Page 64 of High Treason
Working without sleep had hit Kord hard this morning, and at times it clouded his judgment. He blinked and studied the van parked in the rear. The food delivery service had an impeccable reputation, but something wasn’t sitting right with him.
“Ali, once we’ve parked, let’s talk to the driver,” he said.
“I’ve met him, and he’s trustworthy. I made sure he passed security clearance.”
“The one you’ve spoken to could be a great guy, but I’d like to talk—”
“Makes sense.”
Once Prince Omar was escorted inside the home, Ali and Kord made their way to the kitchen pantry, where fresh food was being stacked on a counter.
“You’re a different driver from yesterday,” Ali said in Arabic.
A short, round man with olive skin and dark hair sized up Ali before responding. “This is his day off.” He answered in English, his voice holding no hint of an accent.
“I’d like to see your identification.” Ali’s size alone spoke of intimidation. Possible face-off? Kord might recruit him for the FBI.
“I left it in the van.” He added a small box of bananas to the counter, and the cook examined them.
Ali glared down his nose at the driver. “We’ll retrieve it together.”
“I don’t understand what’s going on.”
Ali crossed his arms over his massive chest. “We’re doing our job for Prince Omar. Ensuring his family’s safety is our priority.”
“I’ll join you,” Kord said. Ali nodded and he followed.
Outside, the spring weather held a hefty breeze. Typical March. The closer they walked to the white food-service van, the more the driver sped up his pace.
“Are you new to the food industry?” Kord kept stride beside him.
“I’ve been driving this van for eight years.”
Kord touched his Glock inside his jacket. “The owners have been in business for six years.”
The man chuckled. “Seems like eight.” He opened the driver’s side of the van. “I thought I’d left my wallet on the rear seat.”
Kord and Ali waited.
“Maybe I dropped it.” He entered the van and the door slid shut. The lock clicked.
Kord reached for the driver’s door at the same time Ali grabbed the passenger door. Both locked.
The engine roared to life. The driver slammed the van into reverse, knocking Kord and Ali backward. The tires squealed in protest, and the van whirled around, heading straight for the gate. The driver lowered his window and fired their direction.
“The gate controls.” Ali rushed toward the manual panel in the garage with his phone to his ear.
Kord fired repeatedly at the moving target while racing after it.Bullets flew through a passenger side window. The van swerved as though Kord had hit the target. Bullets soared into the metal and one hit a tire. The van pushed through the gate on three wheels.
Yanking his phone from his jacket, Kord pressed in the secure line that fed to HPD, giving the driver and van description along with license plate numbers. Second call went to SAC Thomas while Kord hurried back to Ali.
“Are you all right?” Ali said.
Kord nodded. “Made the calls. I got his license plate, and the security camera at the gate will have it too.” He pointed to the rear entrance leading to the pantry. “The food’s probably poisoned.” Alarm jarred his senses.
While bolting through the door, he remembered the four boxes of fresh produce and the ability to hide an explosive device.
“Get those boxes out of the house.” Kord’s arm stung, and a quick look showed blood had seeped through his left jacket sleeve. Ali’s question made sense. Grabbing two boxes, he pushed through the pain to carry them to the far corner of the property. Ali was right behind him with the other two. Near the rear west corner, they carefully laid them on the water-soaked grass.
