SOAR: A Black Ops Novel

Then he stopped. Dead in the water. Sam closed his left eye and refocused the night-vision scope. It had only two-power magnification. But that was quite sufficient for Sam to be able to make out the truck, its hood raised, straddling the two-lane highway at about a forty-five-degree angle, effectively blocking the road. Half a dozen uniformed figures, some of them carrying weapons, stood shuffling in the chill night air around the huge vehicle while one man, perched precariously on the front bumper, shone a flashlight on the engine with one hand and tinkered with the other.

Kaz’s hand touched Sam’s shoulder. “Can I have a look?”

Wordlessly, Sam passed Kaz the monocular. The tech peered through it for some seconds, then handed it back. “Army.”

“Yup, PLA,” Sam confirmed. “They’re in uniform — I could make out their hats clearly. Could you see any markings on the truck? I couldn’t.”

“Negatory.” Kaz shook his head.

The two of them backed off the crown of the rise. There was nothing wrong. At least nothing Sam could put his finger on. But the situation still made him uneasy. “I don’t like it.”

Kaz shrugged. “So what do you want to do?” Sam was already heading toward the Toyota. “Let’s talk it over.”

The X-Man was leaning up against the open front door when they got back. He pointed at Sam’s night-vision monocular. “Who are they?”

Sam said, “Let’s take a stroll.”

The four of them ambled past the Toyota’s rear bumper and turned west, into the desert. Their footfalls scrunching the sand, they walked about fifty yards. Sam hunkered down and drew a diagram in the sand with his index finger. “It looks like a PLA truck broke down.”

Kaz said, “Or, it could be a roadblock.”

“I disagree.” Sam wagged his head. “They don’t look like they’re set up to make a traffic stop. I think they broke down and they’re waiting for help.” He saw the disappointment on Kaz’s face. “Okay, Kaz has a point. Could also be they’re some kind of security unit checking road traffic.”

Kaz said, “Hell, Sam, this is the only north-south connector in three hundred miles.”

“So, what if it is a roadblock?” Dick Campbell asked.

“It means we’ll probably be shaken down,” Kaz said. “Remember the traffic stop in Dabancheng?”

“Traffic stop? It was more like highway robbery,” X-Man said. “They shook us down for two hundred bucks.”

“And three hours, while they went through every single piece of our equipment,” Sam said.

Dick Campbell folded his arms. “Hell, so what if we lose a few hours, Sam? It’s not as if we’re on a tight schedule.”

“You’re right,” Sam said. “It’s probably nothing. I’m being overly sensitive.”

“Oh, yeah,” Kaz said. “Sam, you’ve turned into a real Mr. Touchy-Feely.”

Sam smacked Kaz on the upper arm. But he wasn’t sanguine about this turn of events. He’d survived for more than a decade by trusting his instincts. And now his instincts were telling him something about the truck just … wasn’t … right.

“So?” X-Man hooked his thumbs through his belt loops. “What’s the plan?”

“I’ll think of something. Let’s get back before Shoazim gets suspicious.”

Sam mulled the possibilities as they walked back to the 4x4. Then he walked up to the Toyota on the passenger side. “Shoazim, back up. We’re turning around. I don’t want to drive through the Army checkpoint tonight.”

The driver crossed his arms. “No, Mr. Sam,” he said. “We cannot.”

Sam wasn’t in the mood to be contradicted. “Shoazim—” he began.

The Uighur tapped the fuel gauge. “Two hundred kilometers at least to where we can get fuel if we go back,” he said. “But fourteen kilometers straight ahead in Tazhong is gasoline. Turn around is impossible.”

“How much fuel do we have, Shoazim?”

“Just a little.”

Sam walked around to the driver’s window. “Let me see.”

The Uighur twisted the ignition key and Sam checked the gauge. It showed just under a quarter of a tank — maybe three, three and a half gallons. He did the math in his head and came up about a hundred kliks short. “Okay,” Sam said, improvising, “what we’ll do is, we’ll go around.”

Shoazim’s eyes widened. “Around? But it is the Army, Mr. Sam. They will not like it.”

“They won’t ever know.” Sam tapped the Toyota’s roof. “Four-wheel drive,” he said. “No problem.”

The Uighur’s expression showed he didn’t like Sam’s decision at all.

Sam said, “Hold on.” He reached into his pocket for the Visor, turned it on, then held it toward the sky. “Let’s see what Mr. GPS says about where we are and where we can go.”

Half a minute later, Sam shut the PDA down. “Dammit — I can pull map coordinates, but nothing topographical.” He took a deep breath. “Okay. Let’s just do it.”

“Wait a sec.” Dick Campbell pulled the cell phone from his pocket and turned the power switch on. “Just in case we get stuck in the sand and have to call the office in London for a tow,” he said.