The War Business: A Sam Raven Thriller

by Brian Drake

  Raven landed a solid punch between the flaps of the man’s open jacket. He connected with Watcher One’s gut. Air rushed out of the man as he swung his pistol at Raven’s head. Raven ducked, grabbing the arm with both hands and twisting. He pulled the arm behind Watcher One’s back. The man bent backward, yelling again. Not in pain, but for his partner. Raven reached for the gun, but then Watcher Two arrived. Watcher One kicked at Raven’s right leg. Pulling the pistol free, Raven fired at Watcher Two.

  The suppressed pistol shot sounded like a loud snap, and the bullet missed. Raven still achieved a desired result. Watcher Two dived for cover.

  Raven pivoted and broke into a run for the port. Pistol snaps behind Raven signaled more shots. Raven weaved, reaching the pavement and racing across to the parking lot of a building. A line of trees covered the front of the building. Raven entered the shadows they offered, and moved along the wall to the corner. He ran again. A jetty lay ahead with boats docked on either side. At the end of a longer jetty adjacent sat a silent freighter. Raven kept moving. More lights meant he was easier to see. Less trees meant he was an easier target.

  He reached a walkway with an iron railing to prevent falls into the water. More jetties, bigger boats, and tall cranes all around. He ran ahead. A darkened building twenty yards away looked good. He didn’t look back. Stopping in an alcove, Raven held the pistol beside his leg and watched the way he’d come. It didn’t take long for the watchers to appear, with Watcher One staying behind his armed partner.

  Raven glanced at the pistol. It was a foreign make he didn’t recognize, one more familiar to Eastern Europe. He hoped it proved reliable. The thick grip told him the magazine was of high capacity, but he didn’t know how many rounds remained.

  Raven looked around. Open space in front of him with an area of overgrowth. Off to the right, more of the port, but he’d be exposed as soon as he left the alcove. The only good news was the terrain didn’t favor the watchers, either. He decided to make a stand where he was and get back to Kirova Street.

  The watchers continued their approach. When they were finally within twenty yards, Raven made his move.

  He raised the gun and fired once. Watcher Two shouted, and as Watcher One hit the ground, Two met Raven’s challenge. Raven’s shot had missed, and as he put pressure on the trigger once more, nothing happened. A glance at the gun explained the issue. The slide had not returned to battery. The gun had jammed while cycling a cartridge. Raven was holding a paperweight.

  There was nowhere to run, so Raven charged. At the same time, he snapped back the slide to eject the jammed cartridge. Watcher Two fired hastily and the round whispered over Raven’s head. By then he collided with Watcher Two and took him to the ground.

  Watcher Two deflected Raven’s blows and pushed his gun arm away. He smacked Raven on the side of the head with his own autoloader. Raven felt the blow. It stunned him, made his eyes spin, but Two hadn’t delivered the strike with 100% force. Watcher Two still had a grip on Raven’s right arm. The pistol might not be jammed any longer, but Raven couldn’t get the weapon into action. Watcher Two pulled his right arm back and pointed his gun at Raven’s face.

  And then Watcher One joined the fight.

  With a yell he charged Raven, tackling him, rolling across the ground with Raven underneath and then on top, then underneath again. The gun flew from Raven’s hand. Watcher One struck Raven’s face once before Raven returned the favor, hitting as hard as he could. Watcher One grabbed for Raven’s head. Two gained his feet and yelled for his partner to get out of the way. Watcher One lifted Raven’s head to bash it on the pavement. Raven slipped his hands between the man’s arms and forced the grip apart. Raven slammed the heel of his palm into Watcher One’s chin and the blow forced One back. He rolled away. Watcher Two lined Raven up in his sights.

  Men started yelling. Watcher Two held up his hands and yelled something to Watcher One. A spotlight shined on them. More voices joined in, men shouting for Two to drop the gun. The voices were many, speaking with authority, and Raven turned his body to look. Four uniformed soldiers with Kalashnikovs ran at them. The one who held the light shouted louder than his comrades.

  The soldiers circled them. The watchers raised their hands. Raven stayed on the ground as the soldiers told the two men to get on their knees. The watchers complied. The man with the spotlight shined the beam in Raven’s face, and gave him the same orders.

  “I’m unarmed,” Raven told them. He sat up and held out his empty hands. “I’m an American tourist! Tourist!”

  The soldier with the spotlight took out his pistol and told Raven not to move. Then he told another to use his radio and call their superior officer.

  Raven began running his rap. The troops didn’t understand a word but he needed to get his story going. While the soldier with the pistol covered Raven, the others questioned the watchers. Their words were harsh. They had the armed pair in a tight spot. Somebody found One’s gun and held onto it.

  Moments later, the commanding officer arrived in a UAZ-469 with the roof removed. He left the vehicle and approached the group. The man covering Raven spoke a few words, and the officer nodded. He told him to put his pistol away and addressed Raven.

  “You’re American?”

  “Yes.”

  “What are you doing here?”

  “Jet lag. Couldn’t sleep. I walked to the park and these two came after me.”

  “You shouldn’t be out after dark.”

  “No shit.”

  “Identification, please.”

  Raven didn’t have to pretend to shake. The blow to the head made him unsteady. The officer helped him to his feet and let him lean against the hood of the UAZ. Raven produced his papers. The officer whistled for the man with the light, who came running to shine the light on Raven’s papers.

  “You are journalist?”

  “Here on assignment, yeah.”

  “Hmmm.”

  “My papers are in order,” Raven said.

  The officer made no comment as he examined the items. He said something to the soldier with the light, who turned it off. The officer handed back Raven’s stuff.

  “It can be dangerous after dark,” the officer said. “I’m sorry for your jet lag, but you should have stayed in your hotel.”

  Raven nodded.

  “I will have one of my men look at the wound on your head. It’s bleeding.”

  Raven felt the gash. His fingers came away wet with blood. “It’s okay. I’ve suffered worse.”

  “You might have a concussion.”

  “I swear I’m fine. I’ll go back to the hotel and sleep it off.”

  “Our apologies. We try to keep the streets clear of this.” He gestured dismissively at the watchers. The pair now had their hands zip-tied behind their backs. Neither looked enthusiastic.

  “Enjoy the rest of your stay in Kerch.”

  “I’ll try.”

  “What is your assignment?”

  Raven forced a laugh. “We’re doing a special on the new tourist resorts you're building.”

  “I trust this unfortunate incident won’t factor into your reporting.”

  “No. And I will tell my colleagues to stay indoors at night.”

  “We would appreciate it. Can you find your way back?”

  “It’s across the street. Hotel Kerch.”

  “Ah, yes, very nice there.”

  Raven stood back with the officer while his men loaded the watchers into the UAZ. The driver took them and some of the soldiers away. The officer snapped orders, and the rest followed on foot. With a final goodbye, the officer left Raven. He stood a moment to watch them go. He still felt unsteady, his vision tilting, but the sensation would pass.

  He had no intention of going back to the hotel. He wasn’t done for the night.

  38

  The address provided by Clark Wilson was a building at Port Kavkas. It was a few miles from the hotel on Kirova Street, but not close enough to walk.

  When R
aven reached the street, the outdoor party at “Cherri” was still going. Music from inside filtered outside. Raven used a handkerchief to stop the blood from his wound. He'd cleaned away the worst using a water fountain in the park playground.

  There was still the question of who the watchers had communicated with. The smart thing to do would be to follow the Russian officer’s suggestion of going back to his room. Raven instead caught a bus. He sat on the left aisle to hide his head wound. Nobody on the bus noticed. The late workers were few, and most stared at their phone screens.

  He wondered how Tracy was doing. She should have left by now.

  He watched the passing port through the right-side windows. The tinted windows made it tough to pick out any specific exterior features. When the bus made its next stop, he hopped off. Alone. The bus rumbled away leaving only the breeze for company.

  Raven started walking, checking addresses as he moved. After a block he found the building he was looking for. The front of the building was dark, but lights lit the rear. A chain-link fence blocked access to the back. Raven walked along the fence looking for anything unusual. He didn’t expect to run into Aaron, but if he had been to the place, there had to be a reason why.

  Tracy exited the hotel 20 minutes after Raven. She was too anxious to sit still. Also, unlike him, she carried her pistol. The gun rode in the harness under her jacket.

  She’d called a taxi and met the driver outside. Giving him the Port Kavkaz address, she sat alert but relaxed.

  The driver sped along Kirova Street at a fast clip. She only had a brief look at the activity outside Club Cherri and wished she had more time for a social life. But there were more important things to do than party; it was the reason she worked so much.

  Tracy looked back through the rear window. Only a few cars, but any one of them might have been—

  One was following. The driver of a black Audi weaved around cars until it was two car lengths behind the taxi. A chill of excitement raced up her neck. Raven might have drawn away some of the surveillance crew, but they had back-up. She sat forward and wondered how many were in the Audi.

  Time to lay her pre-planned snow job on the driver.

  “Hey, I’m at the hotel hiding from my husband. Can you make a few turns? I think he’s behind us.”

  “We will lose him,” the driver said with a grin. “I am best driver in Kerch, don’t worry.”

  Tracy started to say thank you but before she had the words out the driver made a sharp left. He cut across the opposite lane to continue up a perpendicular street. The scenery flashed by, mostly dark apartment buildings.

  “Yup, somebody is following us, miss.”

  Tracy turned in her seat. Another vehicle closed fast. She couldn’t ID the car but the headlight pattern looked like the Audi’s. There was no reason to doubt it was the Audi.

  Another sharp turn. This time to the right, with tires screeching. Hard brake; the driver twisted the wheel left; the cab bumped the edge of the curb going into a narrow alley.

  Only the cab’s headlamps sliced a path through the dark alley. Tracy’s breath quickened and she sank in the seat. The brick walls on either side seemed to close in; Tracy gasped. But then the wheels screeched onto asphalt again as the driver hooked right. He continued along a residential street lined with trees and parked cars.

  “Check back, miss,” the driver said. Tracy caught his reflection in the rearview mirror. He was grinning.

  Tracy looked. Nothing behind them but dark street.

  “Great,” she said. “I owe you a big tip.”

  “No charge,” the driver said. “That was fun!”

  Tracy thought of the pistol under her jacket and how she might have needed it if the driver screwed up or if the enemy had been a little better.

  You don’t know what you missed, pal.

  Raven saw no sign the chain-link fence was electrified. He picked a spot forty yards away and climbed over. The barbed wire on top stabbed through his clothes but he ignored the discomfort. Landing on the other side, he wiped his hands on his jeans and headed for a building nearby.

  A sign in Cyrillic hung in front advising the building was for lease. He watched the warehouse from the doorway, noting, for the first time, its high domed roof. Lights on inside. Most of the brightness was in the rear facing the water. At the jetty sat a large freighter with a ramp connecting to the jetty’s plank. A crane extended from the port over the freighter’s bow. Had Aaron and Draco brought the stolen explosives and weapons to Kerch using the ship? It made sense, though he wondered where they’d departed from since Nevada was landlocked.

  The side of the warehouse he faced had a few doors at ground level. Two sets of stairs ended at doors on the second floor. He wanted to get closer, get inside.

  He waited. Raven wondered where Tracy was. Then he stopped wondering, and stopped thinking, as a pair of sentries appeared. They came from the rear and stopped at each of the ground floor doors, tugging on doorknobs. Both men spoke quietly, but Raven only picked out a few words at his distance. The word which stood out the most was “inventory”. And the crew wasn’t happy about working late.

  Both lit cigarettes and stood smoking and complaining and gossiping. Raven remained in the shadow of the empty building. Where was Tracy?

  After a few minutes, the two sentries flicked away their smokes and headed back to the rear of the building. Raven gave them an extra minute and broke cover. He crossed the distance, taking cover again about ten yards from the side. A stack of pallets near the fence provided his shield this time. Another pause and scan.

  Headlights flashed on the pallets before shifting away. A car stopped in front of the warehouse. A black Audi. Four men exited, and a fifth met them at the front door.

  The fifth man said, “What happened?”

  Raven stayed put. The driver gave the report. He explained the two “who went after Raven” didn’t come back, and “the woman” hopped in a cab and they lost her.

  The fifth man told the four to keep their weapons handy. Nobody inside was able to stop what they were doing to stand guard. The Americans might come snooping, the man continued. The Audi crew drew side arms and followed the fifth man inside.

  Great.

  Then again, Raven decided, the arrival of the gun crew presented an opportunity. For distraction. Their arrival might make the rest look the other way a moment and allow Raven a chance to slip through.

  Raven left the pallets and hurried for a set of stairs.

  39

  Raven took the steps two at a time. He felt the strain when he reached the top, but didn’t slow down. Testing the doorknob, he felt it turn. He slipped inside. Nobody waited opposite. He pulled the door closed behind him.

  He squatted on the metal walkway. Ahead off his left, an empty office with the lights on. Below, a different story.

  Crates. A lot of crates. They bore Osborne Defense stencils on the sides. Most were open. On the warehouse floor lay the contents. A small number of men counted items, made notes on clipboards, and examined each piece of equipment.

  Rifles and machine guns of various makes. A stack of C-4. The blocks of plastic explosive must have been two feet high. Cases of ammunition. Enough ordnance to equip a small battalion.

  The gun crew from the Audi and the fifth man entered. The fifth man ordered them to spread out, check outside now and then, and stay out of the way.

  Raven remained close to the wall and away from the edge of the walkway. He didn’t want to be seen if somebody looked up. What he wanted next was a peek in the office. The voices below echoed, the counting resuming with the arrival of the gun crew. Raven’s pulse beat hard. With the gunners on scene, getting out might be tougher than getting inside. How long before the gunners checked the office and upstairs doors? Had Raven been down there, it would be first priority.

  The office had two desks on either side of the doorway. They were desks made of steel, very heavy, the kind of industrial strength stuff not found in executive of
fice suites. Raven checked papers, notes. He found a yellow customs form clearing the arrival of the creates. He doubted whoever signed off had done more than collect the bribe to apply his signature.

  Leaning against the wall on the other side of the desk were a pair of AK-74U short-barreled rifles. Raven picked one up. He checked the chamber. A cartridge sat at the ready. Might come in handy.

  Raven moved to the second desk. More papers.

  Somebody yelled.

  Raven dropped beside the desk. He set his finger on the 74U’s trigger. Somebody found the unlocked second-level door. Footsteps pounded the walkway, growing in volume. Heading for the office. The gunner stepped through the doorway. He turned his head to the right and froze when he saw Raven.

  But he didn’t freeze for long. When he brought up his pistol, Raven fired over the top of the desk. The 74U flashed a tongue of flame and knocked the gunner back against the opposite desk. He tumbled to the floor.

  Shouting below. Raven jumped over the body and ran to the walkway. He fired a second burst over the rail. The men below scattered, yelling all at once. Raven ran. Pistol shots cracked, smacking the wall beside Raven as he ran. He fired a third burst and the 74U clicked empty. He dropped the weapon and ran hard for the door from which he’d entered.

  Crashing through, Raven leaned against the rail and slid toward the ground—much faster than he’d thought. As his feet hit the pavement, one of the doors ahead began to open. Raven turned and slipped under the stairs. Two gunners exited, pistols in hand, their heads turning left and right. They split up. One came toward the stairs. Raven met him and swung a fist into the side of his head. He caught the man as he fell, grabbing his pistol. He hoped this gun worked. The second gunman turned his way. Raven fired. The second man sprouted a third eye between the two he’d been born with.

  Raven sprinted for the empty building next door which now seemed like a million miles away. More gunfire snapped behind him as the last of the four gunners exited the rear.