Tom Clancy's Ghost Recon: Choke Point (Tom Clancys Ghost Recon) by Telep Peter

Author:Telep, Peter [Telep, Peter]
Language: eng
Format: epub, azw3, mobi
ISBN: 9781405912600
Publisher: Penguin Books Ltd
Published: 2013-05-08T18:30:00+00:00

THIRTY-SIX

‘It could’ve happened to anyone,’ Kozak told 30K as they rushed to repack the weapons pallet and get the forklift back in operation.

Pepper had already jumped behind the controls of the second forklift and was removing a pallet, noting, too, how terrible the traction was while bringing the lift down the truck’s aluminum loading ramp, which buckled under the load.

30K’s lift had started sliding halfway down the ramp, and he’d tried to correct it, but one wrong turn had sent him toppling over the side. His forklift’s tires were bald – perhaps an indication that these guys were doing some serious shipping.

They finished with the pallet, and 30K got back to work, his cheeks still flush with embarrassment.

Once they were finished loading the plane, Pepper squeezed the back of 30K’s neck and said, ‘Driving a forklift. How hard can it be?’

30K wrenched himself free. ‘Yeah, yeah, old man. I’ll keep my day job. Pays better anyway.’

They relieved the FARC guards of their Fadakno uniforms and distributed them based on the nearest sizing. Kozak’s pants were pretty baggy, but he didn’t complain and overtightened the belt. The black ball caps helped conceal their faces.

They shook hands with and thanked Maziq for all his help.

‘Oh, I’m not done with you yet,’ he said with a smile. ‘The ISA never sleeps. So yeah, be safe, guys, and even though none of us exist and everything we did never happened, it was good to work with the old team.’

‘You miss it now, huh?’ Ross asked.

Maziq smiled and raised an index finger. ‘I wouldn’t go that far.’

Kozak climbed into the C-212 with the rest of the team. Four seats attached to the bulkheads were positioned up front, just behind the cockpit, while the rest of the cabin had been stripped for cargo loading. They buckled in, and Ross sat in the copilot’s seat, mentioning how he’d maintained a private pilot’s license for the last ten years. The C-212 was usually operated with a copilot, but Takana said that his employers had preferred he work alone. For now, though, he seemed to welcome the assistance.

They took off without incident, Takana getting clearance from an air traffic controller who was on the group’s payroll. The overbearing hum of the turboprop engines made it impossible to converse without headgear and microphones, so they just mouthed words and gestured to each other. The only electronic communications allowed now would be made by Takana.

Kozak leaned back in his seat and studied some maps of Sudan and the surrounding terrain, part of a map system stored on his tablet computer’s flash drive. Takana had already suggested that Port Sudan was not the weapons’ final destination, and this had Kozak scanning the map and wondering where they were headed and what means of transport would be used.

Once he’d exhausted six or seven proposed routes and his eyes had grown weary of staring at the screen, he glanced over at 30K, eyes slammed shut, mouth open, his snoring almost as loud as the turboprops.

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