Chapter Six
Greg Jordan was waiting for them when the Hercules C-130J rolled to a stop at the far end of BGW, next to the Grainger Caldwell compound. Standing next to him was Amin, the man Rick knew Greg had chosen as his second-in-command to help keep a tight rein on the locals they’d recruited. Rick had met him on the last trip and was still reserving judgment as to his abilities and his loyalty. He cast an appraising eye over the man as he introduced himself to Mike and Ed, then scanned the silent group of men behind him. Nothing seemed out of whack. Yet.
“We’re all set, guys,” Greg told them, waving in the direction of the warehouse. “Amin and I personally inventoried what’s still in there and moved it to one end to make room for this cargo.”
“Any more thefts?” Rick asked.
“No. Not since the last one. I think it was just kids seeing what they could get away with.”
Rick grunted. “They got away with some pretty expensive equipment. I hope you’ve made plans to keep all this stuff safe. It’s costing Grainger Caldwell a pretty penny.”
“Not to worry. I’m doubling the guards as soon as everything’s offloaded. Tomorrow morning when everyone reports in, we’ll distribute the equipment to each of the groups.” He looked at Ed and Mike. “I don’t know if Rick gave you the layout, but right now GC is working on three projects—one roadway and two substations. They’re pretty much responsible for rewiring the sections of the city still without power. And getting the main highway out of here repaired.”
“So you’ll have three separate security units, each protecting a convoy as it goes out to work?” Mike asked.
Greg nodded. “And standing guard during work hours.”
“We want to avoid any possible ambush on the way out of the airport,” Rick reminded everyone. “I’ve already seen and heard of too many convoys waylaid by suicide bombers with IEDs or shot at, with most of the people killed or badly wounded. They’re lying in wait for us, Greg. We need to be on full alert.”
“No one will touch your people,” Amin said quickly. “The men are trained to provide the necessary protection. I swear it.”
Rick made a rude sound. “Cut the crap, Amin. I’ve seen the people you recruited for this, remember? I can’t believe they miraculously turned into top-drawer guards in a week.”
Greg stepped forward and took Rick’s arm, leading him toward the plane. “We’ll do just fine. The guys you sent over from the States will keep the others in line. Come on. Let’s get this stuff out of the plane. I imagine you guys want to eat, catch a little shuteye, and get the hell out of here.”
Rick stopped walking. “Forget that. We’re here for a week, to make sure nothing goes wrong.”
For a minute Rick thought something indefinable flashed in Greg Jordan’s eyes. Then it was gone, and a grin pasted itself on his face.
“Glad to have you here at the BGW Hilton,” he joked. “Nothing but the finest accommodations, as you know.”
“Good. Fine.”
“You look a little the worse for the wear. What happened?”
“A little accident. Nothing to worry about.” He looked over his shoulder at Mike and Ed, who were watching him carefully, ready to take their lead from him. “Let’s do it.”
With the constant noise of planes landing and taking off in the background, they began to offload the cargo from the plane. The process probably took twice as long as it should have because Rick insisted everyone have a copy of the freight manifest and check each piece as it came off and was stored. Finally everything, including the Humvees, was safely inside the warehouse. Two of Amin’s men rolled the doors closed, and Rick himself set the combination on the lock.
“All right.” He looked at Greg. “Where are the guards for tonight?”
Greg nodded to Amin. “That’s what his men are for. They’ll work in two-man shifts, changing every three hours.”
“What’s wrong with the guys from the States? They too good for this?”
Greg shrugged. “I thought they ought to get a good night’s rest and be fresh tomorrow. The construction crews will finally be starting off to work their gigs, and everyone will have to be on high alert.”
“Wait.” Mike frowned. “You mean no one’s actually been working yet?”
“It’s okay,” Rick told him. “They’ve been going out in small crews, surveying what had to be done and getting their plans together. Security’s been riding with them in borrowed vehicles, using the weapons already here. But now they’re ready to start the heavy work. We’re right on schedule.”
“Okay, Ace. If you say so. But I think one of us should be here with each set of guards tonight.”
“Agreed.” Rick turned to Greg Jordan and saw the rigid set of the man’s face at Mike’s words. “I know you think they can handle this, but it’s our ass on the line if something goes wrong. Let’s not argue about this, okay?”
“Fine by me.” Greg motioned for two of Amin’s men to come forward. “These guys will take the first shift. Who’s going to be their babysitter?”
“I am.” Ed stepped up. “I didn’t do shit except sit in the right-hand seat from the refueling stop. Get me some coffee, and I’m good.”
“This way. I just made a fresh pot.”
Greg waved Amin off and led the three men from Phoenix to the double-wide serving as Grainger Caldwell headquarters. Rick noticed that even in the short time he’d been gone, trim had been added at the bottom, potted trees stood on the porch on either side of the door, and a tall flagpole had been set in concrete just to the side. An American flag flickered in the faint breeze.
“Nice,” he commented.
“I thought we should make a statement here,” Greg told him. “I didn’t want it looking too much like a cut-and-paste operation, but I thought it should at least look presentable. All the other contractors were showing their asses.”
Stepping inside the manufactured home, Ed looked around and let out a soft whistle. “Not bad for temporary quarters.”
“Hey. I expect to be here at least two years. A cot in a monk’s cell didn’t quite do it for me.” He headed into the kitchen and took a large plastic mug with a lid from one of the cupboards. Filling it from the coffeepot, he handed it to Ed. “All yours. Amin will introduce you to the two guys assigned to the first shift. When you get through, come on back in here. There’s food in the fridge.”
“And a place to sleep, I take it.”
“Yeah. There’s one bedroom besides mine and that big couch you saw in the living room. You can fight over who gets what.”
Ed and Rick conferred in a corner for a moment, then Ed checked the clip in both his guns, picked up his coffee, and headed out the door.”
“Now, gentlemen.” Greg rubbed his hands together. “I’ve managed to score some steaks for us, and I’ve got a barbecue set up on the back patio. Shall we have at it?”
Before moving to the kitchen to help Greg, Rick gazed as casually as possible at the papers on Jordan’s desk. What was it he had seen there the last time? If only something would jog his memory, something would stand out, but there was nothing there that he wouldn’t have expected.
Dinner was as relaxed as a meal could be under the circumstances. With guard duty looming for all of them, they kept the liquids nonalcoholic. Finally it was time for Mike to relieve Ed. He took his own coffee traveler and headed out the door.
When Ed stumbled into the trailer, Rick and Greg were sitting in the living room, going over the plans for the next day. Ed looked as if he could barely keep his eyes open.
“Guess my coffee didn’t do much good,” Greg joked.
Rick raked his partner with a critical eye. “You okay?” Ed was obviously exhausted, but the caffeine should have recharged him.
“Yeah. I just can’t seem to shake the fatigue. Maybe we pushed it too much. I’m for bed.”
“Maybe you should eat something first,” Rick urged.
“Yeah, I saved you a steak,” Greg told him.
“I don’t think I could stay awake long enough to eat it. I’m heading for the bedroom. Wake me when you need me.”
“I think I’ll stretch my legs for a while,” Greg said, hoisting himself out of the big armchair. “Maybe wander over to the dorm and see if the usual card game’s going on. Do you want me to take a shift?”
“No. Just catch enough shuteye that you’re alert in the morning.”
Greg laughed. “No problem there.”
Rick watched him go, frowning. He just knew something wasn’t right, but he couldn’t pin down what it was. Tomorrow he needed to reach out to his contact and see whether the man had any more information for him. Setting the alarm on his watch, he stretched out on the couch and willed himself to sleep. He needed whatever rest he could get.
His watch alarm woke him when it was time for shift change.
The first thing he noticed when he left the trailer to relieve Mike was almost complete blackness. The floodlights he’d insisted on setting up around the compound were out.
Shit! Now what?
He checked to make sure his AK-47 was ready to fire, slung it over his shoulder, then pulled his Glock from the small of his back. Standing still for a moment to orient himself to night vision, he started slowly toward the warehouse, moving in a low crouch. Although the big sliding doors were closed, from the far side of the building he heard the rumble of what sounded like large truck engines. Mike was nowhere to be seen, nor were the two GC security guards.
Rick’s stomach knotted, and the tiny hairs on the back of his neck stood up. Still in a half crouch, he made his way to the warehouse, pausing every few seconds to spin slowly around and check behind him. As he moved closer to the building, he noticed a pile of something crumpled at the side door. Approaching it with caution, hoping it wasn’t a disguised IED, he was stunned to realize it was Mike collapsed on the ground, out cold.
“Hey,” he whispered, squatting down next to him. “Mike. Michael. Come on, get up. Snap out of it.”
But Mike’s body was completely limp, devoid of any response. Every nerve in Rick’s body went on full alert. For a moment he debated going back to Ed and waking him, but first he’d see whether he could catch a glimpse of what was going on. And where were the fucking guards?
Pressing himself against the metal wall of the building, he made his way to the corner, the rumbling sound growing louder as he moved closer to it. What he saw made anger boil up in him like scalded water. Six huge convoy trucks, lights off, were idling behind the warehouse at the entrance the construction equipment would use. At least two dozen men were moving quietly in and out of the building, carrying the arms and munitions the C-130J had just delivered.
Swinging his rifle to the ready position and using the wall for protection, he fired a shot into the air.
Everything stopped, a frozen tableau, then the dim bodies swung around to his direction. In the beam from someone’s flashlight, he made out Amin holding a crate of ammunition.
“Amin! What the hell’s going on here?”
Someone started toward him, and Rick fired a shot at his feet. The person stopped where he was.
“Did you hear me? Everyone away from the warehouse. Now.”
From the corner of his right eye, he saw someone open the door to the nearest truck. A rifle cracked, and searing pain tore through his chest. He never heard the second shot as he fell to the ground.