Tripoli's Target (Justin Hall # 2)

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Authors: Ethan Jones
Tags: General Fiction
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approaching Land Rover.
    “Is the Rover bulletproof?” Carrie asked with a hint of nervousness in her voice as she looked at Justin. Her pulse was thrumming, her heart pounding in her chest.
    “Relax.” Ali turned around to face Carrie. “They’re not going to shoot us. I’ve got my men on higher ground.” His hand made a circular gesture in the air. “Plus, the prisoner wants to talk to you.”
    Justin nodded. At the same time, he flicked his carbine firing selector to automatic. He cocked the gun and held it firmly in his hands, the barrel slightly raised up, and pointed it to the windshield.
    “I said relax.” Ali’s hand slid instinctively over his AK-47.
    “I am relaxed,” Justin replied. “Have you forgotten?”
    “I must have,” Ali mumbled. “Stop the car there,” he barked at Nassir and pointed to the right, about fifty feet away from the checkpoint.
     
    * * *
     
    Two of the black-clad gunmen marched toward the Land Rover while everyone was getting out of the vehicle.
    “Where are your men?” Justin asked Ali.
    “The guests insisted their guards wait here for you.” Ali stepped around a few rocks barricading any attempt to swerve around the checkpoint. “My men are at the back.”
    Justin peered straight ahead and noticed the entrance to a small cave behind the two BMWs. It was next to a couple of green tents. Ali and Nassir proceeded to meet the guards, with Justin, Carrie, and Omar following a few steps back.
    “The guns,” one of the guards said in Arabic, gesturing toward Justin and Carrie, “they have to give us their guns.”
    Ali turned toward Justin, who kept cradling his carbine in his hands in a semi-alert position.
    “We were summoned here for this meeting, and we’ve satisfied your chief’s request,” Justin replied in Arabic, speaking in a firm voice. “Our guns are for our protection. They guarantee we can also protect anything your chief may give us.”
    The guard was a tall, broad-shouldered man with a short pointy beard. He peered at Justin and asked, “Are you Algerian?”
    “No.” Justin reinforced his denial with a strong headshake. “And I’m not American either.”
    Justin was told by more than one North African his language proficiency showed no traces of local dialects. Maybe he is Algerian, or has friends who are Algerians. People typically explain what they don’t know with what they do.
    The bearded guard kept staring at Justin.
    “We don’t have all day.” Ali waved his hand impatiently.
    The bearded guard flogged Ali with a vicious glare and clenched his teeth. The other guard muttered something in an Arabic dialect unknown to Justin. The bearded guard nodded.
    “This way,” he ordered them gruffly. He raised his hand and gestured for Justin and Carrie to follow him.
    Ali began to lead the way, but the second guard took two steps forward to block him.
    “Your job’s done,” the bearded guard growled at Ali. “They’re ours now.”
    Ali looked like he was pondering a reply for a brief moment but chose not to talk back to the guards. “We’ll wait at the tents,” he said to Justin and Carrie in English. “Don’t worry. My men are looking out for you.”
    “Thanks. We’ll see you there.” Justin exchanged a quick glance with Carrie. Her tiny grin at the left corner of her lips confirmed his suspicions. They were all alone to fend for themselves.
    The bearded guard led Justin and Carrie between the two BMWs. Justin’s eyes rapidly took in the details of the valley. Seven men in black and white robes huddled in front of the cave next to a Toyota truck. Two men were sitting by the tents to the right of the cave. A third BMW, identical to the first two forming the checkpoint, was parked about three hundred feet away from the cave and the tents. It was under the shade cast by the ridge and behind a tall dune, which separated it visually from the rest of the valley. They were led in that direction.
    “Wait here,” the bearded guard

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