Zubaran security forces had set up a checkpoint. Two police cars were parked there, along with an army APC, and the road had been funneled down to a single lane in the center. Camouflaged soldiers and blue-suited police officers were stopping each car, checking the occupants. One car had been pulled off to the side to be searched.
This was new. Our antics had been causing the Zubarans some serious problems, but this was the first time we’d run into a random checkpoint.
“It’s the damned curfew!” Wheeler said, looking around anxiously. There was nowhere to turn off. They’d placed the roadblock such that anyone pulling onto the parkway would be committed, and flipping around would bring us right back to the pursuing mobsters.
“They’ve stopped,” Tailor reported from the back. “They see the cops too.” At least Federov’s men weren’t stupid enough to start a gunfight with the police right there, but we were trapped. “We’ve got to go through. Hide your guns.”
They were still searching that one car, and it appeared they only left room enough to search one at a time. We might get through this. Other cars were being waved through with just cursory examinations. But then again, we were a carload of obvious Westerners. Dead Six had provided us all with forged documents for just this contingency, but if the car got searched and they found our weapons, we’d have a serious problem.
“Let me do the talking,” Sarah suggested. She was the only one of us that spoke the language.
Hudson thought about it for a second and then struggled to maneuver his bulk between the seats so Sarah could get up front. It was rather difficult for him, but finally we got Sarah into the passenger’s seat before we were close enough for the troops at the checkpoint to see us.
It took forever for the line of cars to move forward. The soldiers ahead seemed to be as unmotivated as third-world armies normally were on this kind of duty. We had a good chance of breezing right through this. As an added bonus, we’d be long gone before Federov’s men could make it through. There were over a dozen soldiers and cops manning the checkpoint, but only a few of them seemed to be engaged in doing any actual work. The rest stood around shiftlessly, smoking or talking to each other.
Tailor stashed his rifle under a blanket. “Everybody stay calm, but if this goes south, lay down as much fire as you can. Wheeler, drive right between those cop cars and get us the hell out of here. Sarah, your job is to make sure we don’t have to do that? Got it?”
Sarah just nodded. Hudson was sitting on the other side of Asra now, looking really uneasy. He and Wheeler had spent a lot of time manning checkpoints in Iraq, and I figured he’d much rather be on the other side of the roadblock right now. “Wheeler, be cool, man. Just be cool.”
A few minutes later it was our turn. Wheeler rolled his window down as a soldier walked up to the van. The soldier was young, but he seemed like he was on the ball. He kept one hand on the pistol on his belt as he scowled at the carload of Westerners. The back of the van was dark, and had no windows. He didn’t seem to have a flashlight.
The soldier said something. Wheeler just smiled and passed over his papers. Sarah responded in Arabic, but the soldier snapped back at her harshly. He either didn’t like being addressed by someone he wasn’t talking to, or he didn’t like being addressed by a woman. He studied Wheeler’s papers intently, looking for any discrepancies. It was just our luck that we’d found one of the only people in the Middle East who gave a shit about doing a good job. Even better, he spoke English.
“Americans?”
“Yes, sir,” Wheeler responded, cheerful as he could be. “We’re working on the natural-gas pipeline for Zubara National Energy.”
The soldier nodded but seemed suspicious. “What is your business in Ash Shamal? This is a dangerous place for Americans at night.”
Wheeler had already thought of the cover story. “We had to pick up some diagrams at the Ash Shamal branch office. It took longer than expected, and I got lost in the dark.”
The other soldiers were all sitting on their asses, but many of them had rifles close at hand. The cupola on top of the armored car was manned and equipped with a machine gun. The car ahead of us pulled away, giving us a clear shot to freedom. Wheeler’s eyes flicked nervously forward. The young soldier was nodding as he thought about Wheeler’s story.
“Foreign criminals are murdering people in this part of the city. There was a shooting down at the harbor. Do you know anything about that?”
“No, sir,” Wheeler replied cautiously.
“No?” The soldier asked sarcastically, and leaned farther in. Sarah tried to speak to him again, but he ignored her.
“Officer, can’t we—” Wheeler began to speak but stopped as the soldier suddenly yanked out his pistol and stuck it in our driver’s face. “Whoa! Hey, man! Relax!”
“Out of the car!” the soldier shouted. The other soldiers and police officers looked up in confusion. The APC gunner swung the machine gun around so it was pointed at our van.
I didn’t have my own window. I could only see the soldier’s extended gun hand now. More troops appeared behind us, curious at the commotion. They tried to look in through the tinted back windows. Tailor reached under the blanket. Sarah was shouting something in Arabic. The soldier was shouting back at her. Somebody banged something hard against the opposite side of the van. Asra flinched so violently that it made me jump.
Then there was a gunshot.
“Drive!” Tailor shouted. The rear glass shattered as he opened fire through it, killing a soldier. Another gunshot roared through the van. Sarah had pulled her .45 and fired out the driver’s side window, right past Wheeler’s face. I slid the side door open and brought my carbine up even though the stock was still folded. The soldier that had been questioning us was hitting the pavement, a hole between his eyes. I pointed the carbine up at the gunner in the cupola and fired five or six times. The first shots missed but at least one went home, dropping the gunner down into his hatch in a puff of blood. I shifted to the next target, a police officer who was clumsily trying to draw his pistol. Two rounds went through his chest. The soldier next to him was trying to bring his rifle to bear, which had been slung across his back. We began to move as I popped off three more shots. I watched the soldier collapse to the ground as we sped by.
Tailor kept firing at the checkpoint through the back window, forcing the troops to keep their heads down as we made our getaway. He flipped around as I slid my door closed, noticing the blood on the inside of the windshield. “Who’s hit? Wheeler? Sarah?”
“I’m fine!” Sarah shouted.
“I’m okay,” Wheeler hissed, concentrating on the road. “Asshole shot me in the arm.”
Tailor turned back around. “Get us out of here.” He went back to shooting.
Asra had been screaming. I hadn’t heard her over the gunshots. “Shut up!” Hudson bellowed at her as he moved up between the front seats. “Let me drive,” he said. “Let Val look at that, man.”
“I’m okay!” Wheeler snapped. “I’m fine! Let me drive!”
Tailor dropped the empty magazine out of his carbine and looked over his shoulder. “Val, we—” He was cut off as the van swerved violently to the right. Tires squealed, and we were thrown around the cabin.
When I looked back to the front of the van, Sarah was reaching over, holding the steering wheel. Wheeler was slumped forward and wasn’t moving. Just like that, he was gone.
It took us over an hour to get to the safe house, even though it wasn’t all that far from the port. The Zoob had already been in a heightened state of alert because of our exploits and the subsequent spike in terrorist attacks. A shootout at the docks and another at a police checkpoint had put the city on lockdown. We had to go very far out of our way to avoid more checkpoints.
Two vehicles were waiting for us at the safe house. One of them was driven by two of Colonel Hunter’s security men. They grabbed Asra Elnadi and drove off with her before we even got in the door. The other, a van, was driven by Hal and one of the other medics.
