Outside Marrakesh, Morocco
B
ennani pointed ahead at a black Mercedes. “That’s him.”
Kane activated his comm as he assessed the area, the driver, working on the tire, the only one in sight. “Zero-One, Whiskers. You guys proceed, we’re going to say hello.”
“Copy that, Whiskers.”
Kane smiled at the cuteness Dawson added to his callsign. “Pull over behind him.”
“Yes, sir.”
Bennani crossed the road and brought their SUV to a halt behind the Mercedes facing in the opposite direction, as the SUV Bravo Team was in continued on. Kane climbed out and walked toward the chauffeur, smiling. “Can we give you a hand?”
The chauffeur glanced over his shoulder as he tightened a lug nut. “No, I’m almost done. Thanks.” He returned his attention to the tire as Kane continued forward. The man noticed, and as Kane leaned in to put him into a sleeper hold, he reacted.
Too late.
Within seconds, the oxygen had been cut off from the man’s brain and his struggles weakened as Kane dragged him away from the road and behind a cluster of large boulders. “Finish that tire!” he ordered Bennani.
“Yes, sir.”
Kane quickly stripped the driver of his jacket, shirt, and pants, then pulled off his own clothes. He put the driver’s on and frowned at how tight they were. And short.
Bennani laughed at him. “I think there’s a flaw in your plan.”
