“Wire sucks at subterfuge,” the guy said quietly. “Probably made the guard nervous.”
“What’s with the armed patrols?” Range asked, careful to keep his voice low.
“Pakistani ports have seen a big increase in criminal activity. So much that China gave Pakistan two gunships to ramp up patrols. Ports are now only open to commercial traffic, so we worked a deal with Jaeger to operate out of his reefer.”
On the third level, the guy banked away from the stairs and trudged down the passage. He pointed to one door. “Galley is there.” Two more doors on the right, he flicked open the next one. “It’s all we have left. Only twelve cabins and we’re running hot with a dozen.”
Range eyed the cabin—a bed, head and shower, table with chairs. Wanting her safe, he guided Kasra inside then angled between her and the guy. “Who are you?”
“Spike Renner. Onetime 5th Group.”
A SEAL. “And now?”
Renner lifted a shoulder. “Little of this, little of that.”
“How d’you know Cannon?”
Renner’s gray eyes hit his. He sniffed. “I get that you feel the need to test me. After that video hit the dark web, I’m guessing you’ve had some heat on you. Heard some chatter about you catching a rogue prostitute who killed the girls in her brothel.”
Kasra gasped. “I did not—”
Gaze on Renner, Range silenced her. “Guess I’m not the only one testing people.”
“I know Canyon through Max Jacobs, but I don’t know you.”
“Likewise.”
Renner sucked his cheek. “Fun times, Blue Eyes.” He rapped on the hull. “Help yourself to the galley, if you’re hungry.”
“I stowed some gear at a building—”
“Saw that,” Renner nodded. “Wire will retrieve it later and bring it aboard.” He scanned Range head to toe. “We wear the ship’s uniforms while onboard to avoid hiccups with port authority if they run random inspections. I’ll check with Jaeger and see if he can spare a couple uniforms for you and”—his gaze slid to Kasra, then back to Range with a smirk—“the, uh ... missus.” His chuckle trailed him down the passage.
Missus. The guy was well informed. Range stepped out and eyed his back. “Renner.”
Hand on the bulkhead to the stairs, the SEAL glanced back.
“What port are we headed to?”
“Does it matter?”
Range held his gaze, irritated at the inference that, with the manhunt on for them, beggars couldn’t be choosy. But they needed that intel in order to plan and prepare.
“Zayed Port.”
“Emirates?” Surprise squirreled through his veins. What were the chances …? “Hey.” He shifted more into the passage, not wanting Kasra to hear. “That dark-web video you mentioned…?”
Renner nodded.
“Later, I’d like to see that.”
“Bet you do.” Renner cocked his head. “They’ve painted you to look like a rogue operator with a vendetta.”
“Not far from the truth.”
CHAPTEREIGHTEEN
Pakistani Reefer, Gwadar Port, Pakistan
