Chapter 2 #2
His calves burned by the time they reached the tenth floor, and he checked on Zoe. “You doing all right?”
She nodded, but didn’t speak, waving him on.
Good. Perhaps she understood the seriousness of the situation.
When he finally pushed open the door which led to the basement car park, Zoe stumbled into him, grabbing his arms to stop from falling. Her face was pale and her breaths were pants.
He reached for his water canteen, but it wasn’t there, one item which had been considered too military to be allowed as part of their cover. However his pockets were stuffed with things he normally tucked into his fatigues.
He passed her a whisky flask which he’d filled with water, and she took a sip and then bent over, gasping for breath. “Stay here. Rest.”
Heath scanned the car park, but all was silent. There were several very expensive cars, but closest to the elevators was parking for the motorbikes, and there was a brand new, top of the range, bright red Ducati.
He picked up the tool Axle had left for him and assessed the bike as he crossed over to it. It didn’t have a pillion seat, but Zoe was small and should be able to squish behind him. The bike had road tyres with no clamps or locking mechanisms. It would be fast.
No helmets, but not an issue. He plugged the key scanner in and set it going, scanning the rest of the car park again.
The main gate was open, possibly stuck that way when the power went out. From here he could hear the murmur of a crowd, but it wasn’t close enough to be of concern yet.
The light illuminated green, and he hit the start button, grinning as the engine roared to life. He tucked the tool into his inside pocket and pushed the bike around to Zoe.
She stared at him wide-eyed as he got on.
“Come on.” He waved to her.
She stepped cautiously forward, her eyes running over the bike. He answered the question in her eyes.
“There’re no foot pegs. Wrap your pants and tie them.
” He handed her a couple of cable ties. “Get on behind me. Scootch as close as you can and keep your legs against mine.” He gave her an apologetic smile.
“It won’t be comfortable, but we need the flexibility of the bike.
If your legs get tired, tell me. Whatever you do, don’t kick the back tyre. ”
She glanced at the tyre in question, concern on her face, before nodding and swinging her leg over the back, pressing her body against his. Her soft breasts warmed his back. She wrapped her arms tightly around his waist. “Ready.”
“Hold on,” he called, and slowly accelerated to get a feel for what the engine could do.
It was feisty, and he grinned, keeping the speed as slow as he could and called to Dobby, “On the move.”
He turned away from Doha Bay, moving north before he turned west to meet one of the main roads which ran through the city.
“Stay clear of the US embassy. Protesters are surrounding it as well,” Dobby called.
He visualised the map he’d studied during the planning. It was on the route he’d planned to take, but he could turn off early. “Has the embassy got help?”
“Yeah, I spotted Rambo’s team as we drove past.”
Good. They’d worked with the SEAL team before on joint exercises, and the guys were excellent. As much as he wanted to help them, it wasn’t his mission or jurisdiction to do so.
The streets were clear, and he turned the throttle, giving the bike its head. Zoe’s arms tightened around him, but she didn’t say a word.
He glanced down streets as they drove past, and saw a crowd in the distance, but he kept going. At this speed, they might catch the convoy. They were about ten or fifteen minutes ahead.
He counted the passing streets and made note of the signs, slowing to turn left towards the Doha Expressway. They sped away from the US embassy and back to the D Ring road to the airport.
“Situation at the airport is worsening,” Romeo called.
Heath slowed so he could hear better.
“They’re closing the runway,” Duke replied. “Dust storm is visible on the horizon.”
Fuck. Could anything else go wrong?
“Five minutes out,” Dobby reported.
“Fifteen,” Heath added. So much for the easy mission for a change. He shouldn’t have jinxed it. Behind him Zoe shifted, but it was enough on this bike at this speed to make him battle for control. When he regained it, he reassessed their options. No point killing themselves to make it on time.
Romeo’s voice came over. “They’ve given us clearance to take off if we go now. Wind’s picking up.”
“How much time before it hits?” Dobby demanded.
“Ten, maybe fifteen minutes,” Romeo said.
They wouldn’t make it, and the conditions would prevent the plane from taking off if they waited. The situation on the ground could escalate further, particularly if the storm lasted for several days.
“Go,” he said. “Take off as soon as the rest of the team arrives.”
“Heading through the entrance now,” Dobby reported. “What’s your plan?”
“Plan Charlie.” They could be in Saudi Arabia in a little over an hour and a half after the dust storm had blown over. Or, if the storm settled in for several days, they could get a car or boat and exit the country.
“We’ll organise you both visas for all surrounding countries,” Dobby said.
They both knew Heath could get into the country without going through a checkpoint, but it would be good to have the option of going right up to the border crossing, and would help with them getting out of that country.
Visas were a future problem.
Right now, they needed to find cover before the storm hit. He slowed his speed.
“What’s happening?” Zoe yelled over the engine noise.
“Change of plan. We need to find shelter.” They were surrounded by light-coloured, high-density housing without a garden or shelter to be seen.
“There’s a souq not far from here.”
A public space, but people might be hiding at home. It gave them a much better chance of changing vehicles and getting supplies. If he could get them a decent car, the dust storm wouldn’t be a problem. “Which way?”
She shouted directions at him, and he drove fast through the streets. The scent of dust floated on the increasing wind as he turned into the car park. Zoe was off the bike almost before they stopped.
They dashed inside as the first wall of sand hit.
Heath winced. The shiny, brand new bike wouldn’t look so shiny or new by the time the storm finished. Hopefully the owner had good insurance.
“We’re in the air,” Dobby said.
Good. At least his team was safe.
Inside the souq was a warren of shops full to bursting with clothes, spices, souvenirs, and anything he could need.
He grinned. Time to kit up.
***
Zoe’s legs screamed at her as she limped away from the door of the souq. Wind and sand rattled the glass. Thank goodness they were no longer out there. She turned to the man who had dragged her out of the building and onto a motorbike, studying him for the first time.
The dark business suit made him look like a bodyguard and a foreigner, but his dark hair, thick beard and tan skin said his heritage was probably from around this area.
He scanned the area, looking for threats.
She tilted her head. “Do we have time for some introductions now?”
He glanced at her, confused for a split second, and then grinned. “I know you’re Zoe Yelton, political analyst, and the person I thought would be the least pain in the arse on this mission.”
She frowned, but the teasing way he said it made it impossible to be angry by the assessment. “And you are?”
“Joker.”
She raised an eyebrow. “Joker? Is that all I get?”
He moved through the aisles between the stalls and stopped at one that sold camping supplies. “It’s my job to get you out of here safely since we missed the extraction.”
She gaped at him. “They didn’t wait?”
“Couldn’t with the dust storm incoming. It would have put everyone at risk.”
Taking care of the majority. But she’d put Joker at risk. This was what happened when she disobeyed her superiors. Would she ever learn? “I’m sorry.”
He nodded an acknowledgement as he placed a backpack, rope, and a bunch of random looking things in a pile and spoke flawless Arabic to the shop owner, asking for a price.
She could be flying over the country right now, rather than wearing sweaty clothing in the middle of a souq in a country which might erupt into violence at any second.
But if she was here, maybe she could help the children being trafficked.
She studied Joker as he bartered the price.
He was more than a bodyguard; of that she was certain.
She’d overheard one of her colleagues mention they were sending in special forces just in case.
And he’d started the motorbike with some kind of fancy gadget.
Joker handed over cash and stuffed his purchases into his backpack before slinging it onto his back. “This way.”
He led her to a stall selling loose-flowing traditional clothing. He held up a top against himself and then pants and added them to the pile before he turned to her. “Do you know how to wear a hijab?”
She nodded. “But what I’m wearing is appropriate attire.”
“It is.” He added a hijab and a black abaya to the pile. “But we need to blend in more.”
He purchased the clothing and gestured her towards a curtain at the back which was some kind of change room. As she watched, he emptied his jacket pockets of various items and then stripped it off. Underneath he wore a bulletproof vest. He glanced at her. “Hurry up.”
Definitely prepared for the worst. Just how dangerous was it out there?
Her mind whirled as she took the clothing behind the curtain. They had no rendezvous, the dust storm would make it far easier to sneak into the port, and the protests would mean fewer people at the docks. It was the perfect opportunity.
But that would be going against instructions again.
Dare she risk it? She slid the abaya over her existing clothes and swapped her scarf for the hijab.
Both items were heavier, but also somewhat comforting.
Quickly she stuffed her scarf into her backpack and swung it onto her back.
She stepped out of the change room to find the shop empty except for the owner.
Her pulse jumped. Had Joker left her here?
“Where did my friend go?” she asked the man in Arabic.
“He said he would be right back.”
So she was just supposed to wait here for him and hope he was telling the truth?
Why wouldn’t he? She was his mission, even if she was a pain in the arse.
She tapped her thigh as she stood at the front of the stall, waiting. There weren’t many people around; some gathering supplies like Joker had, others waiting by the entrance looking out at the dust storm, and a few stall owners locking up for the day.
One minute became two, and then three.
Zoe’s chest tightened. Where was he?
How long should she wait before she made her own plans? Nisha lived nearby, so she could always try her place, but the dust storm would make it difficult to navigate.
Just as her pulse rate was increasing, she spotted a man striding towards her. She almost didn’t recognise Joker. He hadn’t gone for the traditional long thobe, but wore long pants and shirt, and could have passed for both a local or a migrant, definitely blending in.
Zoe let out a sigh of relief. “Where have you been?”
“Getting supplies,” he said, gesturing to his far bulkier backpack. He glanced at her clothes and nodded. “Looks good.”
She warmed at his compliment and followed him out of the shop. “Joker,” she began and then stopped. “I’m sorry, I can’t call you that. What’s your real name?”
He glanced at her. “If I told you that, I’d have to kill you.”
She rolled her eyes and waited.
He grinned, seemingly pleased by her reaction, and the smile made her heart rate increase. “Heath.”
The name suited him. “Heath, what’s the plan?”
He led them through the souq as if he had a destination in mind. There were so few people inside and some stalls were closed, but the coffee stall where Heath finally stopped had a couple of stools outside. “Coffee?”
She nodded, frowning. What had happened with getting out of town quickly? She sat and waited until he brought the thick, dark coffee to the table along with a couple of syrupy dumplings.
“What intel do you have about the children?” Heath asked.
Zoe blinked, surprise filling her. She’d thought he hadn’t been interested and she’d have to convince him. “Photographs,” she said. “And a firsthand witness confirmation of what occurred.”
He gestured to her backpack. “In there?”
She fumbled with the zip and dragged out her laptop. “Nisha was going to send the photos to me. I met her down on the Al Corniche this morning. It’s why I was late.”
While she waited for her laptop to boot, he said, “Tell me exactly what she told you.”
“Three boys and three girls were picked up in fancy cars by people promising to get them well-paying jobs in Saudi Arabia, but Nisha’s son followed the car and it went straight to the port where they were loaded into a container.”
“How did he get access to the port?”
“He works there.” She found the email and opened it, turning the laptop so he could see the images.
Heath’s frown deepened as he zoomed in on the photo of Maryam looking worried. “When’s the ship due to set sail?”
“Nisha said today, but it’s probably delayed due to the protests and the dust storm.”
He nodded and took out his phone, searching for something. “Where does Nisha live?”
“In Asian City, not far from here.” Hope stirred. “Can we help?” Zoe sipped the coffee, bracing for the jolt of caffeine while she waited for his answer.
“It’s not my mission,” Heath replied, but he sounded more like he was trying to convince himself of that.
“Isn’t it everyone’s mission to stop children from being treated as slaves?” she challenged, trying to hold back her ire. She needed him on her side.
“Yeah,” he said. “We’re going to need a car.”