‘I didn’t realise you had many of these in Africa,’ said Ian.
Ben chuckled. ‘There isn’t a weapon in the world you don’t get out here,’ he answered. ‘The Russians gave them to the Cubans, and the Cubans shipped them over to help out their guerrilla friends.’
‘And then they wind up here?’
‘These people always need money . . . and this is valuable kit.’
‘How much?’ asked Steve.
It was Archie Sharratt’s wallet they were dipping into, and that seemed deep enough. But Steve hated the way that arms dealers took advantage of Private Military Corporations, always assuming you were on some huge, unlimited expenses contract. Sometimes it was true. But if there was spare cash to be made, it should be the guys putting themselves in the line of fire that were making it. Not the blokes in the grubby backrooms putting huge mark-ups on the kit they’d have to take with them.
Ben might be a mate of Chris’s from the Recces, but Steve wasn’t sure he liked him.
‘Twelve thousand dollars.’
‘Ten.’
Ben shook his head. ‘Twelve,’ he said flatly. ‘I can get good money for one of those. Maybe even ship it to Iraq.’
‘With twenty thousand rounds included?’
‘Ten thousand.’
‘Done.’
By the time they completed the transaction, Dan was already in the corner of the warehouse, inspecting some of the latest kit. It was always the same with Dan, Steve reminded himself. It was like taking a petrol-head to a car showroom. He just couldn’t help himself from trying out all the toys.
Dan glanced back at Ben with a glimmer in his eyes.
‘Is that an STW?’ he asked.
Ben waddled towards him. His weight slowed him down, but like any tradesman he could move quickly enough when a customer was eyeing up the most expensive item in the store.
‘You familiar with those?’ he asked.
Dan was holding the box in his hand. ‘STW stands for see-through-wall, right?’ he said crisply. ‘The technology was developed by the Israelis, like most of the best kit. Basically, it’s a radarscope which you can fit onto any gun with a strong armour-piercing bullet. It has an impulse radar that emits very short blasts of high-frequency electronic pulses, then it uses a complex piece of software to literally reconstruct an image of what is happening on the other side of the wall.’
Ben nodded. ‘You can look straight through the wall and shoot the bastard on the other side of it.’
Ian was already holding the box in his hands. ‘For real?’
‘For real,’ said Dan. ‘It’s experimental, but the American police have been using them in hostage rescues. And the Israeli special forces, of course - it’s just that you don’t get to hear about that.’
‘And I reckon if you’re planning to assassinate a man,’ Steve said without thinking, ‘that’s the kind of kit you need.’
‘Assassinate a man?’ repeated Ben.
Steve was already cursing himself for having spoken. If you were heading north from South Africa, there was only one man a gang of international mercenaries would be going to assassinate. And his name started with a K.
‘Who is it you’re about to assassinate exactly?’ pressed Ben. His dark beady eyes were looking straight at Steve. It seemed that the code that said arms dealers didn’t ask questions was about to be broken.
‘Our business is our business and it stays that way,’ Steve said steadily.
Dan was glancing from man to man.
‘We’ll take it,’ he said, holding out the STW box.
‘I’ve got something else,’ said Ben.
He started to show them another complex piece of electronics, so new that it too was still packaged in a steel crate. ‘It’s called a high-power electromagnetic system or HPEMS for short, and it’s made by the American company EIA Aerospace. They’re selling them to the police . . . but to special forces as well.’
‘What does it do?’ asked Ian.
‘It puts out a high-strength microwave signal over a radius of up to fifty metres, and that disables any vehicle it comes into contact with,’ answered Ben. ‘It literally turns the machine right off. The idea is to put them on police choppers. They can fly above a car making a getaway and stop the bastard by flicking a switch. But they are obviously handy for the military as well.’
He paused to wipe a bead of sweat from his face. ‘Particularly an assassination squad. One that was going after a President, for example.’
‘We’ll take it,’ said Ian.
Chris arranged for the consignment to be ready by midnight, whilst Steve added up the damage and settled the bill. It came to $32,000 in total, paid for with a fresh roll of $100 bills that Bruce had given them before they left Scotland. He’d given each man six gold Krugerrands as well, since once they got into the wilds of Batota, gold would be the only currency worth having. The jeeps should be secured by the end of the day, then the unit would bring them round here, collect the weapons and start the drive north. It would be safer to move at night. If the South African police came across a group of foreign mercenaries with enough munitions on them to take out a small army, they’d sling them straight in jail. And probably beat us to death as well while they are about it, Steve thought grimly.