Cargo: A Leine Basso Thriller (12 page)

“Any lights?”

“None that I can think of.”

“Good. I’ll climb onto the roof, see if I can take out the shooter in front, then come at the guy in back.”

“It’s gonna be slick.” The wind outside howled as if to punctuate his words.

“Tile?”

“Composite. Only looks like tile, but bad enough.”

“I’ll just have to contend with the wind and driving rain, right?” Leine scanned the closet. She spotted a dark-blue windbreaker and reached for it. She turned to Derek. “You mind if I take this?”

He shook his head. “Be my guest. The bottom half’s behind it.” He picked up the canvas bag and slung a second rifle and both MP5s over his shoulder. “I’ll run a torch near the windows in a couple of the rooms at the other end to get the shooter’s attention. Should give you enough time to set up.”

“Good. Give me a few minutes before you start to work your way to the Rover. I’ll need you to draw the guy out. He’ll give away his position when he shoots. Should be easy to spot with the scope.”

“Yeh. Easy.” Derek shook his head. “Like I said, I’m not comfortable being prey.”

“Consider it a training exercise.”

Leine shrugged into the windbreaker and pants, slung the rifle over her shoulder, and moved to the master bedroom. She slipped the hood over her head and opened the glass door, ignoring the wind and driving rain.

No fire came
at her from either direction. Leine assumed the shooter wasn’t covering her side of the house. The acacia tree was as large as Derek had said and obscured the view from the front. The rear of the house hid the balcony from most of the backyard. She slung the M21 over her shoulder and climbed onto the railing, then turned and faced the house, leaning her head back to gauge the distance to the edge of the roof.

A burst of gunfire erupted near the front, followed by the sound of Derek returning fire from an upstairs window. She flexed her legs and jumped, hooking both hands onto the edge of the eaves, her lower body dangling in space. Derek had been right about how slick it would be. She lost her grip with her right hand and for one heart-stopping moment thought she was going to fall.

Leine managed to grasp the edge of the roof with her fingertips, securing her position. She kicked until she was able to hook her heel over the eaves and then pulled herself up and over. Lightning pulsed overhead, followed a few seconds later by the deep rumble of thunder.

Pausing to take a breath, Leine worked to slow her galloping heart. Sporadic gunfire continued in the front, blending with the thunder. She lifted her head and scanned the area. The roof had three sections. The left and right sides jutted out like wings, giving her good cover from a majority of the backyard, although she would be exposed, briefly, when she moved into position.

With a deep inhale, she low-crawled to the apex of the roof, expecting to feel the hot bite of a bullet with each meter gained, or, alternatively, the hair-raising buzz and crack of a lightning strike. The storm hadn’t yet washed away the dirt and dust on Derek’s roof. The resulting slurry made progress even more challenging.

She reached the top and removed the rifle, then released the bipod, setting it up so only the tip of the barrel cleared the roofline. She lay on her stomach, flipped up the front and rear dust covers on the scope and sighted on the house across the street. Her body relaxed into the most efficient position naturally, as though it hadn’t been years since she’d done this. Muscle memory was a powerful thing, especially after spending hours upon hours learning a specific weapon.

Part of her missed the familiarity. This was something she was good at.

Leine scanned the area across the street through the night scope, pausing at the positions she might have chosen, but didn’t notice anything out of the ordinary. She wondered where the police were, or if anyone had called them. The neighbors had probably confused the crack of gunfire with the sound of the storm.

She kept coming back to a dark area near the house across the street. All she could make out at first were two garbage bins. She scanned the bushes next to them.

A shadow near one of the bins moved. A man in a dark shirt and pants broke away from the house and headed across the street in a crouch, a machine gun in both hands.

Leine inhaled and seated her cheek securely against the pad on the butt stock of the gun. Sighting just above his shoulders, she released her breath and squeezed the trigger. The man’s head snapped back, and he dropped where he stood.

One down, one to go.

Leine closed the dust covers on the scope and rolled onto her back, taking the rifle with her. She pitched forward and headed for the section of roof over the entryway at the back of the house. The rain was falling harder now and obscuring her view. Traversing the muddy, synthetic tiles in heavy wind was an exercise in balance and calculation. Purported to be all-terrain, she doubted the manufacturers of her footwear had this particular scenario in mind when they wrote the advertising copy. She stopped to assess her position but at that moment a strong gust of wind pushed through and she lost her footing, landing with a thud on the rifle stock.

She picked herself up and slung the weapon back into place, wondering how badly the fall had screwed with the rifle’s accuracy but unable to stop to find out. In minutes, Derek would be a target.

If he wasn’t already.

Leine dropped to her belly and crawled to the tip of the roof closest to the back entrance. She set up, wiped the rain off the scope and peered through the downpour, searching for the second gunman.

Nothing.

This time she didn’t have a feeling one way or another. There were only a couple of positions she would have taken if she were the shooter, and there wasn’t anyone visible in either.

Had he gone into the house? Was Derek inside, right now, fighting the second shooter? She listened for gunfire below her but heard nothing. Leine continued to scan the area, searching for some kind of tell.

There
.

She tracked back across the alley to the roof of the neighbor’s garage, where she noticed a pile of palm fronds fluttering in the wind. Several palm trees surrounded the home, so the debris wasn’t unusual. Leine stared through the scope as the rain beat a monotonous chorus on her windbreaker. The wind howled through, whipping at the trees. Shadows danced across the roof, messing with her view.

She had just wiped the rain off her face and was about to clear the scope again when she caught movement in the pile of vegetation. She tightened her focus and zoomed in. Nestled in the chaotic pattern of fronds was a perfect circle, similar in size to the circumference of a rifle barrel.

Leine’s finger hovered near the trigger, waiting for the gunman to move, wishing she and Derek had taken the time to grab radios.

She assumed the shooter wasn’t paying attention to the roofline, or that little circle would have been pointed at her instead of trained on the back door.

All she had to do was wait, and hope neither of the two gunmen had called in reinforcements.

A few minutes later, the fronds moved again.

Derek must be in view.

Leine released her breath and waited, finger slowly taking up slack on the trigger until it was tight.

The palm fronds levitated, like something was pushing them up from underneath. Leine sighted in and watched the mass of leaves transform into a man’s face, partially obscured behind a scope.

She fired. The rifle was off and the bullet clipped a tile next to him. The man dropped to the roof.

Cursing under her breath, Leine corrected her aim and fired. At the same instant a flash erupted from the other man’s rifle. A tile exploded in front of her, hurling bits of composite into her face.

Heart racing, Leine sighted again, but a bright light erupted from the back of the house near the shooter. A man’s silhouette appeared in the doorway.

“What’s going on out there?” the man shouted.

The shooter swiveled toward the man, leaving himself open for an instant. Leine took the shot. The gunman slumped forward onto the roof.

“
Shit.
Margery—
get back inside
. Someone’s fucking shooting
out here,” the man yelled and slammed the door closed.

Leine sighed with relief. She waited a beat, expecting return fire, making sure the shooter didn’t move.

Nothing.

“Derek?” Leine called out, the wind and rain stealing her words. “Derek?” she called again, this time louder.

No answer. Was he hurt?

Leine closed the dust covers and inched backward, taking the rifle with her as she made her way to the balcony side of the house. She collapsed the bipod and slung the M21 over her shoulder before climbing down to the master bedroom. Then she sprinted along the hallway to the stairs and descended, taking two at a time, headed for the back door.

Easing the bullet-riddled door open, she followed the wall until she could make out Derek’s dark form crouching near the Rover.

He was all right. Leine relaxed her grip on the gun and made her way over to him.

“Any movement?” she asked.

“None that I could see.” He handed her a pair of night vision binoculars. Leine took them and scanned the roofline of the neighbor’s carport and surrounding area. She didn’t see anything.

“We’d better get out of here,” Derek said. “Jim and Margery aren’t going to let this slide. Won’t be long until the police are crawling all over the place.”

Leine helped him stow the weapons and ammunition in a false compartment under the cargo area and then jogged through the pouring rain to open the gate. Derek drove through, and she closed it behind him, replacing the padlock. She climbed into the passenger seat and they sped away.

Derek didn’t turn
on the lights until he was well clear of the alley. He didn’t say anything as he drove. The adrenaline began its slow retreat from Leine’s system, leaving her drained. Derek appeared to be exhausted, too, so she relaxed back in her seat and watched the storm rage on through the steady beat of the windshield wipers.

They drove past neighborhoods and small community markets, all shuttered against the storm. Not a soul walked the streets. A cardboard box flew out of nowhere, smacking the windshield and whipping up and over the roof.

Soon the terrain shifted to just plain dark, uninterrupted by streetlamps or the glowing windows of houses or storefronts. She assumed they were traveling through the countryside now and wouldn’t encounter a large city for several kilometers. 

They drove in silence for the better part of two hours. Leine couldn’t help dozing off and on. When she woke, she checked the odometer. They’d covered half the normal distance. The Rover’s headlights illuminated barely a meter in front of them; sheets of rain obscured anything beyond that. The road was fast becoming a river, but Derek seemed unconcerned.

“Would you like me to take over? You’ve been at it for quite a while.”

“No,” came the short reply.

“Do you think we should stop somewhere until the storm blows over?” Leine didn’t want to end up buried to their axles in mud, having to dig out after the storm.

Derek didn’t answer.

Leine fell silent, wondering if he was having a hard time concentrating. She sensed an undercurrent that hadn’t been there before, and tried again.

“Is something wrong?”

Dodging a tree branch, Derek turned onto a road riddled with potholes. He shook his head. “I was thinking that it’s a damned shame I’ll never be welcome in that neighborhood again. I sure as hell can’t go back. Not anytime soon.”

“Do you think Wang’s going to continue to watch your place?” she asked.

Derek shrugged. “Don’t know. Maybe. That isn’t what I’m worried about. My neighbors prefer peace and quiet. Cocktails at seven and dinner parties on Friday.” He hit the steering wheel. “Damn. I worked hard to make myself into an upstanding member of society. Now I’m
fucked.”

“I’m going to ignore the obvious irony here, and just suggest that you live somewhere else where no one knows you. Like I said, I can make sure you’re able to go anywhere you want, within reason.” Leine leaned her head back. “Besides, that kind of lifestyle sounds awfully boring if you ask me. Especially in light of what you’ve done for a living.”

“You don’t get it.” He glanced at Leine. “I can’t leave. Africa’s in my blood. It’s my home. What else am I supposed to do?”

“How about import-export? Remember your invitation to go into business together?”

Derek gave her a lopsided smile. “Yeh, I didn’t really expect you to go for it. It was just an idea to pass the time.”

Leine raised an eyebrow. “You mean you weren’t serious about Derek and Claire’s Fabric Emporium? I’m devastated.”

“
Ja, ja.
Devastated,” he said, grinning. “That’s a good one.” He glanced at her and shrugged, then looked out the windshield. “It’s hard to imagine myself anywhere else.”

“Africa’s a big place. Why not cross into Kenya or Botswana? With your knowledge you’d make a great addition to a safari company.”

“Yeh. Maybe….” His voice trailed off. “What if I talk to your boss? He obviously has reach. I don’t know many people who can work up a passport as fine as yours in twenty-four hours.”

“I wouldn’t really call him my boss. We used to work together in another lifetime. He still has the contacts he established back then. Comes in handy with the work we do.”

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you and he were members of a criminal enterprise.” Derek said, watching her for a reaction.

Leine smiled. “Some people might feel that way, but technically, no. We were legit.” She didn’t tell him the jobs the agency and its operatives were involved in often stretched the definition of lawful and reasonable.

Often? Hell, most of the time.

“Hmm. Well now, that sounds mysterious enough to warrant further discussion—”

Derek’s words died in his throat as he slammed on the brakes and steered hard to the right. The Rover skidded to a stop.

“Shit.”

The headlights cut through the driving rain and dropped off, illuminating a large swath of swift-moving water streaming over the road.

“How deep?” Leine asked, eyeing the mud-filled chasm between them and the rest of the road.

“A meter, maybe more.” Derek squinted at the water. “It’s the ‘maybe more’ that worries me. We could be digging out in Kenya in the morning.” The joke did little to lighten the mood.

Derek shifted into low gear and inched forward, frowning in concentration. Leine gripped the door handle and craned her neck to look out the side window. The muddy water rose first to mid-wheel and then fanned out over the tire as they moved forward into the washout. She scanned the floorboards for seepage as Derek pushed through the deepest part.

“Are you sure we’re going to make it?” Leine asked.

“Of course we’ll make it. I modified this beast a while back for such occasions. She’s been through a lot worse.”

Derek’s bravado had a hollow ring, but Leine bit her tongue and held on.

Midway across the impromptu river, the back end of the Rover skidded to the right. Leine caught her breath as the rear wheel slid into a void with a loud
thunk
. Derek ignored it and gunned the gas, forcing the four-wheel-drive forward, and then back, spinning the wheels and trying to rock the vehicle. The water rushed past, splashing Leine’s window. On the third try, Derek punched the accelerator. The Rover rocketed out of the hole, climbing out of the water and onto the other side.

Derek drove a safe distance away and parked.

“Haven’t failed me yet, have you girl?” Derek said, patting the Rover’s dash.

“Good job.” Leine looked back at the ruined roadway. “How long do these downpours usually last?”

Derek shrugged. “They’re normally just a squall. It’ll be blue skies and sunny days tomorrow, I’ll wager.”

Clearly covered in mud, the headlights projected a weak beam maybe a foot in front of the grill. Derek reached into the backseat to retrieve a hooded raincoat and shrugged it on.

“Hand me that, would you?” he said, pointing to a dirty T-shirt on the floor by Leine’s feet. She gave it to him and he got out, proceeding to the front of the vehicle. Still wearing the slicker he’d lent her earlier, Leine tore off several paper towels from a roll in the backseat and joined him, cleaning the lenses as well as she could. Derek inspected the undercarriage for damage and, finding none, they climbed back into the Rover and continued on.

“You asked me earlier where we’d be stopping,” Derek began. “That’s up to you. In good weather, the drive to where Wang likes to set up his traveling sideshow takes about nineteen hours from Dar—nine hours to Arusha, and then about ten more after that. Now, we can bust our asses to make it there by tomorrow night, which, by the looks of that wash doesn’t seem likely, or, we can drive until we’re tired, camp for the night, and resume our trip in the morning. Up to you.”

“I’d like to get as far as possible,” Leine replied, “but you know the terrain. I defer to your judgement.”

Derek’s eyebrows shot up. “I didn’t expect that answer from you.”

“I know when I’m out of my element. It’s called being prudent.”

Derek let out a chuckle. “Well, I’m not known for being much of
that
.”

“I gathered.” Leine closed her eyes and sighed, wondering if it was too late to attempt finding Wang’s camp on her own.