Dangerous Alliance, page 6
Soo decided he was hungry after all and wolfed down his fish and noodles.
A shadow drifted over his face. It blocked the sun. For a moment Soo was relieved with the respite from the searing heat.
He glanced up. A man with a scar running along the left side of his chin stood with an older man beside him, also dressed in dark clothing, with a red bandanna covering his head. Both men wore Adidas tennis shoes.
“You must be Ambassador Soo. I am Dacar.” He gestured toward his associate with an open right hand. “This is Tahliil Wardi. He is my leader. He doesn’t speak much English. I will translate.”
Kim stood, Soo following. “I suggest we proceed to the botanical gardens where we might have more privacy.”
Dacar nodded, translated for Tahliil. The Somalis departed, with the Koreans crossing the street and walking a few paces behind through the crowded streets.
Once they reached the gardens and found a secluded area, Soo began the negotiations. “On behalf of the Supreme Leader, we look forward to our joint venture ….” He turned his head, first to the right, then left before lowering his voice. “Our sharing of weapons and oil.”
After Dacar had translated, Tahliil nodded.
“I must amend the agreement you and Kim reached earlier. He didn’t follow my instructions.”
Kim glanced at Soo, his brow knitted in confusion.
“The Supreme Leader wants three oil tankers for each agreed upon load of weapons.” Soo raised his hands as if anticipating a negative reaction to this change. “To show our good faith, we will arrange a delivery wherever you want before you provide a single ship.”
As he listened to the translation, Tahliil stood motionless. By the time Dacar finished speaking, he had dipped his head, smiled, and spoken a few words.
“Tahliil agrees to the change in our agreement, providing the weapons are received within two weeks.”
Soo stuck out his hand. “It will be arranged.”
Dacar shook the offered hand, followed by Tahliil. Kim continued to scan the area, paying little attention to the negotiations.
Further arrangements made, the men departed and appeared to go their separate ways.
Soo beamed as he jabbed Kim with a finger. “I showed them how to negotiate. We obtained what the Supreme Leader wants.”
“Did he suggest a shipload of weapons upfront?”
“Well, no, but it’s my decision. It’s not a shipload—two twenty-foot containers and a dozen military vehicles. I’ll discuss this goodwill payment with the Supreme Leader when we return to Pyongyang.” Soo glanced around. “All this work has made me hungry again.”
They returned to the Lai Lam Food Shop. Kim went inside to place their order, while Soo sat on the same bench as earlier.
Soo closed his eyes and hummed a Korean ballad.
“Psst.”
Soo opened his eyes and stared at a short, stocky man. Darkness descended over Soo as an individual behind the bench shoved a black bag over his head. Despite his struggles, he couldn’t break free. Two quick punches to his head knocked him out.
***
When Kim returned with the food, he scanned the area for Soo. Not finding him, he dropped the food and dashed back and forth, looking in shop fronts and along the shaded paths.
No sign. The ambassador had disappeared.
Kim returned to the bench where he’d left Soo. He sat and pulled his feet back under the seat. Something clattered. He tipped his head to check under the bench—he had kicked a pair of crushed Ray-Ban Aviators, which lay in the shadows. He bent down and picked up the sunglasses—one lens was missing.
Glancing around, something glittered a few feet away in the sunshine. The item causing the sparkle was the missing lens—drops of dried blood streaked the surface.
Kim shoved the pieces in a pocket. Chest heaving with panic, he scurried away. What’s happened to Soo?
Chapter Eight
Naples, Italy
Port Area
Trevor and his team paced the sidewalk outside a metro station in Naples, large backpacks on their shoulders. Commuters shoved past as they streamed in and out of the station. They had rooms booked at the nearby Ponapace Porta Nolana Bed & Breakfast. Merchant seamen stayed there while working in the port or waiting for their next ship to sail.
“Ag, man. These Italians are pushy.” Gerhard lifted his bag out of the way as another pedestrian, running for the metro, shoved the backpack out of his way.
Nate coughed. “Time to move out of here before we suffocate on the diesel fumes from the buses.”
“Let’s find our rooms and check out the harbor.” Trevor set off at a rapid pace. The others followed. They nudged their way through the area, crowded with shoppers and tourists.
A horn blew, warning the team of a tram approaching. They scrambled out of the way and continued to their hotel.
Minutes later, the group hovered around the lobby.
Trevor glanced at his team. “There’s one room with a view. Shall we flip a coin for it?”
“Fine by me.” Nate’s nose twitched in the air. “I’m hungry. I’m going to find out where the aroma is coming from.”
Fergus frowned. “You’re always hungry.”
“I have to feed my metabolism.”
While Nate disappeared around the corner, Trevor won the coin toss.
Nate returned moments later. “No food. It was leftovers from someone sitting in the common room.”
Trevor nodded. “Rooms are sorted. I won the coin toss. You and Fergus have single rooms, while Gerhard will share the remaining room with Pun. Drop your stuff and meet back here as soon as possible.”
Each man reappeared a few minutes later, dressed in jeans, boots, and work shirts, with smaller backpacks, each in a different color, tossed over their shoulders.
The first to arrive, Nate asked the others about their rooms. “Mine has a threadbare carpet on the floor, a lump which is to pass as a pillow and stains everywhere.”
“Ag, what did you expect, the Hilton?”
Everyone laughed as Gerhard took point and led them toward the harbor.
They stopped at a busy sidewalk café across from the port. After ordering coffees and beef sandwiches, Trevor scanned the area before returning his attention to the team.
“I sent a note informing Topaz we’ve arrived. A message waited—slight change of plans. The vessel we planned to sail on is delayed by a week before returning to South Africa.”
Fergus looked at the other tables. No one appeared to be paying any attention to them. “What does this mean for us? Did they find another ship?”
Trevor lowered his voice. “Yes, they did. We’ll be working in the port for about a week aboard the Ventrusco. This one’s also owned by Fiat and is a sister ship to the original. This will work out better for us.”
“Ag. We’ll learn how to act like proper seamen and become familiar with the ship before we cast off.”
At five in the afternoon, a long, shrill whistle blew near the docks where several freighters were berthed. Workers assembled, going through a turnstile to leave the port. The guards stopped some and asked questions, while others strolled past.
Trevor nodded toward the turnstile. “Checks seem random. No consistency in examining what workers are carrying.”
“Ag, man.” Gerhard downed his beer. “The guards appeared bored. Wouldn’t you be?”
“Good point.”
The team ordered another round of drinks as they continued to monitor the workers’ egress. The flow trickled to a few. At last, the guards locked the gate and disappeared into their hut.
“I’m heading back to the B&B for the evening.” Trevor stood. “We have an early start tomorrow.”
“Hey, Trevor. Fergus and I will check out the other side of the port. Catch everyone in the morning.”
***
Dawn broke with the promise of a pleasant day. No clouds lingered. Oranges and reds gave way to a deep azure.
The B&B’s door swung open. Out stepped Bedlam Bravo, dressed in jeans, short-sleeved work shirts, and steel-toed work boots.
“Fergus, did you learn anything last night on your stroll with Nate?” Gerhard laughed and elbowed him.
“I learned it’s better to go without you.” A smirk appeared on Fergus’s face. “We went somewhere with class. You wouldn’t have been allowed in.”
The laughter subsided as the men joined the queue of workers waiting to enter the shipyard. Ahead of them, the guard stopped four men dressed in the same attire.
Fergus nudged Nate. “One of the guys could have been your twin. Must lack your class.”
Nate rolled his eyes and stepped up to the guard.
After he gave a brief glance at their passports and entry authorizations, he waved them through.
The Ventrusco, painted bright orange with a white bridge castle and a green and white funnel, was moored two berths to their left.
The men headed toward the gangway, where the foreman, a burly Italian holding a clipboard, stopped them. He glanced at each one and scratched his right ear.
Nate whispered, “When did Grizzly Adams begin working on freighters?”
“Who’s he?” Fergus asked.
“Grizzly Adams came from California—about the same size as this guy. Adams trained grizzly bears and other wild animals.”
"I thought that was Arnold."
"You're thinking of the former governor." Nate threw out his chest and flexed his biceps.
"What's the difference?"
Nate rolled his eyes.
Trevor stepped up to the foreman. “We were supposed to ship out on another freighter, but it’s been delayed. Our foreman told us to report here.”
“Kohmeh see. Excusi. What are your names?”
They each stepped forward and identified themselves. The foreman found their names and scrawled check marks on his list. “I show you the ship. After, you begin work. Come.” He turned and dashed up the gangway. The team struggled to match his pace.
Two hours later, the foreman, who gave his name as Lorenzo, completed the team’s tour. He fast-marched them through the bridge castle, between stacks of different colored containers on the main deck, into the holds where insulated containers would be placed, and ended at the forecastle.
“You now know way around. If lost, ask. Some help. Luigi will teach how to secure containers.”
Lorenzo walked away as a man resembling a fireplug stepped forward. “Salve. I’m Luigi. You will be on Fabio’s team. First, I’ll teach you about containers and cranes, capisce?”
The men nodded. Pun gazed at the tall crane before turning to Luigi. “I no like heights. Me stay on deck.”
Everyone laughed as Gerhard jostled Pun, almost knocking him over the railing.
“None of you will work the crane. Must be experienced and licensed to do so. But you need to learn how the crane moves in case a container comes loose.”
“Does this occur often?” Nate glanced around the busy ship. Noise levels rose as the workday commenced in earnest.
“No, not often, but it happens.” Luigi slapped Nate on the back. “I’ll show you where to run if it does.”
Throughout the day, the team learned about fittings for the deck and bottom, stacking, and locking. The shift-end whistle signaled welcome relief for their tired muscles.
They removed their hard hats and gloves, tucked them under an arm, and headed to the gangway.
“Salve.” Luigi ran up to them, lanyards swinging from his hand. “Here are your passes. Tomorrow, boarding will be easier for you. A domani.”
“Grazie.” Nate shook Luigi’s hand. “A donimi.”
“No, no, Nate. A domani. It means see you tomorrow.”
“My mistake. Thank you.” Nate joined the others who had made their way ashore. “Luigi appears to be a standup guy.”
“Ag, man. As long as we do as they want, they’ll all be okay. But what will happen when we screw up?”
“Never mind, guys.” Trevor pointed at the café they’d visited the previous day. “Let’s grab a birra and a bite.”
***
The team gathered at an outside table.
Not far away, two men, hidden by a bush-covered trellis at another outdoor restaurant, monitored their activities. One used a pair of binoculars, while the other gazed at them through a camera with a telephoto lens, taking the occasional picture.
“Make sure you have photos of their faces. The boss wants pictures of any possible military men.”
Rooble lowered his camera and turned to Cumar. “I will. They show the mannerisms of the military—short hair and straight-backed. The one with the gray hair and a scar on the side of his head struts as if he commanded a parade ground.”
“I agree. Let’s finish and go.”
Rooble took several more snaps. “I captured all of their faces.”
“Wait—they’re leaving. Should we follow to find out where they’re staying?”
“Yes, I think so.”
Cumar and Rooble strolled a distance behind the five men until they disappeared inside a small building near the Nolana Metro Station.
“Take a picture of the front of the hotel, Rooble.”
***
Nate ruffled the curtains to peer outside. The two men had disappeared. He turned back to the others and gave a thumbs-up. “Coast is clear.”
Trevor gazed at Pun. “Excellent job spotting the tail. We’ll wait a few minutes before returning to the B&B in case they come back.”
Pun nodded at the compliment but he remained silent as usual. He walked to the entrance, tilted his head, and gazed outside.
Certain they weren’t followed, they returned to their accommodations. Trevor bid the others a good evening. “I’ll send an update to Bedlam and catch up on the news. See you in the morning.”
To: Topaz
From: Black
First day on new ship passed without incident. The foreman expected us, so process worked. Picked up tail while at a café near the port—two men, either Somali or Ethiopian. Tall, with slender builds, aquiline noses, and oval faces. Dropped them before reaching B&B. Will continue mission as planned.
Trevor closed his iPad and flicked through the television channels until he found BBC World. He half-listened as he considered the beginning of the mission. No new hijackings noted. Need to keep alert for more surveillance. Are they part of al-Shabaab?
***
No tail in sight, the team boarded the Ventrusco. The foreman, Lorenzo, greeted them like long-time friends. “Buongiorno! Hard work today, capisce?”
They continued up to the deck and weaved their way to the forecastle. Luigi waited for them. With black hair and a short, stocky build, his face appeared to be in a habitual scowl. After sharing greetings, Pun and Gerhard, and Nate and Fergus were paired together, while Trevor joined an Italian worker named Marco. The three teams climbed onto the first layer of containers, waiting for a crane to shift a new one into place so it could be secured.
One after another, new units were lowered, stacked and tied to the ones below and adjacent. The three teams worked in a well-orchestrated manner, each member responsible for specific tasks.
After a fifteen-minute breather, Gerhard and Pun climbed atop the highest container. Grabbing a rope, Gerhard dashed to the edge of their perch, preparing to leap to the next platform to wait for the crane to lower another box. His foot caught in a coiled rope dangling over the side. He slipped over the edge trying to free his foot.
A shadow descended—the crane lowered a new container straight for Gerhard. "Pun! Help! My foot's trapped!"
Pun grabbed a rope, tied it around a stanchion, and jumped. The unit shuddered to a halt in its resting place.
A thick smear of red trickled from beneath the container, oozing down the side. Luigi and several others rushed to the scene. Suspended between containers, two men clung to the rope—Pun and Gerhard.
Several workers maneuvered into position to grab the rope. Brute force lifted the trapped men upward until they scrambled onto the container.
Pun and Gerhard heaved sighs of relief and patted each other on the shoulder. They gained their feet. "Ag, man. I thought this was the end."
"What happened?” Luigi checked the men over for any unseen injuries.
"I jumped to the next container. While I was in the air, someone yanked on a rope. My foot caught on something and I fell. I couldn’t free my foot and yelled for Pun ...." Gerhard sucked in a deep breath of air. "He raced to me and shoved me over the side moments before the crane dropped its load. Someone screamed …."
Nate slapped Gerhard on the back. “Good thing Pun was there to save your sorry hide.”
He nodded and gazed upward. I might have met my Maker—sooner than planned.
"Is everyone accounted for?" Luigi glanced around. "Where's the new guy, Cumar?"
Pun pointed at the smear. "Bad man no more."
***
Once the whistle had blown, the team headed back to the café. After the waiter delivered their drinks and food, Trevor raised his glass. “Here’s to a happy ending instead of a disaster for Gerhard.” Everyone drank before Trevor continued. “Luigi said there would be an accident investigation. Shouldn’t take more than a day or so.” He glanced at Nate. “Let’s eat, I’m hungry.”
Glasses were clinked, tipped back, and drained. Another round appeared. They dug into their food. Conversation ceased until the last plate was cleared.
“Guys, today was a narrow escape. We must remain alert at all times. Tomorrow we’ll find a different café or restaurant to use, away from the docks.”
Everyone nodded, somber expressions etched upon their faces.
“Enjoy the rest of the evening. I’ve a report to send.”
To: Topaz
From: Black
Contact with possible terrorist-related individual, one who might have surveilled the team yesterday. Red and Green escaped serious injury/death while on ship. Suspected culprit died—crushed by a container. Accident investigation will delay ship’s departure. Will advise.
Trevor clicked send, leaned back in the chair, and rubbed the scar by his temple. Where’s the other guy? Will he reappear or will another accident happen?
