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Authors: Connor Black
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the straggler.”
After ten minutes or so, we found a small, flat patch that gave us visibility to the petrol station across the road. We settled in, slowly adjusting branches to make sure we were adequately concealed. We lay prone next to one another, each with a pair of field glasses, scanning the petrol station and main road.
“I don’t have anything, Joe,” I said after several minutes.
“Give it a little time.”
The station was of average size, with three bays for the workshop, all of which were closed. What must have been the cashier’s office was attached to the right side of the building, and had only a door. Some sort of sheet, or perhaps paper, covered the window in the top half of the door.
I scanned from left to right, studying the station. The fence surrounding the property had largely fallen down, allowing for some entry and egress points on foot. There appeared to be space behind the station which would have allowed vehicles to enter the workshop bays from either side of the structure. Out front, the pumps had been removed, but a large portico and the concrete pad below remained.
The surrounding area, where customers once pulled in to check the air in their tires before embarking on safari, was packed dirt. And while the scattered sprigs of weeds announced the station as well past its time, there appeared to be some recent tire marks.
As I was scanning, a shape appeared on the flat roof.
“Contact. Roof, left side,” I said.
Sterba shifted to look as the figure approached the edge of the roof. It was a man, holding what looked like an AK-47. The roof was recessed slightly, so the edges of the building formed a solid railing and only allowed us to see him from the stomach up, but it was enough.
The sentry came to the edge and scanned the road. He adjusted slightly, leaning over to check the immediate grounds. It was clear the portico below him was a problem.
“The pad under the portico is his blind spot. He doesn’t have the angle to see directly underneath,” I said.
“No. But he does,” Sterba said, pointing out a new sentry. “Right side. Low.”
I moved to glass the lower right side of the building and saw the shadow of another guard rounding the building. The silhouette of a barrel was clearly visible above his shoulder.
“OK, this is the location we’ve been looking for. Notify Kahembe, and I will update Dilbert.”
“Wilco,” Sterba said, pulling out his phone to contact the Lieutenant.
I took a quick scan from left to right and then brought out my phone to call Chen. There was a message from her on the screen. Naseeb on his way to pick me up and take me to the police station. Keep me updated on your progress.
I called, and after a few rings was sent to voicemail. I tried once again with the same result. Sterba did get through, and I heard the tail end of his conversation before he closed the line.
“Kahembe will be notified that we’ve found a possible location for the bombers. I’ve asked that they come in quietly from the west, and notify us when they’re ten minutes out.”
“No answer from Chen,” I said, considering this a moment as there was no reason for a member of the team to go off comms. I tried Naseeb, as we had periodically throughout the morning. Again, there was no answer.
“Nothing from Naseeb either,” I said. Collecting my thoughts, I made a decision. “Police are on the way. Naseeb is giving Chen a ride back to the police station, and she’s only been off comms for a few minutes. The threat here is our priority. We stay, observe, and collect as much information as we can on the objective.”
Sterba remained prone, his field glasses on the petrol station as he replied, “Roger.”
We settled into a routine, scanning and calling out movement. The dirt road between our position and the petrol station was the northern lesser used of the two main roads west of Arusha. Most of the tour groups used the road just south of us to reach
After ten minutes or so, we found a small, flat patch that gave us visibility to the petrol station across the road. We settled in, slowly adjusting branches to make sure we were adequately concealed. We lay prone next to one another, each with a pair of field glasses, scanning the petrol station and main road.
“I don’t have anything, Joe,” I said after several minutes.
“Give it a little time.”
The station was of average size, with three bays for the workshop, all of which were closed. What must have been the cashier’s office was attached to the right side of the building, and had only a door. Some sort of sheet, or perhaps paper, covered the window in the top half of the door.
I scanned from left to right, studying the station. The fence surrounding the property had largely fallen down, allowing for some entry and egress points on foot. There appeared to be space behind the station which would have allowed vehicles to enter the workshop bays from either side of the structure. Out front, the pumps had been removed, but a large portico and the concrete pad below remained.
The surrounding area, where customers once pulled in to check the air in their tires before embarking on safari, was packed dirt. And while the scattered sprigs of weeds announced the station as well past its time, there appeared to be some recent tire marks.
As I was scanning, a shape appeared on the flat roof.
“Contact. Roof, left side,” I said.
Sterba shifted to look as the figure approached the edge of the roof. It was a man, holding what looked like an AK-47. The roof was recessed slightly, so the edges of the building formed a solid railing and only allowed us to see him from the stomach up, but it was enough.
The sentry came to the edge and scanned the road. He adjusted slightly, leaning over to check the immediate grounds. It was clear the portico below him was a problem.
“The pad under the portico is his blind spot. He doesn’t have the angle to see directly underneath,” I said.
“No. But he does,” Sterba said, pointing out a new sentry. “Right side. Low.”
I moved to glass the lower right side of the building and saw the shadow of another guard rounding the building. The silhouette of a barrel was clearly visible above his shoulder.
“OK, this is the location we’ve been looking for. Notify Kahembe, and I will update Dilbert.”
“Wilco,” Sterba said, pulling out his phone to contact the Lieutenant.
I took a quick scan from left to right and then brought out my phone to call Chen. There was a message from her on the screen. Naseeb on his way to pick me up and take me to the police station. Keep me updated on your progress.
I called, and after a few rings was sent to voicemail. I tried once again with the same result. Sterba did get through, and I heard the tail end of his conversation before he closed the line.
“Kahembe will be notified that we’ve found a possible location for the bombers. I’ve asked that they come in quietly from the west, and notify us when they’re ten minutes out.”
“No answer from Chen,” I said, considering this a moment as there was no reason for a member of the team to go off comms. I tried Naseeb, as we had periodically throughout the morning. Again, there was no answer.
“Nothing from Naseeb either,” I said. Collecting my thoughts, I made a decision. “Police are on the way. Naseeb is giving Chen a ride back to the police station, and she’s only been off comms for a few minutes. The threat here is our priority. We stay, observe, and collect as much information as we can on the objective.”
Sterba remained prone, his field glasses on the petrol station as he replied, “Roger.”
We settled into a routine, scanning and calling out movement. The dirt road between our position and the petrol station was the northern lesser used of the two main roads west of Arusha. Most of the tour groups used the road just south of us to reach
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