9:12 P.M.
Tucker spied on the meeting between Amur and his trio of compatriots, fellow pirates judging by their tribal scars and harsh manners. They gathered near a rusted stack of old iron H-beams and broken cement bricks. In his ear, he heard their harsh laughter and words spoken in a local Somali dialect. A translation program converted the conversation into a tinny computerized version.
As proof of his word, Amur removed a wad of bills and stripped out several for each.
The others ignored him, counting their bills and stuffing them away.
Another voice spoke in Tucker’s other ear: “At this point, I’ll take rumors.”
That assessment came from Commander Pierce. It seemed the team leader was listening into the feed with as much interest as he was.
A shrug answered him.
Grins followed, shared all around.
“So it seems Amur is not the hospitable host he pretends to be,” Gray said in his ear. “I think we’ll have to-”
The commander’s words were cut off by a low growl.
The view on the small screen shifted as his partner retreated, clearly sensing something.
“What’s your dog doing?” Gray asked, also noting the sudden movement.
“Hold on. Something’s spooked him.”
The grainy image leaped and joggled as the shepherd bounded and circled around a steep pile of concrete debris. It looked like the dog was trying to outflank Amur and his group.
Then the view settled again.
Farther out in the construction zone, a team of six men descended toward Amur’s group. They were outfitted in black body armor and wore helmets equipped with night-vision goggles. At their shoulders, they carried assault rifles. These newcomers were no rough pirates; they clearly had military training. Their intent seemed anything but friendly.
Amur’s inquiries must have reached the wrong ears.
Not good. Not now.
Tucker watched as hand signals from the squad’s leader split the group. They spread out to either side, a pincer move intended to trap Amur’s group between them.
Unfortunately, the former pirate was not the only one caught in the trap. Tucker’s heart thudded in his throat.
6
July 1, 9:15 P.M. East Africa Time
Boosaaso, Somalia
“Stay put!” Gray ordered.
Seichan stood at his shoulder; Kowalski at the other. They had stopped at the mouth of an alleyway, a few blocks from their hotel, observing the feed from the shepherd’s camera. The armored commando team had swept wide, circling Amur’s group, clearly intending to let no one escape.
“Can’t do that, commander,” Captain Wayne responded. “Not until Kane’s out of harm’s way.”
Gray knew there was nothing he could say to stop Tucker. He had no authority over him, and if the man was spotted-or worse, caught-he’d jeopardize the entire mission.
“Then at least wait until I get there,” Gray pressed. “We’ll do this together.”
A long pause followed, long enough for him to worry that the man had already gone.
Then an answer came. “I’ll wait,” Tucker said. “For the moment. But no promises.”
That was as much concession as Gray would get from him.
“I’m on my way,” Gray radioed-then faced the others and pointed down the street. “You two, head to the hotel. Keep the tail chasing after you. Convince them we’ve retired for the night.”
Seichan stepped closer. “You shouldn’t be going alone. You barely know the city.”
He tapped up a street-view map of Boosaaso on his phone. “I’ll manage. Besides, we have no choice. Amur surely has other friends in the city. We need an alibi if he comes to a bad end in that construction yard. We don’t want his murder pinned on us.”
“What’re you going to do?” Seichan asked.
From the corner of an eye, he caught sight of the three-man team sent to tail them. The trio had gathered near a cloth stand, feigning interest in the stacked fabric rolls.
“At the next corner ahead, when we’re momentarily out of sight, I’ll head down a side street. You two rush to the front of the hotel. Let them see you going inside, cause some commotion. Hopefully they’ll believe I’ve already entered.”
From the furrow between Seichan’s eyebrows, she had little confidence in his plan.
He reached for her hand and gave her fingers a quick squeeze. It was a reflex move, more intimate than he intended. “I’ll be fine,” he mumbled.
If nothing else, the brief and surprising contact left her speechless.