Arabian Storm (The Hunter Killer Series Book 5) by George Wallace (different ereaders .txt) 📕

enough to make a blip on sophisticated listening gear in the region. But it would be more than enough to deliver the short instruction message out to a waiting submarine specifically listening for it. Even if it was almost an hour earlier than expected.

Nabiin’s mission in this forgotten corner of the world was now complete. It was time for him to leave. He was destined to become a martyr, but on his own terms, not at the hands of some small pack of assassins who had somehow learned his whereabouts.

Mossad. Talbot. This had all the hallmarks. Nabiin vowed to find out who within his followers had betrayed him. But then, in an instant, he realized it no longer mattered. The plan was proceeding. Soon the world would be embroiled in war.

He slipped out the back door, keeping to the darker shadows, and then headed down the outside stairs. The gunfire and blasts were becoming less intense. But from the sound of the shooting, his own protectors were losing the battle. Then, just as he reached ground level and sprinted down a narrow alley, he heard a door crash open on the other side of the building.

There were shouts, in English. “Runner! Got a runner heading down the alley to the south.”

Nabiin ducked around a corner just as gunfire tore big chunks out of the wall behind him. He could hear running feet and shouts from somewhere back there. He was running toward the tiny harbor, little more than a rickety pier full of fishing boats. The main port facilities were several blocks to the west and would certainly be locked up tightly.

He would try to make it to the pier. Maybe he could make his escape there somehow. Or hide among the fishing boats in the hopes his men might regroup and come to his rescue.

Then, out of the darkness, Beren Sheedi suddenly stepped out in front of him. “Alzaeim Almuqadas,” he shouted. “This way. I have a boat ready.”

Nabiin followed his faithful lieutenant as they ran out onto the pier, to a ladder most would not have even noticed, then down to a small runabout tied up in the darkness behind a canvas blind beneath the structure. Sheedi hastily untied and cast off the lines and Nabiin kicked the boat away from the pier supports. Sheedi worked to start the engines, which had just begun to burble when the pursuers reached the pier. They stopped, confused that they could no longer see the shadow they had been chasing and shooting at.

Then, just as the SEALs heard the engines start up, Sheedi opened the throttles wide and the boat rocketed down the narrow waterway, racing out toward the open gulf.

Bullets shattered the windscreen and tore into the boat’s fiberglass as they raced away. They were almost out of range when Nabiin heard Sheedi yelp and crash into the boat’s wheel with a thud.

“Master, I am hit!” Sheedi screamed. “Keep going. I will try to…”

Nabiin turned to see the man slumping over the wheel, blood erupting in spurts from a wound in his chest. Without any hesitation, Nabiin shoved his servant aside and, while holding the wheel steady with one hand, lifted Sheedi’s legs up and over the gunwale. Then he braced himself and used his feet to push him over the side and into the dark water.

The weight of one less person might guarantee another knot or two of speed, and certainly less fuel used. He did not have that far to flee, but he also had no idea who else might know of his location or exactly how much fuel might be in the runabout’s tank.

He looked back. Nothing but the quickly dimming lights of the port. He got a better grip on the wheel and aimed the boat out to open water and safety.

Ψ

Jim Ward sprinted to the end of the pier and stared at Nabiin’s rapidly disappearing boat, escaping out into the Gulf of Aden. He kicked a cleat in frustration. This could not be happening. That slippery bastard was getting away yet again.

“Boss,” Cantrell yelled. “Looky what I found.” The big SEAL was pointing to a speedboat tied up at the next pier. For a simple fishing pier, this place was certainly well-equipped with fast watercraft!

“Roger,” Ward shouted. “Get the team. Maybe we can still catch this guy and end this problem for good.”

The rest of his guys pounded down the pier and piled into the speedboat, only to find there were no keys. Martinelli shoved his way to the wheel.

“Give me a second,” he grunted as he dove under the instrument panel. “This ain’t the first hot rod I’ve hot-wired.”

Seconds later, with only a few sparks, the boat’s engines roared to life. The team shot out in hot pursuit of Nabiin. They appeared to have a slightly faster vessel and enough firepower to not even have to actually catch him.

Even so, the fish they were so desperate to catch was no longer even in sight.

35

The general alarm sounded raucously throughout the Boz-Manand. Its piercing pulse yanked Arman Dirbaz from a very disturbing, chaotic dream. The engineer had dozed off and now jumped awake to find himself still slumped in front of the missile control panel. Maybe the ever-present breathing mask was not adequately doing its job. Or maybe he was just exhausted from no sleep and the tension of the last few days. The engineer rubbed the sleep from his eyes as he sensed people rushing about all around him.

“The time has arrived, at last,” Sayyed Abdul-Qadir Gilani proclaimed from his position directly behind Dirbaz. “We will finally strike our blow and bring about the end times. All for the glory of Allah. Mohandes Doktor, it is truly a glorious day. And to you is the honor of pushing the button.”

Obviously, the pretense of all this being a drill had been abandoned. Dirbaz almost smiled. Now, with the missiles destined to cook some fish somewhere in the far southern Indian Ocean, it would