Mission:Armor (A Division Eight Thriller Book 2) by AD Starrling

Author:AD Starrling [Starrling, AD]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2017-07-13T22:00:00+00:00

Chapter Thirteen

Ghat loomed on the horizon, a hazy collection of yellow buildings and palm trees blending against the backdrop of the desert valley sitting between the Acacus Mountains to the east and the towering sandstone formations of the Tassili N’Ajjer peaks on the Algerian border ten miles to the west.

Vivian braced herself against the door when the Jeep hit a pothole and finished checking her gun.

Alex glanced at her from the driver’s seat. ‘You getting a bad feeling?’

Vivian tucked the weapon back in its holster and smiled faintly as their vehicle approached the northern edge of the town. ‘Do I ever get good ones?’

His lips curved as he gazed ahead. ‘Well, there was that one time in Yemen.’

‘Oh yeah,’ piped Abraham from the backseat. ‘When she spotted that store?’

Vivian grimaced. ‘Seriously, how could they not have a single coffee shop in the entire place?’

‘It was a village,’ said Tom. ‘And we were after an al-Qaeda cell, not out for afternoon tea.’

They drove past a gas station and headed down Ghat’s main thoroughfare.

Over a day had passed since they started out on their mission from Camp Lemonnier. They had caught a few hours sleep that morning on the Osprey as it flew them north and west from Eritrea, where they had dropped off Zoe, Gaby, and Miles for their mission to Assab. With refueling and time awaiting Caldwell’s go ahead for their operation in Libya, it was fourteen hundred hours by the time they landed at the airport some ten miles north of Ghat.

A month had passed since the Benghazi attack. With a nervous Libyan government committed to full cooperation with the U.S. to show their support for the four Americans who perished during the two-fronted assaults on the main U.S. diplomatic compound and the secondary CIA annex on September 11 and 12, it hadn’t taken Caldwell long to get his Libyan counterpart to authorize their presence in the country. Besides, the new leaders in Tripoli were just as keen to put a stop to the illicit trade supplying small arms and heavy artillery to the insurgent Islamic militia groups wishing to impose Sharia law across the entire country.

The pale minaret of a mosque rose in the distance to the right, past an ancient fortress and the old town. Five hundred feet southwest of the mosque stood the hotel where Amscore had booked a room for Zayd Rahman.

Alex and Vivian dropped Tom and Abraham opposite the taxi stand just beyond the building and continued down the road toward the town’s main bank. A side street appeared on their left seconds after they passed the ochre colored complex. Alex turned the Jeep into it and pulled to a stop under a cluster of trees a moment later.

They sat and stared down a crossroads to the place where Zayd Rahman was supposed to have had a meeting on the day he disappeared.

It was a garage, with a warehouse attached at the back. The sign above the open front workshop said “Al Hamady Repairs.” They could see several men working on cars and pickup trucks inside.

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