The Storm (NUMA Files 10)

As Joe edged toward the yellow drums, Kurt struggled to guide the big machine. He lined up and moved forward. He grabbed the fork control and went to lower the forks, but they moved opposite to what he remembered. The forks came up, threatening to puncture the drum.

He slammed on the brake, and the forklift stopped short.

As he lowered the fork, Kurt caught sight of Joe. His eyes were wide. Kurt couldn’t really blame him. When the forks were at the correct height and angle, Kurt inched the rig forward and picked up the pallet.

Joe stepped up and lashed the drum tight and gave Kurt the thumbs-up.

With a great degree of caution, Kurt backed up and turned. Going forward once again, he found the rig far better balanced with Joe and the yellow drum weighing down the nose.

He moved slowly toward the line of trucks, following in the tracks of the other forklift.

There were five trucks in all. They were flatbeds with treated canvas tarps stretched over the top of metal ribs. It looked like the lead truck was filled and being buttoned up. The others were still being loaded.

Sabah pointed toward the last truck in the line, and Kurt moved toward it. He lined up with the rear bumper and raised the forks. When it was even with the bed of the truck, Joe unlashed the drum and eased it forward, sliding the entire pallet onto a set of rollers on the bed of the truck.

Moving it like that, he slid it into place and lashed it down like the other barrels. With the job done, Joe climbed back onto the side of the forklift.

“You realize this could be considered aiding and abetting the enemy,” he said as Kurt turned the forklift back toward the staging area.

“We can leave this off the report,” Kurt said. “A simple omission.”

“Great idea. It could happen to anyone.”

“Exactly,” Kurt said. “When we load the final barrel, you stay in the truck bed. I’ll park this thing and join you when no one’s looking.”

It sounded like a good plan and it seemed to be working. All the way up until they were almost ready to put it into action.

As they waited to grab the last barrel, Jinn and several of his men came out of the tunnel.

Sabah held up a hand like a traffic cop, and all activity stopped as he went to talk with his master.

Kurt cut the engine, hoping to overhear.

Another group of men joined Jinn. The young woman Kurt suspected to be the real Leilani was with them.

“You’re bringing her with us?” Sabah asked.

“I am,” Jinn said. “This complex is no longer secure.”

“I’ll contact Xhou,” Sabah said. “The Chinese are treacherous, but they always prefer to save face. That is why he sent Mustafa. He will redouble his efforts and release more funds. He will not be a problem until the sting of this failure has gone away. And that will be long enough for us to gain full control.”

“I’m not worried about the Chinese,” Jinn said. “That American was right. His government will move aggressively. They no longer care about borders. We’re not safe here.”

“We shall see,” Sabah said.

“I need a new headquarters,” Jinn insisted, “one they will not suspect. And I must do more to ensure our plan goes into effect, efforts I cannot make from here.”

He pointed to the woman. “Keep her out of the way until the loading is done. Then put her in the third plane, away from the men. I don’t want them near her.”

“She should be guarded,” Sabah said.

“Her will is broken,” Jinn said. “She will soon do as I demand, but if you must have her watched, send two guards, no more. And warn them, Sabah, if they touch her, I will stake them to the ground and set them on fire.”

Sabah nodded. He picked two men and they took Leilani toward one of the waiting transports. As she was dragged away, Kurt and Joe exchanged glances.

Kurt started the engine again and turned in silence toward the last of the yellow drums. He picked it up deftly, an old hand by now. Joe secured it and came back aboard the forklift.

“I know what you’re thinking,” Joe said.