Read Online Tripoli's Target (Justin Hall # 2) by Ethan Jones - Free Book Online
Authors: Ethan Jones
Tags: General Fiction
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unit of the Special Operations Forces, before joining the CIS. Carrie took to heart the motto of her unit: Facta non verba. Deeds, not words. Her hands were itching for some action, but they were still travelling to the meeting point.
A paranoid Nassir had insisted they steer away from the flat, sturdy trail, the common route for crossing the vast ocean of sand. The Land Rovers snaked around rocky cliffs and wandered around sandstone boulders, climbed over gravel dunes and descended into barren valleys. At some point, Carrie thought she could make out the tall ridges of Mountain Jebel Uweinat by the border with Egypt and Libya, but she was not certain whether it was real or simply a mirage.
Justin and Ali were absorbed in a deep discussion of the geopolitical state of affairs in North Africa after the Arab Spring. Nassir seldom threw in his two cents worth, mostly at the expense of “blood-thirsty infidels,” “scumbag Westerners,” and, of course, “the great Devil, America.” According to Nassir, America influenced everything and shaped everyone’s positions in politics. At times, Omar would jump in, usually with a rhetorical question or a not-so-subtle approval of Ali’s opinions.
“Hey, Carrie, what are you thinking about?” Justin asked.
“Are we there yet?”
Justin threw her a sideway glance.
“Five, maybe ten minutes,” Ali replied. “See that cliff there?” He pointed straight ahead to a tall black ridge jutting out of the sandy hills, about a hundred and fifty feet high. “There’s a clearing and a cave right behind it. That’s where we’ve camped.”
Carrie began scanning the sharp rocks for signs of gunmen’s positions. Machine gun muzzles, tips of RPGs, or even a glimpse of a turban flap would give away the men defending the sheikh’s hideout. She felt a certain amount of satisfaction mixed with a hint of concern. The perfect camouflage of Islamic militants and Ali’s men meant their trip to this God-forsaken land would prove to be worthwhile. A sheikh surrounding himself with well-trained fighters definitely held a high rank in the Islamic Fighting Alliance. So he was likely to have access to important and accurate information. But if things went haywire, fighting their way out of this place would be just about impossible.
“How many tribesmen do you have?” Carrie asked.
“Fifteen, including the three of us,” Ali replied. “Everything’s OK. You can trust us.”
Why do they keep repeating we can trust them? Carrie wondered. It’s like they think saying it over and over again will make us believe them.
Nassir steered slowly through a narrow pathway chiseled through the ridge. Steep, serrated rocks rose up on both sides. The rugged trail dropped considerably and the Land Rover crawled almost to a standstill because of uneven stones in the pathway. What a perfect place for an ambush. Her fingers automatically tightened around her rifle. She shifted in her seat and raised the gun toward the left side window, her forehead resting against the vibrating glass. The grayish brown sandstone wall stood less than three feet away. She looked up at a stretch of blue sky framed between the jagged peaks stabbing at the heavens, about sixty feet above their heads.
The Land Rover bounced over a deep crack in the ground. The rear end of the car swerved, almost scraping a couple of overhanging rocks spiking out of the wall. Carrie was able to see a wider view of the surroundings. She spotted the glint of an assault rifle and the banana-shaped magazine of an AK as two gunmen gave away their positions.
“Is this the only way in and out?” Carrie asked.
Nassir nodded slowly.
“Unless you’re a bird,” Ali said.
The trail widened into an oval clearing. Two black BMW Suburban vehicles parked at a V-shape angle had formed a checkpoint. Four black-clad gunmen toting AK assault rifles and RPK machine guns and standing to the sides of the Suburbans focused their complete attention on the
A paranoid Nassir had insisted they steer away from the flat, sturdy trail, the common route for crossing the vast ocean of sand. The Land Rovers snaked around rocky cliffs and wandered around sandstone boulders, climbed over gravel dunes and descended into barren valleys. At some point, Carrie thought she could make out the tall ridges of Mountain Jebel Uweinat by the border with Egypt and Libya, but she was not certain whether it was real or simply a mirage.
Justin and Ali were absorbed in a deep discussion of the geopolitical state of affairs in North Africa after the Arab Spring. Nassir seldom threw in his two cents worth, mostly at the expense of “blood-thirsty infidels,” “scumbag Westerners,” and, of course, “the great Devil, America.” According to Nassir, America influenced everything and shaped everyone’s positions in politics. At times, Omar would jump in, usually with a rhetorical question or a not-so-subtle approval of Ali’s opinions.
“Hey, Carrie, what are you thinking about?” Justin asked.
“Are we there yet?”
Justin threw her a sideway glance.
“Five, maybe ten minutes,” Ali replied. “See that cliff there?” He pointed straight ahead to a tall black ridge jutting out of the sandy hills, about a hundred and fifty feet high. “There’s a clearing and a cave right behind it. That’s where we’ve camped.”
Carrie began scanning the sharp rocks for signs of gunmen’s positions. Machine gun muzzles, tips of RPGs, or even a glimpse of a turban flap would give away the men defending the sheikh’s hideout. She felt a certain amount of satisfaction mixed with a hint of concern. The perfect camouflage of Islamic militants and Ali’s men meant their trip to this God-forsaken land would prove to be worthwhile. A sheikh surrounding himself with well-trained fighters definitely held a high rank in the Islamic Fighting Alliance. So he was likely to have access to important and accurate information. But if things went haywire, fighting their way out of this place would be just about impossible.
“How many tribesmen do you have?” Carrie asked.
“Fifteen, including the three of us,” Ali replied. “Everything’s OK. You can trust us.”
Why do they keep repeating we can trust them? Carrie wondered. It’s like they think saying it over and over again will make us believe them.
Nassir steered slowly through a narrow pathway chiseled through the ridge. Steep, serrated rocks rose up on both sides. The rugged trail dropped considerably and the Land Rover crawled almost to a standstill because of uneven stones in the pathway. What a perfect place for an ambush. Her fingers automatically tightened around her rifle. She shifted in her seat and raised the gun toward the left side window, her forehead resting against the vibrating glass. The grayish brown sandstone wall stood less than three feet away. She looked up at a stretch of blue sky framed between the jagged peaks stabbing at the heavens, about sixty feet above their heads.
The Land Rover bounced over a deep crack in the ground. The rear end of the car swerved, almost scraping a couple of overhanging rocks spiking out of the wall. Carrie was able to see a wider view of the surroundings. She spotted the glint of an assault rifle and the banana-shaped magazine of an AK as two gunmen gave away their positions.
“Is this the only way in and out?” Carrie asked.
Nassir nodded slowly.
“Unless you’re a bird,” Ali said.
The trail widened into an oval clearing. Two black BMW Suburban vehicles parked at a V-shape angle had formed a checkpoint. Four black-clad gunmen toting AK assault rifles and RPK machine guns and standing to the sides of the Suburbans focused their complete attention on the
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