This time Cancer complied, halting at the left edge of the sidewalk, outside arm’s length from the nearest bodyguard. Fields of fire were a major consideration on any objective, but when the target area was a few square meters, the placement of each man as well as his every shot had to be surgically precise. Cancer let his eyes tick across the security men, his expression irritated.
Finally he replied, “I live here, pal. What are you gonna do, gun me down for taking a walk in my own neighborhood?”
“We will depart momentarily, and you can be on your way.”
The man scanned him, his eyes invisible behind the sunglasses, but Cancer knew some dim recognition was rising in his mind. The bodyguard must have thought he knew Cancer from somewhere, but couldn’t place him—at least, not yet. In the restaurant he’d been too concerned with the threat posed by a much larger Reilly, but the window of surprise was closing fast.
By now the gate was halfway open and a second vehicle was approaching from his rear as Cancer asked, “You picking up Malu? Buddy, we play poker once a month. I don’t think he’ll mind if I walk past.”
Malu appeared then as if summoned by Cancer’s lie, rolling a luggage case behind him. He was a slight man in his forties, maybe five-foot-six, and to Cancer’s surprise he was fairly casually attired—khakis and a tweed blazer over a pink polo shirt.
Cancer addressed him as an old friend, gesturing toward the security detail as he spoke.
“What the hell, man? Can I get past or what?”
His final words were drowned out by the approaching vehicle, Tolu’s media van cutting in front of the Mercedes and braking hard.
No sooner had it come to a stop than David jumped out of the passenger seat wielding a black object in his left hand. Cancer saw the west flank security man make a move to draw until he identified the item not as a gun but something debatably worse: a microphone.
One of the rear cargo doors opened a moment later, and Ian emerged with a bulky video camera atop his shoulder, converging with David as the team leader came to a stop at the edge of Malu’s driveway.
“Secretary Malu,” David called out, “Tom Connelly, Garrett News.”
Malu looked horrified, glancing from Ian’s video camera to David’s proffered mic. The three-man security element was taxed to its maximum—both flank men facing possible threats, with the armored vehicle’s forward movement blocked by a media van—and the shift leader made the wisest move he could under the circumstances.
Grasping Malu’s shoulder with one hand, he led him toward the street while reaching for the door handle to his G-Class.
Then David spoke again. “Any comment on the allegations against Gradsek?”
As soon as he said the word “Gradsek,” the trigger for initiation, Cancer saw the van’s remaining cargo door swing open, revealing two new players in the unfolding drama: Worthy leaping out with his suppressed rifle, and Reilly kneeling in the back, leveling his HK417 at the armored windshield a few meters behind him.
Cancer drew his pistol with blinding speed, firing the first two shots from his waist—both hit the security guard to his front, a pair of gut shots that ended his reflexive move for his own handgun—and then Cancer married his nonfiring hand to the pistol grip, extending the Glock as David opened fire on the guard at the western flank.
As Cancer fired another controlled pair, this time into his target’s chest, he heard the blasts subside to the crunching pop-pop-pop of Reilly’s armor-piercing rounds penetrating the Mercedes windshield on their way to the driver.
With his target falling to the sidewalk, Cancer transitioned his aim to the shift leader to see that he was too late—the man was still rushing Malu toward the armored vehicle when Worthy picked him off with a subsonic head shot, causing the man to drop in place.
The engagement was over in five seconds flat, leaving Malu as the last man standing. He released his grip on the luggage, turning to flee toward his residence.
But Cancer was upon him in three sprinting footfalls, using one hand to grab his blazer sleeve and spin him around as the other brought the pistol across his face in a savage blow. The bottom edge of the magazine cracked across his cheekbone with as much force as the sniper could muster.
Malu’s body jolted with the impact as David seized him from behind, dragging him toward the van as Cancer followed, stepping into the street with a final rearward glance to verify the post-assault activities in progress.
Ian was snatching up the microphone that David had dropped to draw his concealed pistol, while Worthy advanced toward the three fallen bodies, firing suppressed shots to ensure no witnesses survived to provide a description of the attack. David threw Malu into the back of the van as Cancer holstered his pistol and climbed aboard beside Reilly, who’d turned his attention to their new captive. The medic drove a knee between Malu’s shoulder blades to hold him down as Cancer retrieved a flex cuff, looking past the open cargo doors as David entered.
The Mercedes windshield was scarred by spiderweb fractures surrounding a tight cluster of ragged holes, providing a partial view through the sun’s glare to reveal the shapeless mass of what had seconds before been a living driver.
Then Ian stopped at the bumper, tossing Malu’s luggage inside the van before unshouldering the heavy video camera and setting it inside. He was in the process of boarding as Worthy appeared beside him, sweeping his rifle across the scene a final time before scrambling into the van.
“Go,” David shouted, and Tolu accelerated forward as fast as the van could haul. The devastated Mercedes receded along with the Gradsek bodies on the sidewalk as Worthy pulled the first cargo door shut and reached for the second as Cancer caught a glimpse of the gate to Malu’s residence, only now easing closed on its electronic timer.
Malu was crying out with incoherent panic, his pleas silenced as Reilly pulled a pre-staged strip of duct tape off the side of the van and plastered it over his mouth. Then he tied a blindfold over his eyes as Cancer and the other team members pulled on their tactical vests, donned their radio earpieces, and reached for the rifles lined up on the floor of the cargo area.
Ordinarily they’d begin their tactical questioning as soon as possible, interrogating the captive before the effect of capture shock wore off. But with the possibility of interdiction by Gradsek security contractors if not the Nigeria Police, the team had to remain poised to react with force. David climbed forward into the passenger seat while Cancer, Worthy, and Reilly took their seats with weapons in hand.
Only Ian was exempt from this security posture; after donning his tactical kit, the intelligence operative procured a large black Faraday bag and reached into Malu’s pockets, depositing his findings into the sack that would block digital signals and prevent any interested parties from tracking the politician’s cell phone.
Then he moved on to Malu’s body, conducting a thorough pat-down for hidden pockets and removing the man’s belt to see if it had a zippered pouch before moving onto the luggage to continue his search.
Tolu turned right at the next corner, proceeding north toward the A234 Highway.
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