Dead Six

most of them weren’t eager to go off and die for the jihad.

That was, of course, until General Al Sabah started using his connections to equip and train the locals. He was slowly building a small army in Ash Shamal. They were, at best, poorly trained rabble, little more than cannon fodder. But we believed Al Sabah was going to make a move on the emir soon, and he’d need all of the help he could get.

Facilitating these jihadi militias was one Anatoly Federov, the Russian arms dealer Hunter had briefed me about. He supplied them with brand-new hardware from Russia and advisers on how to use the equipment. Al Sabah, in turn, promised to be a very powerful friend to Federov when he managed to overthrow the emir.

Dead Six had no intention of letting that happen. From what I’d heard, we had plans to kill both Federov and General Al Sabah himself. One thing at a time, though. In order to kill someone, you have to find them, and find a way to get to them. Powerful people surrounded by many heavily armed friends are notoriously difficult to get to, for obvious reasons.

That is, unless the powerful person’s disgruntled business partner decides to cut a deal with the people gunning for him in order to save her own ass.

Enter one Asra Elnadi. According to our information, Ms. Elnadi was an Egyptian-born businesswoman who had been educated in Paris. We didn’t know a lot about her history beyond that. We did know that for a few years she had been the business partner and lover of Jalal Hosani. Yet something went wrong, and Asra left Hosani in order to team up with Federov, taking a bunch of his business contacts with her. Federov became a major player in the Gulf; Hosani’s business stagnated, and he went from being a rising-star arms broker to a second-rate gunrunner.

Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned, or so goes the ancient cliche. Project Heartbreaker had brought a different kind of hell to Zubara, and people like Asra were scattering like cockroaches. Normally you step on the roaches as they run, but occasionally you make a deal with one to get to another, more powerful cockroach.

Okay, that analogy kind of fell apart, but you know what I meant. Through some unknown—to me, at least— back channel, Ms. Elnadi had managed to contact Dead Six and offered to squeal. She was afraid of us, sure, but she was more afraid of her current boyfriend. There was only one problem: despite her expensive European education and status as an international businesswoman of ill repute, Ms. Elnadi didn’t speak English. Furthermore, she had an intense distrust of men and apparently insisted on meeting face-to-face with a woman, one who spoke either Arabic or French.

The result of all this skullduggery and intrigue was that I found myself driving across town in a nondescript Toyota Land Cruiser, sitting next to Sarah McAllister in awkward silence.

We were taking two vehicles. Sarah and I were riding in the Land Cruiser, and would be the ones to actually make contact with Asra Elnadi. Tailor, Hudson, and Wheeler were following us in a van. The plan was for them to hang back until we arrived at the meeting, then fan out and provide overwatch as best they could. Asra wouldn’t be expecting Sarah to arrive alone, but we feared that too much of a show of force would spook her. If we lost her, we’d probably never find Hosani or Federov. If all went well, the only people she’d actually see would be Sarah and me.

“Shafter, Nightcrawler, radio check,” I said, squeezing the transmit button as I talked.

“Loud and clear,” Hudson replied.

“We’re almost there,” I said to Sarah, keeping my eyes on the road. I was tense, and not just because I was uncomfortable being around Sarah. Keeping a low profile for the mission meant that I’d be alone, at least for a short time, if things went south. It also meant that instead of wearing full battle rattle and carrying a rifle, I was in street clothes and a wearing a low-profile vest with thinner plates and less coverage. In a big backpack in the backseat was my FN Mk. 17 7.62x51mm carbine. With the short thirteen-inch barrel fitted and the stock folded, it could be concealed in a pack with a couple of spare magazines.

Sarah had barely said anything to me the entire trip. She wasn’t enjoying the ride any more than I was, but we had a mission to complete. We were both trying really hard to be professional.

“Are you armed?” I asked as I maneuvered the Land Cruiser through a roundabout.

Sarah seemed surprised by the question. “They gave me a forty-five.” Sarah, like me, was wearing an untucked, short-sleeved shirt over her T-shirt and body armor to conceal her weapon.

“Okay,” I said. “If the shit hits the fan, fall back to the truck and let me cover you. If I get hit, get in the truck and leave without me.”

She was quiet for a moment. “Mike, you don’t have to.”

“Yes, I do. You’re a mission-essential asset. It’s my job to get you in and out of there alive. If it gets bad, you grab our target and get her out. If you can’t do that, leave her with me and get yourself out. This is how it works. Okay?” She briefly looked like she was going to argue with me, but simply nodded.

Asra Elnadi insisted that we meet in a freight yard near the Ash Shamal docks. She told us that she’d be coming alone. This simplified things for us a little, as we’d only have one person to exfiltrate. Nothing complicates a simple extraction mission more than the would-be extractee showing up with an entourage of friends and family.

Using a GPS unit in the truck, I navigated my way through a labyrinthine maze of old warehouses and stacked shipping containers. The Ash Shamal docks were one of the busiest ports in the Persian Gulf, and the surrounding facilities were huge. They were also uncontrolled. There were no fences, no cameras, no access control points, and as near as I could tell, no security. The harbor police occasionally did patrols through the docks at night, but those patrols had fallen off as violence had risen in the district. The police in the Zoob were probably either sympathetic to General Al Sabah’s fermenting revolution or didn’t want to get killed in it.

It was just after midnight when we finally arrived at the predetermined meeting point. It was a large, open area surrounded by walls of shipping containers stacked four and five high. There were a couple of small buildings and a long, metal sunshade, under which dozens of forklifts and utility vehicles were parked. Along the rear of this concrete pad was a massive warehouse. The area was dark, save for lights on the front of each of the buildings.

I killed the headlights as we slowly rolled into the open, noticing an Audi sedan parked between two forklifts. “Xbox, Nightcrawler, I think I have eyes on the package. Where are you?”

“We’re almost in position,” Tailor replied. “Okay,” he said after a few moments. “I can see you.”

“Where are you?”

“I’m on top of a stack of conex boxes to the south of you. Gotcha covered, nice and quiet.” This meant that Tailor was providing overwatch with a suppressed rifle. It was too dark for me to see where he was, but from on top of any of the stacks of containers he’d have a commanding view of the area, especially using the thermal scope Frank had pulled out of the armory.

“Nightcrawler, Shafter,” Hudson said. “We’re just around the corner. We can be on top of you in a couple seconds.”

“Roger that,” I said as I got out of the truck.

I looked over at Sarah. “You ready?” She nodded again, not looking at me. I reached into my pocket and took out a flashlight. I flashed it at the Audi three times, paused for a few seconds, then flashed it a fourth time. The Audi’s headlights flashed back at me five times. The dome light came on briefly as the driver’s door opened. A slender female figure climbed out of the car and closed the door behind her.

Sarah and I approached slowly. I stayed a few paces behind Sarah and scanned the area. Even though I had Tailor watching me and some backup, something was bothering me. I felt vulnerable.

“Stay here,” Sarah said. “I’m going to go talk to her.” She then keyed her own radio microphone. “Xbox, I’m making contact with the package now.”

I waited for him to acknowledge Sarah before speaking. “If this takes too long, I’m going to grab her and throw her in the truck. If she tries to get back in her car, draw down on her.”

Sarah looked a question at me. “Hunter’s orders,” I said. “She’s coming with us whether she likes it or not. I was told to shoot her if she tries to run. So you need to make sure she understands that the only way she’s getting out of this alive is if she does what you tell her. If she gets cold feet, I’ll put a slug through her. If I don’t, Tailor will. Clear?”