriot and others won’t be effective against these.”

  “Yes, I know the details about this weapon,” Asad said. “That’s why I requested them. They’re the most powerful non-nuclear warhead on the planet. The blast radius is over a kilometer. And with the resulting fallout from the chemical warheads we attach, the long-term results will be catastrophic.”

  “You’ll do as you promised? Yes?” the captain asked. “My family. They’ll be spared?”

  “Of course they will.”

  “And my payment?”

  “In full.” Asad reached into his jacket and drew a pistol. He fired a round into the captain’s forehead, spraying a pink mist into the light.

  Adriana flinched at the sudden execution. The first mate turned to run, but Asad fired a bullet into the man’s spine. The guy dropped to the deck, disappearing from Adriana’s view. He never got back up.

  Asad nodded to one of his men, who raised a radio and spoke a few quick words into it that Adriana couldn’t hear.

  She frowned and watched as the guards dragged the two bodies over to the starboard side of the ship. They worked quickly, tying the arms and legs to whatever heavy objects they could find on the bridge and on the deck, then dumped the corpses over the side. Two splashes, and the bodies were gone.

  A moment later, Adriana heard the rumble of a truck from her left. She turned in time to see the beams from headlights coming around the corner of a building. She dove around the other side of the shipping container, barely avoiding being seen as a cargo truck appeared on the causeway.

  The driver cut the lights so as not to draw attention before pulling up next to the ship. He whipped the truck around and backed in to make loading easier for the men aboard.

  Adriana rushed around to the front right edge of the shipping container she’d been using for cover. Asad’s men started loading the crates, carrying them up the ramp one by one. It took four men per box, which wasn’t surprising. Adriana didn’t know much about missiles, but she knew they were heavy.

  Her pace quickened. She had to do something. If those crates got out of the shipyard, they’d become an immediate threat and she had no way of knowing the targets.

  Adriana scanned the ship but saw nothing that could help her cause. Her desperation escalated. They’d already loaded a dozen crates.

  She searched the docks and found nothing helpful, not at first.

  She spun around and continued the search until she spotted a forklift a hundred feet away parked next to one of the storage buildings. Several spare propane tanks sat next to the wall.

  That was it.

  Adriana gave a quick look back at the ship. The men were still busily loading the crates. She’d lost count of how many were on the truck. That wasn’t going to matter if she could disable it.

  She ran on her toes between the stacks of shipping containers and skidded to a halt next to the forklift. She checked the ignition, but there was no sign of the keys. Her first instinct was to check under the seat. Luckily, the last person to drive it had thought the same way she did and stuffed them into a little compartment underneath.

  She shoved the key into the ignition and started the engine. She was relieved to hear that the propane-powered motor was much quieter than expected.

  Adriana hauled one of the spare tanks over to an empty pallet and set it on top. She repeated the process until there were four gas tanks propped on the wooden platform. Then she grabbed some rope sitting nearby and lashed the tanks together to keep them balanced.

  She climbed into the seat and analyzed the controls. It took a minute to get her bearings. She flipped a switch and pulled a lever. The forks lifted off the ground. She stopped the movement when the pallet was a few feet high and then spun the wheel.

  Adriana took a deep breath and spun the forklift around. She guided it down the path between the steel containers and got ready. The second the men on the ship saw her coming toward them they would likely open fire. She’d have to make sure the machine was lined up perfectly.

  She turned the corner and saw the cargo ship and the transport truck. Carefully, she straightened the forklift, aiming it straight at the truck as she stepped on the gas. The machine wasn’t fast, but it would do the trick.

  She jumped out of the forklift and rolled to the side between two big containers. Then she sprinted down the line, staying just in front of the forklift. Timing was of the utmost importance.

  The men on the boat started shouting. But they didn’t fire their weapons.

  Even better.

  She ma
de it back to her previous hiding spot next to the closest container to the boat and looked out. The forklift roared by, closing in on the truck.

  The men finally opened fire, but it was too close now.

  The truck’s engine roared, and suddenly there was a loud bang from the ramp dropping to the ground as the driver pulled the truck away from the dock and sped away toward the exit, narrowly steering clear of the runaway forklift.

  She hadn’t anticipated that. She’d forgotten the driver still being in the truck. Huge mistake.

  The forklift rumbled toward the men firing their guns, but their weapons were built for short-range, and the rounds loosed from their magazines flew wildly past the target.

  Adriana poked her head around the container and had to make a decision. Go after the truck or take down Asad and his men. Either way would be a win/lose scenario. There was no way to know how many of the missiles were already on the truck as it sped away toward the exit.

  Based on the time it took to load them, she knew there were still several on the ship, as was the target: Asad.

  Decision made, Adriana forgot the truck and worked her way around the other side of the shipping container until she reached the front right corner. The repeating pops of gunfire filled the air. She knew what would come next.

  As the forklift closed in on the ship, one of Asad’s men hit the explosive cargo on the pallet.

  One of the tanks ruptured and started spewing gas out of the hole. The thing didn’t explode, which surprised her for a second.

  The shooting ceased, and men’s voices echoed through the shipyard as they shouted orders to abandon the ship or take cover. Some of the men dove to the other side of the ship for safety. Others jumped back onto land and ran to either side as the forklift plowed into the port side of the ship, digging the sharp metal prongs into the hull. The cluster of fuel tanks slid over the gunwale and onto the deck, leaving one sticking up atop the others.

  The boat shuddered. It strained against the moorings as it rocked back and forth. The men who stayed on board, including Asad, stood up and dusted themselves off. They eyed the forklift with cautious curiosity, probably wondering what in the world it was doing there and where the operator went.

  Adriana was only thirty feet away, well within her weapon’s range. Just to be safe, she removed the suppressor to help with accuracy and took aim at the tank poking up over the side of the ship. She waited, watching the men approach the wreckage. Asad was already issuing orders and pointing at the fuel tanks. The men who’d jumped ship hurried over to the forklift and shut off the motor.

  Now was her chance.

  Adriana squeezed the trigger. The bullet struck the gas tank before the men could turn their heads to see where the shot came from. It ripped a hole in the metal, and propane immediately spewed out in a white mist.

  The men ducked for cover as she fired again. This time, the spark from hitting the tank did the trick. The tank exploded in a fiery orange ball. Then the others ignited one after the other in a massive display of flaming destruction.

  The boat’s hull was engulfed in huge fireballs that rolled up into the sky and turned to black smoke. The flames roared across the deck, scorching the crates and setting them alight within seconds.

  Adriana didn’t watch. Based on what she’d heard about the missiles, she knew she had to get as far away as possible.

  She ran hard toward the nearest concrete building she could find, which was back where she’d found the forklift. She reached the door and found it locked. Two quick bullets through the lock fixed that problem, and she dove inside the dark space.

  Another explosion rocked the shipyard.

  She found another forklift inside. This one was missing its wheels. She crouched up against it, bracing for a big bang. After several minutes, she started to relax.

  “The warheads weren’t armed,” she thought. That was why no big boom had come.

  She cautiously stepped over to the door and peeked out.

  The Bartolo was completely engulfed in a raging fire. She could hear the first signs of sirens, but they were still far away.

  She left the building and started running back toward her car. Asad was dead. That would be a problem. He was the last connection. Adriana made a quick decision, and now she worried it was the wrong one.

  Asad was their only connection to the rest of the Red Ring. Without him, finding the next person in the chain would be much more difficult.

  Unless she could find the truck. She stopped and looked down the path toward the exit where the truck had disappeared a few minutes before.

  That was her only chance.

  10

  London

  Adriana slumped down on the bed in her hotel. It was nearly midnight, and she was exhausted. She still had the smell of smoke on her clothes. She sighed and ran her fingers through her tangled hair.

  She’d spent hours trying to locate the truck, but she may as well have been trying to find a nickel in the Atlantic Ocean. The vehicle was gone, and there was no way she could find it.

  She’d failed. And now there were at least a few dozen dangerous warheads floating around the UK.

  How many innocent lives would be lost because of her incompetence? She retraced everything leading up to her decision to join Shadow Cell. She’d thought she could make a difference, save lives. Now people were going to die because of her. Sure, the terrorists had fewer missiles than they wanted, maybe as little as half. That meant half the targets. As much as she wanted to look at it as a glass-half-full scenario, she couldn’t.

  She laid her head back on the mattress and sighed.

  There was nothing Adriana could do. She’d have to report to June that Asad and his men were dead but the truck’s driver managed to get away with—what had the ship captain called them?

  She propped herself up on the bed and looked over at the gear bag she’d set on the desk in the corner. A second later she was hovering over it, pulling out the device she’d used to record Asad’s conversation. It only took a few seconds to rewind it. As she listened to the recording, she heard what the captain had called the missiles.

  CX270s.

  She flipped open her laptop, and when it connected to the Wi-Fi she entered a search for the same name.

  Images of the long-range weapons appeared on the screen along with several results. She clicked on the first one and started reading.

  The CX270s were long, slender missiles and looked more like air-to-air weapons she’d seen fixed on jet fighters in the past. They weren’t ICBMs, which were much larger and required silos or massive storage facilities. By contrast, the CX270 couldn’t cover thousands of miles, but it could cover hundreds. According to the information on the web page, it worked by detonating over the target and dropping hundreds of smaller, powerful explosives down from above.

  She noticed a video of some test footage and clicked the play button. Her eyes grew wide as she watched the missile launch from a portable unit somewhere in the desert. It soared into the sky and then popped over a small ridge. Dozens of warheads streaked down through the air. A moment later, the mountain exploded in an enormous plume of fire, smoke, and debris.

  “Whoa,” she muttered.

  The guilt in her chest grew.

  Adriana had to find that truck no matter the cost. She’d exhaust every connection she had, scour the earth until she tracked it down.

  A vibrating interrupted her thoughts. It was muffled and low, coming from the other room. She glanced over and remembered she’d left her phone in her jacket pocket.

  The second she picked up the jacket, she realized it wasn’t her phone. It was Youssef’s. She still had it.

  She looked at the number. It was Asad or at least the number he’d used before.

  The call brought a rush of new thoughts to her head. How had he survived the explosion and fire at the docks? She’d seen him a moment before the propane tanks blew.

  The only thing Adriana could figure was that he’d been th
rown clear of the fire by the blast. Maybe he dove into the water at the last second. Either way, it was Asad’s phone calling Youssef’s.

  The buzzing stopped. Adriana stared at it for a minute, waiting to see what would happen next. As she expected, the device vibrated once. The screen displayed a new voice mail was waiting for her.

  She hit the listen button on the screen and put the device to her ear.

  It was Asad.

  “I find it troubling that on an evening when you failed to meet at our rendezvous that we came under attack. You and I go back a long ways, Youssef. Because of our friendship and your past loyalty to our cause, I will give you one chance to explain yourself. Meet me at the Imperial in one hour. Otherwise, I will hunt you down and kill you myself.”

  The voice mail ended.

  Adriana looked down at the screen and then set the device on the desk. “So, he is alive,” she said to herself. Under the circumstances, her heart filled with hope again. If Asad was alive, he might have the rest of the missiles.

  The second reason for hope was that Asad apparently believed Youssef was still alive. From the sound of it, Asad must have thought Youssef was responsible for the attack at the shipyard.

  She picked up the phone and stared at it. If she didn’t respond, Asad might get spooked or he might just disappear. She had to keep him on the line. She tapped away at the keyboard and hit send.

  I’ll be there in 45 minutes.

  She set the phone down again and waited to see if he would respond. After a few minutes, she figured no message was coming.

  Adriana slid into the desk chair and entered a search for the Imperial. The results populated on the screen, and she picked the first one. The waypoint appeared on the map along with reviews, directions, and hours.

  The Imperial was a late-night tea and hookah bar, open until 3 o’clock in the morning. She was glad to see it was only about fifteen minutes away.