On aisle six he located an extra container with the same color variation in paint he had discovered in the fourth row. Were those marked differently for the smuggler’s purposes?

Harry pried up the lid. When he looked inside, images of hollowed-out schools, mosques, and government buildings flashed through his mind. His pulse quickened, and sweat beaded on his skin. He closed his eyes and took several deep breaths before he successfully brushed the memories aside.

Each half hour, his mobile buzzed.

Elise: You’re out past curfew.

Harry: Just a little longer, Mummy.

Grinning, he signed off, imagining her response to his text. Patience was not one of Elise’s virtues. Harry fairly rubbed his hands together, relishing the upcoming row. He loved to watch her spit and snarl. The heightened color and additional sparkle to her eyes transformed her beauty to unparalleled magnificence.

Ninety minutes and three texts later, he sealed the last crate and let himself out the bunker via a side exit. Before him stretched acres of transport vehicles. Hunching low, he crouch-ran past a dozen of them, their hard-shell bodies painted in tans, browns, and greens, then he came to the end of the row and readied to cross the open ground. Footsteps, coming from the right.

Harry rolled underneath a tall, hard-shell transport and hid behind a tire, his heart drumming double-time.

Pebbles crunched in the opposite direction. More footsteps.

Harry whipped his head in that direction and froze. One of the soldiers would see him in the bunker’s exterior lights if he remained in this location. Sweat beaded on his forehead. He slipped out from the tactical support vehicle and tried the door handle.

Locked.

Crouching, he ran to the far side door.

Locked.

More footsteps—closer this time. No one inspected MoD vehicles in the middle of the night. Who were these men, and what were they doing? Were they his arms dealers? Suspicions roused as he went, silent footed, working his way down the side of the vehicle.

On the fourth door, the handle turned. As he slipped inside, Harry blessed the CBRN soldier who had forgotten to lock up, then pulled the door behind him, careful not to latch it and betray his location.

Climbing over the driver’s seat, he flattened himself on the metal floorboards and waited for the soldiers to pass. Both pairs of footsteps converged at the back of the vehicle.

“Anyone see you, Private?”

“No, sir. You?”

“Negative.” Footsteps came up beside the vehicle.

The scrape of a key. The transport’s driver door opened, and the vehicle shifted from the additional weight. The door slammed. Utterly flummoxed, Harry froze. If either soldier turned around, Harry couldn’t talk himself out of this corner.

Careful not to make a sudden move, he turned off his electronic devices. Elise would have a coronary when he didn’t respond to her next text.

“I downloaded the latest.” A young soldier spoke from the passenger seat.