Page 157 of The Fourth Option
“Who did he hire?”
“He won’t tell me. He calls him the Afghan.”
For a moment, Walker was back on the Afghanistan-Pakistan border, leaving his dead friend behind.
“The Afghan?”
“Some refugee that Bates met in the 2025 New Year’s attack investigation. The guy had nothing to do with it, but Bates got to know him. He worked for the U.S. in Afghanistan. Came to New Orleans in 2021 after the withdrawal. I’ve never met him, but Bates swears he’s solid.”
“What’s his name?”
“I don’t know his fucking name. I just told you. We just call him the Afghan. We use him when we need to keep some distance.”
“You son of a bitch. And Leigh Ann Staub?”
“That was you fucking guys!” Gormley hollered.
“What do you mean?”
“Cartel!”
“What do you do here at night?”
“I pick up cash from a safe in the office.”
“Why were you early tonight?”
“Early? I just came for money. My cut.”
“Why early?”
Headlights from two vehicles illuminated the trailer.
Gormley twisted his head and saw them too.
He laughed.
“That’s what I was doing here early, you dumb motherfucker.”
The headlights shifted toward the pier.
“Who are they?”
“They’re here for you. Hitters from down south. Six, maybe more. Now let’s make a deal. You let me go and I keep them from killing you tonight. That’s the best offer you are going to get.”
Walker watched as the two cars sped toward him.
“Wait here.”
Walker grabbed the shotgun, exited the vehicle, and unzipped his Orvis waterproof sling, extracting a garage door opener.
As the cars got closer, he recognized them as a minivan and a full-sized truck.
He waited until they were mid-pier and then he pressed the button.
The garage door opener sent a radio frequency to its receiver that completed a circuit and delivered a small electrical charge to the Christmas light bulbs buried in the milk jugs that Walker had set next to the concrete pier pilings hours earlier. Instead of illuminating a festive light, the electric spark ignited the peroxide powder, which in turn detonated the ammonium nitrate and aluminum mixture packed into milk jugs wrapped in nails, nuts, and bolts.
The four simultaneous explosions lit up the night and sent the shrapnel flying through the thin metal doors of the approaching vehicles, the blast directed inward due to the IEDs’ placement against the pilings.
