Free Tier One Wild by Dalton Fury

of a thousand missing Igla-S’s and enough artillery shells to fuel IEDs around conflict zones for fifty years.
    So Marris left the low-hanging fruit to the Americans or the Libyans or whoever else wanted to get involved, and he stayed in Tripoli, working the hard cases.
    Within the last month he had discovered that, along with other arms traders who had poured into the nation after the revolution, a tight-knit organization made up of former members of the JSO, Gaddafi’s external intelligence service, were behind the bulk of the smuggling. These spies had survived the rebellion by using their tradecraft and now they were either in hiding in Libya or over the border in Egypt or Tunisia or Algeria, facilitating the sale of all types of conventional weaponry that had been hidden around North Africa after their government’s downfall.
    Marris’ efforts were bringing him closer and closer to the JSO ring’s leadership.
    His staff worked at his downtown office, but most days he stayed in his suite at the Corinthian, sat in front of his laptop, and reported via webcam to the UN in New York or conducted online meetings with government officials or Human Rights Watch or sat for interviews with Western news organizations. As the pace of his investigation increased, he found himself in higher demand.
    An investigation such as the one Marris and his team had been involved in would, of course, draw attention from the criminals as well. And it was no surprise that a couple of his investigators had been roughed up in the past month. But to Renny this was good news. It meant he was getting closer to a breakthrough, closer to the JSO men who were, as far as Marris was concerned, much more afraid of him than he was of them.
    Once again, Dr. Renny Marris was dead wrong.
    *   *   *
    He pulled into a parking lot near the Old British Consulate, in the center of the Old City, and he hefted himself and then his satchel out of his car. He crossed the street and entered his destination, and soon found a table at the large bustling courtyard café.
    Marris sat in the quietest corner of the courtyard and ordered a lunch of skewered lamb and rice along with a cup of strong coffee. He opened his satchel and arranged a sheaf of papers in front of him, and then began reading, losing himself in his data.
    He had a videoconference with New York this afternoon. In the meeting he would update UN leadership about a recent snag in his investigation. One of his confidential informants, a general in the Libyan army, had gone missing. Marris felt certain the man had lost his nerve and broken off contact, so scared was he about possible reprisals by the JSO.
    It was a setback, no question. Marris had relied on the general’s cooperation, and now that the man had disappeared, Marris would need to find new access into the shadowy organization of ex-spies controlling the export of illegal weapons out of the nation.
    This new access would not come without a great cost in bribes, and he needed the UN to foot the bill. So now he read up on the facts and figures he would use this afternoon in his case to the UN so they would give him the money he needed to retool his inquiries.
    Renny’s food came and he ate it while he worked. He ordered a second coffee after his meal, and he sipped while he continued to read the reports before him.
    While working, even while working out in the open like this, Renny took no notice of his surroundings. He had not a clue of his own personal security.
    It was only when he looked up from his work to rub his eyes that he noticed a young, well-dressed black man sitting across from him at his table.
    The man offered a toothy grin and an extended hand. “Dr. Marris. Good to see you again. Donald Meriwether, from the conference in Bruges last September. You are looking well.” The man spoke English with an American accent.
    Renny had been to a conference in Bruges the previous September, but he did not remember this man. Still, he