13E DEMI-BRIGADE DE LÉGION ÉTRANGÈRE BASE
DJIBOUTI
HORN OF AFRICA
Primo peered out of the right door's porthole as the plane taxied to the open hangar doors.
"It hasn't changed, Laurent. The base, I mean. Are you still training American Marines here?"
The younger Sergent-Chef pointed to the Humvees parked by the side of one of the base buildings. "The Americans are starting to pay attention to the Dark Continent. I think they've started to understand its importance since the Chinese and Indians have been locking up all the key resources vital to any new technologies." He pointed out the right side of the cockpit at several helicopters in a hangar. "They also launch some of their Somali raids from here, but of course it's all hush-hush."
Primo grinned as he shook his head. "They keep chasing Al-Qaeda in Pakistan and Afghanistan and the entire movement grows like a hydra on the east coast here, Indonesia, Philippines and all over the damned globe. It's going to take a shit load more than a few companies of marines or a few drones to stop their growth. It'll take a whole new strategy and set of tactics."
"We have to move the cargo to that plane," Laurent shouted as he throttled the engine before shutting it down. "It was seized from some drug smugglers and is clean for our purposes. Have you contacted Colonel Nobriega to find out where he wants us to deliver these weapons?"
"That lovely place that stirs our nightmares – Kandahar Province, Afghanistan." Primo started untying the cargo net as Laurent shut down the engines and completed his checklist.
"I thought he was in Quetta, Sergeant Major." Laurent squirmed between two seats as Primo opened the door. "We have to move loads in the hangar so that our friends in the sky can't see what we are doing. The major has ensured that this hangar is secured from curious eyes – including the Americans."
Primo jumped down from the craft and ran to a nearby forklift. He started the machine and carefully guided it to the aircraft's door.
"Call it out, Laurent." He inched the machine forward as he raised the lift.
"Left, left. Steady. Three meters. Slow. Stop."
Primo braked the machine and slowly elevated the lift.
"Up. Stop. Down. Stop. Perfect."
The two men quickly moved the canisters of weapons and munitions onto the forklift.
**
An hour later, with their cargo safely stowed in the new unmarked plane, both men waited for the Foreign Legion guards before beginning the long journey to the NCOs mess.
"Christ, I needed that run after sitting in that plane for five hours." Primo turned to the warming trays to see what had been left out by the chefs for the duty NCOs. "Nothing like a good beef bourguignon to prepare me for another four hours in the air."
Neither man noticed that they were being observed by a security contractor at one of the tables.
12 CHARLES STREET
LONDON
"Ronan, it makes no sense. Why would anyone follow us?" Sir William grumbled as he deposited his overcoat into the closet. "Hello, boy." He greeted the Newfoundland dog. "Ronan will take you for a walk so you can attack the big, bad men who were following us."
"William, they are monitoring us to see who we contact and where we are. They certainly don't think we're combatants at our advanced ages. They're just hoping that we're stupid enough to give away something."
DU LIEST GERADE
The Shaddad Conspiracy
Abenteuer“Your murder victim was not an innocent, naive woman. She was on our terrorist watch list. The fact that she escaped from Basra and lived a normal life in London buggers belief, but she was planted here by a foreign government to wreck the Taliban p...
