Read Online Troubleshooters (Jackson Chase Novella Book 2) by Connor Black - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Connor Black
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destinations like Tarangire and the Serengeti, going from the airport we’d left earlier today. Traffic on this road was mostly supply lorries and a few safari outfits taking customers north into Kenya.
The sentries didn’t seem to have a set patrol schedule. We still had only seen two guards, and their intervals were sporadic at best. We were able to see some variances in light and shadow behind whatever blocked the door’s window, which let us know that someone was inside. Problem was, we couldn’t tell if it was a dozen bomb-wearing lunatics or a cat finding a nice place to have a nap.
As I watched, I couldn’t knock the feeling that something was strange about Naseeb picking Chen up. He’d been hired as our fixer, but was oddly unavailable this morning. Then suddenly, he appears and picks up Chen. Why was that?
I voiced as much to Sterba.
“What I want to think,” he said, “is that Naseeb slept through his alarm, had a little action with the missus, and then decided to turn up for work. He sees a message from Dilbert, which is a more attractive proposition than ours, and goes right to her.”
“Mmmm,” I replied, not liking the explanation. Even if it was a more realistic happenstance, fixers are generally in the business for the money. And when money, specifically money from the generous hand of Uncle Sam, is flowing, they tend to err on the side of more attentiveness than less.
Suddenly, the pieces began to come together. I pushed back from the shrubs into the small clearing and withdrew my phone.
Sterba sensed my urgency, but stayed in place. “Jackson?”
“Sterbs, why was Naseeb so fired up at the bakery?” I said over my shoulder.
“Because we found the phone.”
“ He found the phone,” I corrected. “And what stood out about that phone?”
“Well, I think the fact that it was used to trigger a bomb that killed eleven people tends to make it special.”
“We didn’t know that at the time. Think about when you saw it sitting there in the stacks of flour .”
Sterba was silent for a second while he reconstructed the moment in his mind. “Jesus,” he finally said. “It was clean.”
“Exactly. Everything else in that back room was covered with a dusting of flour. Those sacks come in and out all day. They’re opened and poured. Even if the Ashas clean diligently, there will always be a layer of flour dust everywhere.”
“So Naseeb’s carrying the phone used to detonate the bomb. He sees an opportunity at the bakery to throw us off the scent, and plants it as he walks in from the back.”
“Exactly,” I said again as I tapped the green call key on the phone.
Back in Virginia, Landon Clark’s cell phone rang. He picked up on the first ring.
“Jackson,” he said. “How are things going?”
“Fine, Landon. No time for a sitrep now. Can you get me coordinates on Chen’s phone?”
“Yes,” he replied. “Give me ten minutes.”
“Landon, we may not have ten minutes. You gave us agency phones. Can’t you just flip a switch and have her show up on my phone?”
“It’s not that easy, Jackson. There’s a protocol here.”
“Do what you can. Chase out,” I said and closed the line.
Sterba had his field glasses pointing left. “We might not need Landon’s help. Vehicle approaching. Looks like Naseeb’s.”
“Why would Chen have him bring her directly to the target?” I said, more to myself than Sterba.
11
N aseeb’s white Land Cruiser turned into the petrol station at pace and skidded to a stop under the portico. A cloud of dust followed, obscuring the vehicle momentarily. When the dust cleared, Naseeb was outside of the vehicle and opening the back door. He was animated, shouting something we couldn’t quite hear. Finally, he reached in and yanked the passenger out.
It was Chen. Her hands bound, and unstable from the pull, she fell hard to the concrete. He reached down and pulled her up, then immediately raised his hand to strike her across the face.
The sentries didn’t seem to have a set patrol schedule. We still had only seen two guards, and their intervals were sporadic at best. We were able to see some variances in light and shadow behind whatever blocked the door’s window, which let us know that someone was inside. Problem was, we couldn’t tell if it was a dozen bomb-wearing lunatics or a cat finding a nice place to have a nap.
As I watched, I couldn’t knock the feeling that something was strange about Naseeb picking Chen up. He’d been hired as our fixer, but was oddly unavailable this morning. Then suddenly, he appears and picks up Chen. Why was that?
I voiced as much to Sterba.
“What I want to think,” he said, “is that Naseeb slept through his alarm, had a little action with the missus, and then decided to turn up for work. He sees a message from Dilbert, which is a more attractive proposition than ours, and goes right to her.”
“Mmmm,” I replied, not liking the explanation. Even if it was a more realistic happenstance, fixers are generally in the business for the money. And when money, specifically money from the generous hand of Uncle Sam, is flowing, they tend to err on the side of more attentiveness than less.
Suddenly, the pieces began to come together. I pushed back from the shrubs into the small clearing and withdrew my phone.
Sterba sensed my urgency, but stayed in place. “Jackson?”
“Sterbs, why was Naseeb so fired up at the bakery?” I said over my shoulder.
“Because we found the phone.”
“ He found the phone,” I corrected. “And what stood out about that phone?”
“Well, I think the fact that it was used to trigger a bomb that killed eleven people tends to make it special.”
“We didn’t know that at the time. Think about when you saw it sitting there in the stacks of flour .”
Sterba was silent for a second while he reconstructed the moment in his mind. “Jesus,” he finally said. “It was clean.”
“Exactly. Everything else in that back room was covered with a dusting of flour. Those sacks come in and out all day. They’re opened and poured. Even if the Ashas clean diligently, there will always be a layer of flour dust everywhere.”
“So Naseeb’s carrying the phone used to detonate the bomb. He sees an opportunity at the bakery to throw us off the scent, and plants it as he walks in from the back.”
“Exactly,” I said again as I tapped the green call key on the phone.
Back in Virginia, Landon Clark’s cell phone rang. He picked up on the first ring.
“Jackson,” he said. “How are things going?”
“Fine, Landon. No time for a sitrep now. Can you get me coordinates on Chen’s phone?”
“Yes,” he replied. “Give me ten minutes.”
“Landon, we may not have ten minutes. You gave us agency phones. Can’t you just flip a switch and have her show up on my phone?”
“It’s not that easy, Jackson. There’s a protocol here.”
“Do what you can. Chase out,” I said and closed the line.
Sterba had his field glasses pointing left. “We might not need Landon’s help. Vehicle approaching. Looks like Naseeb’s.”
“Why would Chen have him bring her directly to the target?” I said, more to myself than Sterba.
11
N aseeb’s white Land Cruiser turned into the petrol station at pace and skidded to a stop under the portico. A cloud of dust followed, obscuring the vehicle momentarily. When the dust cleared, Naseeb was outside of the vehicle and opening the back door. He was animated, shouting something we couldn’t quite hear. Finally, he reached in and yanked the passenger out.
It was Chen. Her hands bound, and unstable from the pull, she fell hard to the concrete. He reached down and pulled her up, then immediately raised his hand to strike her across the face.
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