Untitled
Chapter One
The warm Morocco air hung low on the clear day. The square was filled with marketers, customers, and somewhere, a drug lord on the CIA’s hit list.
“See anything Jason?” I called into the phone.
“Nothing. Where would this guy be Chris?” He replied back. I scanned the cobble-stoned area. No men in suits, nothing metallic, and everything seemed normal. “What if this is a set up, I don’t see any suspicious activity here.” He continued.
“Something, anything from the Orean gang.” Orean, the highest stake drug and weapon dealers on the Black Market. There was going to be a meeting about Cocaine today, here in the square. I pulled out a few coins and paid for a banana. When I received the fruit, three men in Khaki pants and polo shirts were walking by. I brushed upon one of them, this contact was vital.
“I’m sorry.” I said in the Moroccan language, not trying to notice the concealable ACC Honey Badger rifle inside his suede jacket he was wearing. “Jason,” I switched languages, “we have contacts, three of them heading for the fountain restaurant.”
“Acknowledged, any specific clothing?” He called, and I re-spotted him across the square standing on a stool, searching desperately for the three men.
“Polo shirts, khaki pants, white suede jackets. Highly dangerous. ACC’s and Luger's.” I informed, tracking them as they walked to the cafe.
“Copy.” I hung up and paced over to the fountain, concealing myself and giving the hot ground the banana peel. I stalked them like a panther, prowling its prey. Pushing my way through the crowded market, I made it to the fountain. They disappeared. I scanned the area, in search for anything, only to find nothing but baskets and people bargaining.
“They’re gone.” I said into the earpiece, still scanning the area for awkward activity.
“Yeah,” Jason replied sounding disappointed, “off and under the radar.
“See anything Jason?” I called into the phone.
“Nothing. Where would this guy be Chris?” He replied back. I scanned the cobble-stoned area. No men in suits, nothing metallic, and everything seemed normal. “What if this is a set up, I don’t see any suspicious activity here.” He continued.
“Something, anything from the Orean gang.” Orean, the highest stake drug and weapon dealers on the Black Market. There was going to be a meeting about Cocaine today, here in the square. I pulled out a few coins and paid for a banana. When I received the fruit, three men in Khaki pants and polo shirts were walking by. I brushed upon one of them, this contact was vital.
“I’m sorry.” I said in the Moroccan language, not trying to notice the concealable ACC Honey Badger rifle inside his suede jacket he was wearing. “Jason,” I switched languages, “we have contacts, three of them heading for the fountain restaurant.”
“Acknowledged, any specific clothing?” He called, and I re-spotted him across the square standing on a stool, searching desperately for the three men.
“Polo shirts, khaki pants, white suede jackets. Highly dangerous. ACC’s and Luger's.” I informed, tracking them as they walked to the cafe.
“Copy.” I hung up and paced over to the fountain, concealing myself and giving the hot ground the banana peel. I stalked them like a panther, prowling its prey. Pushing my way through the crowded market, I made it to the fountain. They disappeared. I scanned the area, in search for anything, only to find nothing but baskets and people bargaining.
“They’re gone.” I said into the earpiece, still scanning the area for awkward activity.
“Yeah,” Jason replied sounding disappointed, “off and under the radar.