Jeff Carson - Foreign Deceit

The rear of the building suddenly plunged into pure darkness. Wolf hunched down with the sudden change. He knew from plenty of experience and training that it would take him about thirty minutes to fully get his night vision after exposing his eyes to that much light. Waiting, however, was not a good option.

There was no noise coming from within the observatory, no conversation. He knew at that very instant Vlad and Cezar had entered the building to take care of something. Some thing that would take long enough to justify shutting off the light, but not so long that they would risk leaving the truck open for any length of time. There wasn’t going to be a better opportunity than that moment.

He sprinted fast to the side of the truck, stopping with his back to the aluminum exterior, then craned his head for a look. His blood pumped fiercely — his breath fast, yet controlled. A fresh taste of the earlier cigarette pumped out of his lungs.

The truck interior was dark. Very dark.

One of the first things he’d learned about night tracking, first from his father, and later in the Army, was to use peripheral vision in low light situations. Looking straight at something utilized the cone cells on the retina, which were rendered worthless if too dark. Scanning with the peripheral used the rod cells, which were distributed more evenly throughout the back of the retina.

He swept his vision, taking in the truck interior with an unfocused gaze, and groped with his hands.

It was filled with computers — computers of all shapes and sizes. Mostly laptop computers. Monitors lined up along the floor of the truck all along the back and left side. There were six large cardboard boxes with flipped tops filled with laptop computers of all types. None of them looked new. Some had stickers on them — A.C. Milan, Vespa, Hello Kitty…they seemed to be all used computers. Hello Kitty? Wolf pressed his face close to the sticker and felt it. It was on a lap top with a pink soft plastic covering.

Wolf remembered the conversation from the day before inside the observatory — Vlad worked for the EAC, overseeing the logistics of moving astronomical equipment between observatories throughout the European Union.

A clear mental picture was forming in Wolf’s mind as to the true nature of Vlad’s activities.

Small light-colored boxes caught his attention, stacked underneath the open boxes of electronics. Wolf moved a box, unveiling a stark white cardboard one about one foot cubed in size. A dark blue logo was faintly visible. He bent closer and ran his finger across it — it was the letters EAC with what looked to be stars or planets. He lifted it. It was packed densely, heavy, and shaking didn’t produce any movement or sound inside.

He straightened and turned an ear towards the doors, keeping his breathing still. There was no noise. The best he had in way of a blade was a tiny scooter key in his pocket. It wasn’t his Leatherman , but it would have to do.

Cutting it open and pulling up the cardboard, he saw a square plastic bag packed densely like a clear sack filled with flour. Cocaine, he thought. Cocaine was found at his brother’s apartment, and a white bag was found at Rosenwald’s. It could have been planted by these guys. And, of course, wholesale cocaine smuggling to other countries makes a lot of money. But he wasn’t going to get anymore sure than that about the nature of the substance. He’d seen many lethal white powders in his day, and he wasn’t about to jab it open, shove his finger in and taste it. That was a move reserved for television actors.

Wolf heard a jostling inside the door, sending a shock through his body. He shut the flap and replaced the box as the light switched on in a blinding flash. He darted around the side of the truck. Looking down, his feet were bathed in light. He took one large stride, aligning his feet with the tire.

The door swung open and hit the exterior wall with a thud. Vlad and Cezar were in mid conversation, one of them walking briskly to the truck.

The truck jolted downward with bodyweight, rummaging sounds came from the other side of the thin metal side wall. Wolf looked to the front of the truck. He squinted and bore his vision into the darkness to see just where the truck was going to drive. It was parked on grass, smooth black pavement just in front of the front tires.

His eyes followed the jet black void cutting through the dark lawn. It went on about ten yards then veered to the right. Wolf swung his body to the right and followed the road all the way out to a gate, which then veered right again, where the road lowered below the level of the property as it descended downwards.

A secondary punch of adrenaline hit him when he realized the road was the same perimeter road his scooter was parked on, right out in plain sight with a stack of coats on the fence directly above it.

Facing the back of the truck again, his eyes widened as four fingers came into view gripping the back corner of the truck.

Just then Vlad, illuminated from the floodlight, stepped into view from the back of the truck. He turned and looked directly in the direction of Wolf. Looked right at him . “Eh?” He turned his head to the back of the truck. Vlad shot an uncomprehending glare to the mumbling voice Wolf heard within the truck and disappeared out of site. The truck jolted downwards again. Further downwards . They were both in the truck.

Wolf moved to the front of the truck, eyeing the open gate to the perimeter road. If he ran out to the gate, he could do it without detection, but getting the scooter as well? Not unless they stayed inside the truck for at least a full minute so he could slip past the good fifty foot section of road that was illuminated through the iron fence. He didn’t want to bring attention to himself in case they recognized him.

Vlad and Cezar launched into a loud argument which sounded right next to his ear. They were deep into the back of the truck.

Shaking his head, he clenched his teeth, cursing his options. He shuffled to the rear of the truck and inched his eye around the back corner. Wolf saw the faint flashlight glow and heard them talking probably eight feet in — hands rummaging through materials.

He eyed the dangling rope on the truck door.

Wolf sucked in a breath and lunged, gripping it with both extended arms, and pulled with the full force of his body weight. The door slammed all the way down faster than he expected, bouncing up from the floor a good three feet as he stumbled backwards onto his backside. He immediately bounced back up to the now slowly rising door and pulled down hard, catching a glimpse of shoes right at the door interior. The door began to rise, and Wolf knew the leverage they had trying to raise the door from the standing position was much more than he had holding it down with his arm. It inched higher.

The locking latch was right there in front of his face, but the door needed to be completely closed. Putting both of his hands on the exterior handle, he pulled down with the force of his two hundred pound body. Just as it slammed, he flipped the latch with his right hand.

Instinct told him he was already too late. He laid back and rolled just as loud reports from inside pealed open holes next to the door handle. He got up and sprinted back the way he came in. Muffled gun shots rang out behind him. Huffing loudly, he reached the fence and vaulted it in a single bound, barely touching his left hand to the top.

Wolf was suddenly flying ten feet over the scooter towards the rapidly approaching dirt road. Wind filled his ears as he finally landed — hard on his heels, instantly rolling and smashing his hipbone into the rough road, elbow bashing a split instant later. He gasped and stumbled to his feet gripping his elbow hard to contain the pain.