"Yes, he has proven most knowledgeable on such matters."
"Interesting. So if they are not Americans, then who are they? Mercenaries?" Zhu asked.
"I assume so but at this stage I don't know. With your permission I would like to find out." Yang's voice was level, but Zhu knew his thirst for revenge was raging.
"You think the venture should continue?"
"Yes, Omar and the Janjaweed commander are replaceable. Our infrastructure and time are not. We are also postured to increase our pressure on what remains of the southern rebels. Our new contact will help us destroy what is left of their rag tag militia."
There was a short pause as Zhu considered his options.
"Has this become personal, Yang? These two men seem to be one step ahead of you at every turn."
The Chinese operative struggled to compose himself. The muscles in his neck bulged as he clenched his teeth. From the sinking of the 'Tian Hai', through being shot down in his helicopter, Yang had never experienced such defeat in his life. His injured leg, stiff back, and now scarred forehead, were all constant shameful reminders.
"If I said no then I would be lying."
"Good, there is much at stake. You have a personal interest in this now. Go forth and destroy these men, headquarters will provide anything you need!"
Zhu terminated the call.
Yang took a moment to focus his thoughts, then signaled for his driver. The young African drove his car to him through the police picket line where he had been waiting. Yang gave instructions to return to PETROCON HQ and the waiting helicopter. He needed to return to the refinery, south was where his two enemies would be heading, south to the oil and the battlefield. Already a plan was forming in his head as to how he would deal with the mercenaries.
Chapter 38
Kaljak Village, Abyei District
The battered blue van had cost them ten thousand US dollars. The price was almost the same as the brand new Hilux Mirza had bought in Juba. Mirza had found it on the outskirts of Khartoum and paid the inflated price to convince the driver to part with it on the spot. They had fueled it up from a hawker selling petrol by the bottle at the roadside and driven it south.
The Bunker's operations team had planned a route for them, avoiding all reported border checkpoints. Bishop had managed to re-establish comms using his iPRIMAL. The data link wasn't strong but it was enough for them to receive GPS waypoints.
After thirty-six hours of travel, they arrived back at the new SFF village, nearly four days since they had left for the mission to Khartoum.
"I can't feel my butt." Bishop climbed, stiff-legged, out of the van.
Mirza didn't look much better. He slowly pried himself from the driver's seat and immediately started stretching.
A group of SFF fighters watched them suspiciously from the shade of a huge boab tree. Bishop didn't recognize any of them, but he had a good idea where their weapons had come from. Sporting AKs with optical sights and PKMs that looked fresh out of the crate, it was obvious Mitch had been busy bringing in weapons for the new SFF recruits.
"Mirza! Aden!" Jonjo appeared from another hut and jogged towards the men. He grabbed Mirza in a bear hug and reached out for Bishop's hand, pumping it wildly. "I was starting to worry!"
"No need to worry. The mission went off without a hitch!" Mirza extracted himself from the youth's grasp.
Bishop gave Mirza a sideways glance. "Yeah, smooth as silk. We even traded in the Wildcat. How have things been here?"
The three men walked over to the shade of another tree and sat down on a pile of ammunition crates.
"Not well. Garang has been away, trying to bring men into the fight. Some have come." He gestured towards the newcomers under the boab. "But not many."
"And the Janjaweed?" asked Mirza.
"They keep coming. I have done ambushes while you were away but the more we hit the more there are. Without the other militias to help us we are only delaying our defeat. In a few days we will have to abandon this village and move south."
"Where is Garang now?" asked Bishop.
"Recruiting. Should be back tonight."
"And Jess?"
"She's with the wounded. We have taken losses." There was a moment of silence before Jonjo continued. "Enough about us, what happened in Khartoum?"
"Omar is dead," said Mirza, matter-of-fact.
Jonjo's eyes lit up in excitement. "How? I want to hear about it!"
As Mirza told the story, Bishop left them and walked over to the hut that served as the medical center. He nodded at the nurse who manned the desk in the waiting area. Without pausing, he continued to the next room, ducked through the plastic sheeting that kept out the dust from the operating table, and found Jess.
She was working on a soldier who had been shot through the upper arm. The man was heavily sedated and lying on a portable operating table. Bishop noted the bright lighting and other equipment that Mitch had provided. He grabbed a surgeon's plastic gown and put it on. Cleaning his hands from a pump pack of hand sanitizer, he donned gloves and a mask and walked over to the table.
The slug Jess had pulled from the man's arm hit the tray with a clunk as she looked up from the wound. Bishop noticed the heavy bags under her eyes.
"You're looking a little tired there, Doc."
"Aden, you're back." She flicked a stray hair out of her face with the back of her gloved hand.
Bishop gave her a broad smile. "Wild horses couldn't drag me away."
For a second the fatigue seemed to lift from her face, then she focused back on the bullet wound.
"Let me close up for you." Bishop moved around to her side.
"Would you? I'd love to sit down."
Bishop took the plastic tray with the needle and sutures from her hand and directed her to a chair in the corner of the clinic.
"Did things work out in Khartoum?" she asked. The doctor hadn't been privy to the details of the actual mission.
"Yeah, things worked out OK." Bishop started to close the wound, pressing the sides of the torn flesh together as he sewed. "How have things been here?"
"Plenty of wounded." Jess answered flatly.
"What about Garang?"
"What about Garang? I haven't seen him in two days. When I did see him he completely ignored me."
"I'm sure he's got a lot on his mind."
"Don't make excuses for him, Aden. He doesn't deserve them."
Bishop finished closing the wound and wiped it down. He dropped the sharps in a safety bin and stepped back from the table.
Jess got up from her chair to inspect the wound. "He's not going to be happy with that."
"What? Why?"
"Your stitches are too neat. The worse it looks, the more they like it. You know, boys and scars."
Bishop laughed and Jess called out for her nurse. She gave a set of instructions and removed her garb. Bishop followed her lead and they walked back into the waiting area.
"You know, without you most of these men would die," Bishop said.
"You mean without Mitch! That man's an angel. Everything I ask for he delivers."
"Without good people equipment is worthless."
"Tell that to Garang. All he cares about is being the big man. He—"
Jess's rant was interrupted by Jonjo bursting into the room.
"Garang called, he wants you and Mirza to come to Juba and meet with the other militias."
"Trying to rally more support to the SFF flag?" Bishop asked.
"Yes, he thinks that if you are there the others will join us."
Bishop nodded and turned to the doctor. "You need anything from Juba, Jess?"
"Actually I wouldn't mind checking in with the hospital. If I go with you I can also show you where the SFF safehouse is."
"Sounds good. We'll run it past Mirza."
They left the clinic and walked over to where the other PRIMAL operative was inspecting a new AK under the shade of the boab.
"Mirza, it's good to see you again,"
said Jess.
"And you," smiled the PRIMAL operative.
Bishop dropped onto the crate next to him. "What do you think Mirza? You up for a day trip to Juba?"
Mirza thought for a moment before replying. "I think you should go; any extra support could turn the battle. I should stay here and work with Jonjo and the others."
"That sounds like a plan. Jess and I will head to Juba. We'll take the Hilux. Jonjo, you and Mirza stay here and keep up operations against the Janjaweed. We'll only be gone two days. Hopefully we can get more tribes to join us. Any objections?"
There was silence from the group.
"Excellent. Jess, we'll roll in a few hours. I need to get a bit of shut-eye before I fall asleep on my feet."
Chapter 39
Juba, South Sudan
"How far?" Bishop turned the battered Hilux off the main gravel road in the center of town.
"It's at the end of this street," Jess replied. The last time she had been to the SFF safehouse was months ago, during a time she had shared hopes and ambitions with Garang. She was not looking forward to seeing him.
The safehouse was located on the outskirts of Juba within a group of high-walled compounds that lined the dirt street. The suburb was barely a step up from a shantytown, the basic buildings constructed with cheap concrete blocks, walls topped with broken glass to deter intruders. Trash filled the streets and the smell of burning plastic hung in the air.
Bishop parked the Hilux a short distance down the street and called Garang on his phone. The African-American answered on the second ring.
"Are you close?"
"We're just down the street. Is everything OK?" Bishop asked.
"Yes, everything is good. The delegations will start arriving soon. I need you to be here to greet them. It's very important that you are here first."
"We'll be there in a moment." Bishop terminated the call.
"What's wrong?" Jess asked.
"Nothing. Garang just seems a little stressed."
"Yes. A lot is riding on this meeting. Perhaps it would be best if I stayed in the car?"
"What? No, you'll be safer inside with us."
They left the truck and walked to the compound. Bishop had left his AK104 locked in the car along with his vest. He covered his pistol belt with his shirt.
"This is it," said Jess as they approached a wall with a heavy metal door. She rapped on the door a few times and thirty seconds later it opened with a screech.
One of Garang's trusted fighters let them in. The man lowered his AK47 and escorted them to the courtyard where the Southern Freedom Fighters' leader greeted them.
"Aden, thanks for coming. Is it just you?" Garang asked. "I thought Mirza was coming as well?"
"Just me and Jess. Mirza and Jonjo are holding the fort."
Garang gave Jess a look that suggested she was not welcome. "We're leaving weapons outside, Aden." He pointed to a low wooden table at the entrance to the main building.
"Why?" asked Bishop.
"It's a sign of respect to the other leaders. My men outside will be armed but weapons won't be allowed in the room."
"Fair enough." Bishop took his sidearm from its holster, removed the magazine and cocked it, catching the ejected round in his right hand. The last thing he wanted was someone shooting him with his own pistol.
For a safe house it was relatively well furnished. A large rug covered the concrete floor with a number of comfortable-looking couches pressed up against the walls.
"Jonjo tells me the mission in Khartoum was a success," said Garang as they sat down.
"No problems; in and out quick. Omar got taken down."
"Well done. While you've been away we have been busy as well."
"Jonjo filled me in. Have you had any luck with the other militias?"
"Yes and no. They seem interested and promise big things but so far they have done little. I am hoping this meeting today will make them commit."
One of Garang's men opened the door and gestured for the SFF leader to join him outside.
"Excuse me, I will greet our guests." Garang left the room.
Jess waited a few seconds before speaking. "He's acting weird."
"Tell me about it." Bishop was up and moving for the door. "I should have brought Mirza."
The door opened when the PRIMAL operative was only a few feet from it. The figure that burst into the room was not one of Garang's men.
Bishop grabbed the man's weapon, pushed it skyward and drove his fist into the man's face. The Chinese contractor collapsed and Bishop yanked the weapon from his hands. Before he could turn it around to face his attackers, a second man replaced the first.
A pistol fired and Bishop staggered backwards, turned and collapsed face down on the rug.
"ADEN!" screamed Jess, running towards him.
The guard grabbed her hair, dragging her away.
More men entered the room: two Chinese guards, Garang and the Chinese operative Yang!
"Garang! You killed him, you fucking traitor," screamed Jess, struggling against her captor. "You sold us out, didn't you, you worthless coward—"
Garang slapped her savagely. "Shut up, bitch. I've saved us. The Americans were never going to give us the investment we needed. We would have lost. This way everyone will get rich."
Tears streamed down Jess's face as she continued to struggle against a vice-like grip.
"Where is the other one?" Yang asked calmly. "There are supposed to be two. You promised me both of them."
"The other one stayed with my men. He is not the leader. This one is the leader."
"Yes, but you promised both." The Chinese operative stared calmly at Garang like a snake watching a mouse.
"I will deal with him later. Without this one he is nothing."
Yang snapped an order at one of his men. The guard knelt next to Bishop's body and checked his pulse. The man looked up at Yang and spoke to him in Chinese.
"He is still alive," translated Yang.
The guard rolled Bishop over.
"Hello, champ," the PRIMAL operative greeted Yang cheerfully. "Fancy seeing you here." He had his hands by his side, his iPRIMAL covered by his hand.
The guard's bullet had hit Bishop in the upper left arm, punching though his flesh only a few inches lower than his shoulder. It was a straight in and out shot, unlikely to have caused much trauma.
"I knew it was you," spat Yang. "The 'Tian Hai', the ambush, the helicopter, Khartoum; it was all you!"
"Bingo! Regular fucking Sherlock Holmes, aren't you?"
Garang crossed the room and plucked the device from Bishop's hand. He inspected the screen. "He's been recording us."
There was a loud bang and the device detonated in Garang's hand. He emitted a blood-curdling scream as his fingers were shredded by the tiny charge inside the device. Plastic and glass sliced into his flesh. He dropped to his knees, clutching the ruined hand in front of him, whimpering.
"That's one reason to use hands-free," quipped Bishop.
Yang watched Garang with disdain and gestured for one of his men to remove the wounded man. "Take him to the Bangladeshi hospital," he ordered in Chinese.
"What about my money?" Garang whimpered.
Yang took a silver brief case from one of his guards and thrust it towards the wounded SFF commander. "I should halve it, but as a gesture of goodwill I will let you have it all. Now take him to the hospital." The guard shepherded Garang out of the room.
Yang turned his attention back to Bishop. "I'm sure you think you are very funny. I can promise you will not be laughing when I am finished with you."
He turned to the two remaining guards, switching to his native tongue. "Sedate them and load them both in the truck. The woman might end up being useful."
Chapter 40
The Bunker, Lascar Island
"Sir, we have a major problem." The operations watchkeeper burst into Vance's office.
"Bishop?" the PRIMAL commander immediately asked.
; "The meet's gone bad."
For a big man Vance moved fast. He jumped up out of his chair and followed the watchkeeper into the operations room.
On the central screen a high-resolution satellite image showed the location of Bishop's iPRIMAL combat interface in downtown Juba, a kilometer west of the airport.
Everyone in the room was silent as they listened to the audio feed being transmitted from Bishop's phone. It was audible but muffled, as if the device was under a pillow or blanket.
"Shut up, bitch. I've saved us. The Americans were never going to give us the investment we needed. We would have lost. This way everyone will get rich."
They could hear the sound of Jess crying and the slap. On one of the other screens voice recognition software confirmed the voice as being Garang's, the leader of the SFF. Vance scowled. The ungrateful bastard had sold them out.
"Where is the other one? There are supposed to be two. You promised me both of them."
Vance glanced up at the other screen. The software had captured the voice and was searching databases. The accent was clear: Chinese.
"The other one stayed with my men. He is not the leader. This one is the leader."
Thoughts raced through Vance's head. What the fuck was going on? Was Bishop still alive or was he dead? How come they could not hear him?
The software still had not found a link to the Chinese guy.
"Yes, but you promised both."
"I will deal with him later. Without this one he is nothing."
"Big call, fucktard!" Vance growled. Mirza was not the sort of guy that anyone in the operations room would have crossed. Everyone knew the lightly built Indian was lethal; a quiet killer who would never give up until he completed his mission.
The Chinese guy spoke is his native tongue. Mandarin, if Vance wasn't mistaken.
"He is still alive."
There was a collective sigh in the Ops room.
"Hello, champ. Fancy seeing you here."
The audio feed improved dramatically, as if a pillow had been lifted. Vance couldn't help but smile.
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