Takuba’s setting up a nice little army here, Caine thought. Modern weapons, top of the line training. But who’s footing the bill?
The dirt road curved around the tanks and widened out into a large rectangular lot. A squat, gray building sat at the end of the field, and three trucks were already backed into loading bays. A group of lanky, bedraggled men and women were unloading crates from the other trucks. They labored under the watchful eyes of more Delta Blue staff.
Their faces were flushed and dripping with sweat. Caine watched as a group of four young men stumbled in the mud. They struggled to move one of the heavy crates into the loading dock. They wore torn, raggedy clothes and their bodies were malnourished.
Prisoners of war, Caine thought. Slaves taken by Takuba’s raiding parties.
Smoke rose from the bright red tanks of an industrial incinerator that stood next to the building. More men were dumping the crates of rotting food into the device, and the smoke gave the air a pungent smell.
An elderly man stumbled in front of Caine’s truck and keeled over in the mud. His crate tumbled to the ground and split open. Automatic rifles and ammo containers spilled out into the mud. Caine slammed on his brakes and the truck ground to a halt.
“Hey, watch it, asshole!” the supervisor shouted through a megaphone. “Those things aren’t cheap! You four, get over there and clean off those guns!”
The group of young men set down their crates and hurried over to the spilled weapons. They gathered them up and wiped the mud off on their tattered clothes.
Two mercenaries grabbed the barely conscious man by his arms and hauled him to his feet. His head lolled, and his eyes rolled back in his head. They dragged him towards another square, concrete building. It stood near the edge of the fence that ran around the complex.
A mercenary wearing a blue hard hat jogged over to Caine’s truck. He rapped on the door. Caine opened the door and lowered himself out of the cab.
“I’ll back it in for you,” the man said. “You can go ahead inside. The local help will unload.”
Caine forced himself to return the man’s grin. He took a few steps towards the loading dock, then paused. When the truck started reversing, he changed direction. He followed the two mercs as they dragged their prisoner through the mud.
Whatever the building’s original purpose, it now served as a dungeon for Takuba’s prisoners. The small sitting area where the two mercs entered was clean and functional. It contained a desk, a refrigerator and some computer equipment. But beyond that, the building was dank and reeked of human body odor and waste.
A rebel soldier sat behind the desk. The mercs walked past him and threw the old man on the floor. Caine stood behind them, pretending to wait patiently. He glanced up at the ceiling but saw no surveillance cameras in the room.
“This one’s used up,” one of the mercs snarled. “Time to put him down.”
The rebel soldier looked down at the man and sneered. “He can work a bit more, eh? Let him rest a little, then we find ways to motivate him.”
The men laughed. “Suit yourself,” one of them said. “But we’re not carrying his ass anymore.”
The rebel soldier stood up and kicked the man in the ribs. “Move, you lazy bastard! Back in your cell!”
The man groaned and tried to pick himself off the floor. He fell back down, moaning in pain.
“Least you know he won’t go running,” the merc said, chuckling as he shouldered past Caine. He looked up and gave Caine a suspicious glance. Caine smiled. The man nodded, then he and his partner left the building.
The soldier turned and glared at Caine. “What you want?”
Caine’s mind raced. His first instinct was to ask for Galloway, but he had no idea if the man was being kept here or not.
Nhial’s family, he thought. His wife, Aya …
“I’m looking for a woman. Name’s Aya,” he said. “Your men took her in Kanfar.”
The rebel grunted. “Why you want to see her?”
“Interrogation,” Caine said.
The man stared at him. “Takuba already interrogated that bitch.”
Caine shrugged. “Guess he enjoyed himself.”
The man laughed, then tilted his head towards the corridor. “Yeah, okay. She’s in unit 15. Give me a hand with this one, then I open it up for you.”
Caine followed the rebel as he bent down and grabbed one of the old man’s arms. The soldier turned his back to Caine. “Take his other arm,” he grunted.
Caine lunged forward and looped his arm around the rebel’s neck. The man gasped as Caine pulled the arm tight. He clawed and scratched at the flesh of Caine’s forearm, but he could not free himself from the chokehold.
Caine took a step backwards and dropped to one knee, pulling the rebel down to the floor. The man kicked and struggled as Caine twisted the hold even tighter and cut off the flow of oxygen to his brain. As his struggles weakened, Caine let go with one arm and slipped a folding knife from a pouch at his belt. He flicked it open with one hand. The curved, serrated blade glinted in the light.
“Here,” he whispered into the struggling man’s ear. “Let me give you a hand.”
He plunged the blade into the man’s thigh, severing his femoral artery. A jet of crimson shot out of the wound. The rebel’s eyes bulged. He gave a few last kicks, then his eyes closed as his consciousness faded. A puddle of dark blood pooled on the floor beneath him.
Caine searched the man’s body. He wrapped his fingers around a yellow plastic key card attached to the corpse’s belt. He yanked it off and stuffed it in his pocket. Then he tore off the man’s shirt, dragged his body across the floor, and shoved it under the desk. Working fast, he used the shirt as a rag and mopped up the blood as best he could. He opened the fridge and pulled out two bottles of water.
He opened one and kneeled down next to the prisoner. He placed the open bottle in the man’s hand.
“Here,” he said in a quiet voice. “You need water. Drink.”
He stood up and paced down the dark corridor. A series of industrial metal doors lined the concrete walls. Numbers were sprayed on each door in red paint.
12 … 13 … 14 …
He located the one marked 15. He banged on the door. “Aya?” he called out, as loud as he dared. “Are you in there? Nhial sent me.”
“Nhial?” It was a woman’s voice, weak and muted behind the metal barrier. “He is alive?”
“Yes, he's alive. Give me a minute.”
The door rolled up along a track, but a yellow padlock blocked it from opening. Caine lifted the lock but could find no combination pad or keyhole. He grabbed the keycard from his pocket and held it up to the lock. A tiny green light blinked on, and the lock clicked open.
The dank smell intensified as the air rushed out of the dark, concrete room behind the door. Caine’s eyes blinked as they adjusted to the dim light. At first, he thought the room was empty … then he realized the darkness hid a sea of bodies. They were so still, they seemed almost dead. There were no windows, and the heat in the room was staggering. Sweat swelled up on his forehead as he stepped into the stifling chamber.
“Aya?” he called again.
A woman limped to her feet. The other bodies began to moan and stir. Caine put a finger to his lips. “Shhhh … we have to stay quiet.”
A few of the bodies parted, revealing a Caucasian man slumped against the far wall. Caine barely recognized him. He had lost weight, and his skin was burned and covered with bruises.
“Josh Galloway?”
The man turned and glanced at him with one eye. His other eye was black and swollen shut. “Yeah,” he croaked. “Who the hell are you?”
“Rebecca sent me. We have to get out of here.”
The man stood up. “Wait … Caine? Is that you?”
“Have you seen my son, Buri,” the woman hissed. “He escaped the compound. He is all alone outside.”
Caine shook his head. “No, I haven’t seen him. How many people are in
these cells?”
“About half are out in the yard now, unloading,” Josh answered. “The other half are in here.”
Caine clenched his jaw. “And Takuba?”
Josh nodded. “He’s here. Or at least he was.”
“Doctor Vasani has your samples. She’s taken them to a lab in Juba. I know about the bio-weapon.”
“Takuba calls it Gemini. The man is psychotic. And he’s not alone.”
“What do you mean?
Josh looked him in the eye. "Allan Bernatto is running the show here.”
Caine’s jaw clenched and his nostrils flared in anger. “Bernatto? Are you sure?”
“I’ve seen him with my own eyes.”
Bernatto … the name echoed through his mind. His muscles stiffened. He felt his blood boil as memories of his betrayal bubbled to the surface. The days and months of captivity. The torture. The sheer, unending horror …
Caine looked around the room. Aya met his gaze with pleading eyes.
“Please … I have to find my son. We must leave this place!” she moaned.
He nodded. “You will. I promise. But this facility is crawling with Takuba’s men. Not to mention a small army of professional mercenaries. We have to wait for the right moment. Let me scout the area, figure out our next move. In the meantime, lay low. And stay quiet.” He handed her the other bottle of water.
Josh limped over to him. “I’m coming with you.”
Caine stared at him. “You’re in no condition to fight, Galloway. You should wait with the rest of them.”
Josh glared at him. “Go to hell. What are you doing here anyway?”
“I told you, Rebecca sent me to find you.”
“Mission accomplished. You found me. Now let’s get on with it.”
Caine thought for a moment. The longer he stayed here, the more likely they were to be caught. And despite his weakened state, Josh had a determined glint in his eye.
“Fine,” Caine muttered. “But if you slow me down—”
“I can manage. Let’s go.”
Caine wiped his bloody knife clean on his pants.
All right, he thought. Bernatto and Takuba, working together … Time to wipe away the past for good.
Chapter Thirty-Four
Nena squinted and bent her head back down to the microscope. On the slide below the lens, she could see several translucent blobs, drifting in a diluted oil solution. She watched as the undulating bacteria cells bumped into the hydrocarbon molecules in the liquid. The circular pools of oil began to break up where they contacted the cell walls of the bacteria.
A dark shadow drifted in front of the slide, obscuring her view. Nena lifted her head from the lens and whispered a curse in Arabic. She pulled her hair back behind her head and fastened it with a rubber band.
Nhial stood behind her, glancing around the laboratory with an anxious look in his eye.
“Can you see what you are looking for?” he asked. “This virus, you say it eats oil?”
Nena looked back at him and smiled. “The virus itself doesn’t eat the oil, but the bacteria it’s hiding in does. Also, the virus is too small to see with this equipment.” She glanced down at the microscope and frowned. “I can see the inclusion groups on the bacteria cells, but not the individual viruses themselves. Too bad there’s no electron microscope here.”
“We’re lucky they let us come here in the first place,” Nhial said, puffing out his chest. “This place may not rival your schools in the north, but it is the greatest University in South Sudan.”
Nena lowered her head back to the microscope. The University of Juba’s teaching hospital consisted of a series of small brick and concrete buildings, near the center of the city. Like everything in the country, she knew the hospital had been affected by years of civil war. Constant fighting made acquiring supplies and a stable faculty a challenge for the university.
The laboratory facilities were tiny, and far from sterile. The microscope she was operating looked like it had come from a high school science class. But she had to admit, in a few hours here, she had accomplished more than she ever could have in Kanfar, or even at her clinic in Malakal.
“You’re right,” she said in a soft voice. “And thank you.”
“Why are you thanking me?”
“For coming with me. After everything that’s happened … I am grateful I didn’t have to travel alone.”
Even though she could not see him, she could almost hear his smile. He shuffled behind her.
“It is my honor, Doctor Vasani. You have helped our village, our people, many times. This is the least I can do.”
Nena slid a second slide under the microscope. She lifted her head again, picked up a pen off the counter, and made some notes on a yellow pad. “And you’re right, these facilities have been extremely helpful. I’ve been able to confirm these bacteriophages are capable of hibernating in crude oil for months. Possibly longer.”
She turned to a sealed glass cabinet sitting on the lab counter. Inside the cabinet, a round-bottomed flask hung from a wire rack over a Bunsen burner. A long glass column sat above the flask, and a narrow piped tube ran from the top of the column to a nearby beaker.
“What is in there?” Nhial asked, pointing at the cabinet.
Nena slid her arms into a pair of black rubber gloves mounted to the side of the cabinet. The interior of the glass box was airtight. Using the gloves, she was able to pick up an eyedropper and suck up several drops of liquid that coated the bottom of the beaker.
“This is a fractional distillation column,” she said. She placed a drop of the solution on a glass slide. “It simulates the oil refining process. The burner heats the liquid in the flask. The chemical compounds inside have different boiling points. They are captured by different trays in the column. That’s how oil refineries separate crude oil into different products, like gasoline, kerosene, or diesel.”
Nhial walked closer to the case and peered inside. “You are very knowledgeable, Doctor. But are you sure this is safe?”
Inside the case, Nena picked up a can of pressurized liquid nitrogen. She gave the sample on the slide a quick spray.
“As I said, conditions here aren’t ideal. But this should freeze and kill the pathogens, if there are any. But of course, there is a risk.”
Nhial stepped back from the case.
Nena took the slide and deposited it into a smaller box jutting from the side of the cabinet. She closed off the box from the rest of the apparatus and removed her hands from the gloves.
She took a deep breath and bit her lip. “Okay … here we go.”
She opened up the box, removed the slide, and slid it under the microscope. She bent down and adjusted the lens. “Najah, success! Again, the bacteriophage survived the refining process.”
As she scribbled more notes on her pad, Nhial stared out the small window in the door at the far end of the room. A nurse wearing a pink uniform stood outside the door, consulting a clipboard of charts she held in her hand. Two men approached the nurse and smiled at her. They began talking and gesturing around the corridor.
Nhial took a step closer to the door. Something about the men looked familiar …
“Aintazar. Wait a minute. Something is different here.” Nena’s brow furrowed as she pressed her face closer to the microscope. “These samples didn’t just survive … their cell wall has barely decayed.”
“Is that important?” Nhial asked, not taking his eyes off the door. The nurse turned and pointed through the glass window.
“The other samples delivered the virus during the refining process. Their cell wall decayed, and the virus was released into the surrounding areas. These samples are different. The cell walls are weakened but still intact, and the virus is still trapped inside.”
Nhial was still staring at the door. One of the men turned and looked through the glass window. His smile vanished from his face, replaced with a cold, determined stare.
Nhial glanced at the other side of the ro
om. Another door in the opposite wall led outside to the campus.
“Doctor, we must leave. Now!”
Nena tilted her head and gave him a surprised look. “What? We can’t leave. I still have work to—”
She was cut off as the men opened the door.
“Doctor Vasani,” one of them called out. “You must come with us. We are with the Juba police.”
Nhial grabbed her hand and pulled her to the opposite door. “Move,” he hissed. “Quickly!”
As he dragged her out the back door, Nena saw the men hurry their pace and draw pistols from their waistbands.
Nhial pulled her through the door and slammed it behind them. They ran down the narrow dirt path between two of the medical buildings.
“Who are they?” Nena gasped.
“They were with Takuba the day he came to Kanfar. The day he took my family!” Nhial shouted back. “They are Ghost Jackals!”
The two cleared the building and sprinted across the dirt square in the center of the campus. As they neared the stone arch of the entrance, a Jeep roared into the square and skidded to a stop. More men leapt out and marched towards them.
Nhial clutched Nena’s arm and jerked to a stop. “This way!” They turned and ran between another pair of buildings.
“The city is on high alert for the peace conference,” Nena huffed between breaths. “How did they get in here?”
“Takuba must have already had men in place,” Nhial muttered. “Like I said, this is the biggest medical center in South Sudan. He knew we would come here. I was a fool to bring you—”
As they raced around the corner he collided with a nurse wheeling a cart of IV bags. Nhial and the woman fell to the ground and the cart toppled over in the dirt.
Nena ran a few more feet, then looked back. She skidded to a stop. “Nhial!”
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