Untouchable (Alex King Book 17) by A P BATEMAN

Author:A P BATEMAN [BATEMAN, A P]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Rockhopper Publishing
Published: 2023-08-01T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Thirty

Two Weeks Later,

Casablanca, Morocco

Jack Luger looked like just about every other tourist in the city. Cargo shorts, a collarless shirt and sunglasses. He drew the line at sandals but wore a pair of well-worn boat shoes without socks. He was seated askew to a small, round table so that he could get the full warmth of the sun, and with his leg crossed in a masculine manner, he leaned back confidently watching the golden hue of sunlight on the choppy Atlantic Ocean. He sipped strong, black coffee and occasionally helped himself to mini baclava dusted with powdered sugar that had melted to a sticky syrup in the sun. Gloriously indulgent.

At the seafront wall, two men each teased two pairs of cobras that hissed and struck at their tormentors, fascinated tourists whooping in fear and delight, dropping coins on a blanket as they watched and filmed and tried for selfies with the snakes in the background. The snakes were large and fast, but the men had the routine down pat, and Luger wondered whether the reptiles had been milked of their highly toxic venom, or de-fanged altogether. Ahmadi was seated at the next café with his wife and son. The couple shared sweet tea while the boy drank a bottle of local cola that had copied the Coca-Cola branding, but from where Luger was sitting, the Arabic writing looked like the word Isis. He knew it didn’t, but it didn’t give off the best vibe to the casual and uninitiated spectator.

Leaning on the seawall a large bodyguard did his best to look inconspicuous. Luger could see a large bulge under the man’s armpit and rather than a pistol, he suspected a mini-machinegun like a MAC-10 or a Mini-Uzi. A lot of firepower up close. At the next table two more bodyguards sipped glasses of iced water and parked on the road a luxury S-Class Mercedes waited in the shadow of the close protection team’s Range Rover Sport. He spotted at least one handgun bulge above one of the men’s right hip. Luger sipped some more of the thick, black coffee and ate another tiny piece of the baclava. Ahmadi clicked his fingers at the waitress indicating that he wanted the bill and finished his glass of tea. The man’s wife did the same and the boy picked up his bottle of cola. Ahmadi dropped several notes onto the dish in the waitress’s hand, not bothering to look at the bill and as he stood up and adjusted his lightweight suit jacket, Luger saw that he was armed with a small pistol in a suede holster. The set-up was so small that it reminded him of a tiny cowboy pistol and holster he had played with as a child complete with chaps and miniature Stetson.

“Sit rep…”

Luger ignored the voice in his ear. It was vital that he did not speak and give himself away. He tapped the side of his cup twice with the teaspoon, then picked it up and sipped. “Target is mobile,” he whispered with the cup to his mouth.

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