A Ship Full Of Guns
Raphael Mirabaud
The worst part was
how much I enjoyed it.
Raphael stood flush against a wall beside a tall building at the Port of Rotterdam in The Netherlands. The December wind whipped at his black clothes in the dark. The pockets of his fatigues bulged with tools but not weapons. The Ilyins didn’t allow him to touch any sort of a weapon.
Beside him, Magnus Jensen, Aiden Grier, and Aaron Savoie stood against the wall, slouching, looking nonchalant, and armed to the teeth. The Ilyin Bratva guys had been all over them as soon as they’d met up at the port an hour after sunset, so Raphael couldn’t even talk to his men with any privacy.
They’d had time to give him hell for his scruffy beginnings of a beard and shaggy hair, however.That kind of thing hadn’t changed.
At the bank that afternoon, Sokolovsky had handed Raphael an odd-looking coin that turned out to be two magnets stuck together. He’d attached it to Raphael’s shirt. “Leave it there.”
At the very least, it was a microphone. At most, a camera.
The Port of Rotterdam was the busiest in Europe, a constant churning of ships, cargo, and departing trucks. Crowds filledthe main docks even though it was after midnight, and truck traffic growled along the streets. In the harbor, ships traversed the busy waterways. Piping tug boats dodged between vast cargo ships and the floating mountains of the container vessels.
The enormous container ship that was the target of their operation rocked sedately in its slip, a hulking shadow that blocked the floodlights shiningfrom the other side of the port. Half its cargo had already been unloaded.
The container filled with illegal weapons was due to be winched off the ship by a crane within the next few minutes.
The crane, black-sketched against the gray sky, lifted a semi-truck-sized trailer off the ship and swung the behemoth toward the dock, blocking out the feeble stars shining through the gloom.
Raphael andhis men leaped into motion, sprinting for the trucks.
A few grabs, an injection or two, and some men who had chosen the wrong employer slumped against the wall in the dark.
Adrenaline roared through Raphael as he methodically incapacitated one man and reached for another, pinching off that guy’s blood flow to his brain with a quick sleeper hold around the guy’s neck.
Life surged in Raphael’sveins. The night sparkled around him, and air filled his body as he breathed.
In only a few minutes, it was over.
Magnus stretched one of his arms. “Wasn’t even sporting.”
Raphael signaled the Ilyin Bratva’s men with his radio.
They climbed into the cabs of the trucks and drove into the night. The red lights on the backs of the trucks faded away in the dark.
Magnus bumped his shoulder againstRaphael’s in a bro-hug after a successful operation. “See you next time.”
As he blended into the dark, Raphael felt paper rustle in his pocket after another expert bump-pass.
Magnus would find a flash drive in his pocket because bump-passes can go both ways.
Raphael grinned as he walked to his rendezvous point for pick-up.
The night seemed more beautiful, and he could hardly wait to get backto Flicka. His skin craved her, and his flesh hungered for her taste and touch.
