In last week’s episode, David watched as Lieutenant Singh piloted the Malloy Hoverbike around the St. Paul to inspect the damage from the storm. In this week’s episode, we catch up with the Response Team, who are just touching down in Tanzania, while more intrigue is plotted against the St. Paul…
The moment he stepped out of the Qatar Airways Airbus A380 at the Julius Nyerere International Airport, Travis Craigen felt the warm, moist tropical air wash over him like a soft wave. It engulfed him in a veil of humidity that smelled faintly of the sea with traces of exotic spices lingering at the edge of his perception. It was just after four A.M. local time, and Craigen paused briefly to adjust the time on his wristwatch before hustling to keep up with the rest of the team.
“Over here, Rattle!” Ricky Thibido called to Craigen in his slow Louisiana drawl. It was still dark when Craigen reached the terminal exit. The six other Response Team members were already waiting for him underneath the brightly lit concrete columns that supported an intricately designed concrete portico that somewhat resembled the intersecting beams of a house. The terminal bustled with people hurrying to and from the airport parking, and soon they met the driver who would shuttle them to the ferry terminal.
When the van arrived, the driver got into a heated discussion with Raquel “Curly” Kedzierski as she attempted to load her bags. “We don’t leave yet. We wait!” the driver exclaimed with animated arm movements emphasizing his broken English. “It’s safer here until the ferry terminal opens. Airport terminal safe, port terminal get you robbed.”
After a few hours, with the sun firmly rising in the east, they departed for the port. Dar es Salaam was the largest city in Tanzania with a population approaching twenty million. It was among the largest cities in all of Africa and possibly the fastest growing. The drive was just over twenty minutes, and Craigen watched the city pass by outside his window. Even though he’d traveled to Tanzania several times in the past, he still marveled at the sheer mass of humanity that lived and worked every day in this place that was (at least to him) a remote corner of the earth.
At the port terminal, the team quickly boarded one of the multi-deck catamarans operated by the Azam Marine Kilimanjaro Fast Ferries for the two-hour ride to Zanzibar. By this time, Thibido was growing hungry. The last meal he’d eaten was aboard the plane, and his stomach growled noticeably. He looked at the small cafeteria’s food items, but Craigen warned him against it. “Don’t fill up now and cheat yourself, Scooter,” he said, “or you’ll be missing some of the best grinds you’ve ever had. Wait ‘till we get to Stone Town, bro.” Craigen loved this part of the job. Every mission provided him with new opportunities to explore and discover new parts of the world. He couldn’t wait to get started.
Carlos Cubillo stood on top of the Castillo de La Luz on Gran Canaria Island. He always enjoyed the tour of the ancient fortification with its ultra-modern interior. He’d taken his time slowly ascending the levels and walking across transparent floors while admiring the sensuous and abstract collection of steel sculptures. It was a gorgeous sunny October afternoon, with the temperature hovering around an ideal seventy degrees and a light breeze coming in from the sea. Cubillo was at the pre-arraigned location, and he was waiting.
He didn’t have to wait long. Soon, a group of Chinese tourists made their way to the castle rooftop. They walked in a tight group led by an attractive young tour guide holding a flag in her hand. While the group moved about the rooftop, snapping selfies and taking pictures of the manicured gardens below, a man approached unseen and placed a tiny envelope in Cubillo’s hand. He took a discreet peek and saw a cell phone inside.
“Turn around,” Hétóng Rén said, directing Cubillo’s attention out across the peninsula that formed the Port of Las Palmas. One of the leading Spanish ports, Las Palmas handled all manner of vessels from small sailboats to cruise ships throughout the Mid-Atlantic.
“Do you see that cargo ship there?” Hétóng Rén asked in flawless Spanish.
“Si,” replied Cubillo as he discretely pushed the envelope into a pocket, “that is the Galeka. She arrived from England last night and is bound for South Africa.”
“Your target is the Airship St. Paul. We expect it to land next to the Galeka in that large open shipping container area, just past the last container crane. A maintenance crew has been contracted to disassemble and store its spare fuel tank. Then cargo handlers will transfer disaster relief supplies to the airship from the Galeka. Did you receive the schematics I sent?”
“Si, Señor.” Cubillo puffed up dramatically with a sense of his own self-importance. “I understand the plan perfectly. I will be disguised as one of the cargo handlers and will have no difficulty placing the device precisely in the manner you described.” They had the schematics, but neither man could have known that the diagrams had been created from Tiānlóng’s manipulation of David aboard the St. Paul.
Cubillo sought to portray himself as the picture of a noble revolutionary fighter. He was overly confident in his ability to impress his new Chinese employer. Perhaps he might agree to additional payments, or more favorable terms.
But Hétóng Rén would have none of that. “Señor Cubillo,” he said icily, “I consider your services a convenience, not a necessity. And since the timing is essential, I would be most displeased if you are not able to follow our agreed-upon instructions to the letter, and I am forced to conduct this business personally.”
“You misunderstand me, Señor!” Cubillo objected. Apparently, Hétóng Rén saw through his negotiating tactic. So now he tried to mask his true intent. “As I said, I understand the plan perfectly. I merely wish to express my profound joy at being able to strike a blow for liberty against the despotism of capitalism, our common enemy.”
Cubillo could tell that Hétóng Rén was thoroughly unimpressed with his brand of garden-variety Marxists rhetoric. So, he stopped pursuing his hidden agenda and agreed to just stick to the plan. Despite his railings against capitalism, Cubillo certainly didn’t mind getting paid. And Hétóng Rén paid well.
“Your first payment is already on the wallet.” Hétóng Rén indicated the cell phone Cubillo had slipped into his pocket. It contained the first installment in blockchain-based cryptocurrency. “The rest will be sent to you on that device once the mission is successfully completed.”
Hétóng Rén did not allow time for further conversation or questions. With a signal to the tour guide, he mingled back in with the crowd of tourists and disappeared.