“Tell them not to take us to the actual border crossing,” Skull said to Zinabu. “We want something isolated.”
Zinabu nodded and bent down through the open rear window to talk to the driver.
After another half hour, the truck stopped at what appeared to be an arbitrary spot in the middle of a vast flat wasteland of dust and rock. Low hills flanked their west and north. The men in the cab spoke to Zinabu.
“What’s this?” asked Skull fingering the MP5.
Zinabu pointed to the west. “They say those hills are the border, but no one guards them. Herders cross them all the time with their flocks. Say there is a spring up in the hills and suggests we fill up before we go forward.”
“Why’s that?”
“Because on the other side is the Danekil Desert,” Zinabu explained. “I’ve only heard stories about the place, but none of them were very cheery.”
“Great,” said Skull, climbing out of the cab and slinging his rucksack over his shoulders. He got a sense of déjà vu and realized this reminded him of the Hopi dropping him off in the middle of the New Mexico desert. “I’m half a world away and I’m still sneaking across borders in deserts,” he muttered.
“What?” asked Zinabu.
“Nothing. Let’s go.”
Chapter 13
Reaper marched down the firing line and whacked one of the team’s remaining thirty candidates on his helmeted head, causing him to jump.
“Stop jerking the trigger, Flyboy,” she said. “How many goddamn times do I have to tell you that? I can’t for the life of me understand how you even got invited here, you’re such a piss-poor shot.”
The man with the charming good looks and blonde hair smiled at her. “Because I’m the best damn pilot you’ll ever find.”
“That’s the only reason you haven’t been cut. Hey, you heard the one about how you know if there’s a pilot at a party?”
He nodded and smiled. “Don’t worry; he’ll tell you himself.”
“Exactly. Now squeeze the trigger slowly. Make the shot surprise you. Your jerking is why everything is going off to the right.”
Flyboy nodded and slowly squeezed the trigger. The round impacted much closer to the bull’s eye.
“Better,” she said, and then walked on down the line. She stopped behind a small dark Peruvian. All his shots were right on top of each other in the red circle.
“Good shooting, Hawkeye,” she said. “Why don’t you go over and give Flyboy some tutoring?”
“I do not like these new Sam rounds,” he said. “The muzzle velocity is off and I think the knockdown power significantly decreases with range.”
“They’re called Frangible Non-Lethal Ceramic Projectiles,” said Reaper, “and each round contains a tiny dose of the Eden virus. Means we don’t have to kill everyone, and helps some Edens overcome their inhibition to shoot.”
“I prefer the term ‘Samaritan round,’” said Hawkeye, “and I still don’t like their performance. As far as inhibition to kill,” he cocked his thumb down the line to his left, “I don’t think you have to worry about that with some.”
Reaper looked at where he was pointing and wasn’t surprised to see Blade and Hound Dog. They were two prison hard cases Spooky had sent her, and they were as thick as thieves now. Both sat on the edge of the firing pit sharing a joint and laughing. Unfortunately, Spooky had vetoed their elimination, so she was stuck.
Reaper marched down the line toward them.
“What the hell are you two doing?” Reaper demanded.
“Relax there, little tightass,” said Blade. “We’re just taking a break, you’re always welcome to join us.” He gave her a meaningful gaze as he looked her up and down suggestively. “As long as you’re willing to contribute to the fun.”
Reaper kicked out hard and fast. The toe of her boot smashed into Blade’s mouth. His face exploded in broken teeth and blood and the joint appeared to vanish down the man’s throat.
Hound Dog leaped forward and found the tip of Reaper’s knife a millimeter from his eye. “Go on and try it,” she said. “It won’t bother me a bit to cut out your eye. It may take you a month or more to grow a new one, but maybe it will teach you something. It will certainly eliminate you from this mission.” She stared him down. “You got something to say?”
The man slowly leaned back, glaring at her.
“You bitch!” screamed Blade through a broken mouth. His hands were cupped under his face, trying to hold in the teeth and blood.
“You,” she pointed at Hound Dog. “Get him to the infirmary. Should be fine by the evening. They’ll give you a high calorie drip and make sure nothing grows back crooked. The minute you get out, you’re both on extra duty and half rations for three days.”
“You can’t do that,” snarled Hound Dog. “That ain’t right.”
Reaper shrugged. “If you don’t like it, walk away. Oh wait, that’s right. If you don’t cut it here you both go back to prison. So I suggest you drop the hardcase bullshit routine and shape up. Otherwise you can go back to butt-rape in the shower and getting shanked in the yard for all I care.”
Hound Dog just glared at her.
Reaper sighed. “It’s like that, huh?” She picked up one of the men’s rifles lying on the ground and checked the magazine. “Been wondering how these new Sam rounds work on real people,” she said. Reinserted the box, she chambered a round and shot Hound Dog in the stomach.
Thrown backward by the force of the bullet, both of Hound Dog’s hands flew to his belly and he looked at her with wide eyes.
“Hawkeye says the knockdown power isn’t there,” Reaper remarked as if commenting on the weather, “but it looks okay at close range. Better to be safe than sorry, though. We need to practice double-tapping.” She shot him in the leg this time, drawing a scream, and then aimed at his head.
“No,” he said, his hands out toward her and a trickle of blood dribbling out of the corner of his mouth. “Don’t.”
“Then both of you haul your sorry asses over to the infirmary. You’re already healing, but you’ll need the calories real soon. Better get moving before the cramps set in or you’ll be tempted to eat each other.”
The two men rolled slowly out of the firing pit, avoiding looking at anyone. Blade helped Hound Dog struggle to his feet and they hobbled away.
“Those thoughts you’re having right now,” Reaper yelled after them. “Not good ideas, but you’re welcome to try them.”
Reaper had just started to turn back to the training when she saw a distinctive helicopter approach from the west. The VIP bird was only used when it was something important.
“Hawkeye,” she yelled.
The small dark man materialized soundlessly beside her, reminding her strongly of Spooky.
“Take over while I go see what that is about. Get everyone out of the pits and work on firing on the move like we did yesterday.”
“Aren’t you going to tell me not to get anyone shot?” he asked.
“Naw. Let them shoot each other. We just tested the Sam round on Hound Dog and it didn’t appear to do any lasting damage to him, mores the pity.” She strode across the field and arrived near the hanger just as the helo’s blades had stopped whirling.
A stocky man with pale green eyes and a cruel smile intercepted her.
“Shortfuse. What are you doing back here?” Reaper asked.
The man continued to smile and hooked his thumb over his shoulder. “Spooky told me to come on back. You know, the guy that’s your boss? Said he’d smooth things over with you.”
Reaper looked inside the hangar and indeed saw Spooky talking to several of the members of his mysterious special staff.
“Don’t you move one step from here,” said Reaper, her finger in his face. “I’ll be right back.”
“Roger, chief,” Shortfuse said. “I can tell you missed me. It’s good to be back.”
Reaper marched over angrily to Spooky and stopped within eyesight, waiting for him to look
at her. He was speaking with several others, and she knew he saw her and was ignoring her for now.
Spooky finally turned to look at her and smiled. “Reaper, good to see you. I’ve gotten your reports and things seem to be going well.”
“Thank you, sir,” Reaper said with deliberate mildness. “What’s Shortfuse doing back here?”
Spooky frowned. “He’s the only demolition expert you have left. The other two are gone. One quit, I believe.”
“And you cut the other one for no reason.”
Spooky’s smile vanished. “I always have my reasons. Whether I share them with you is my prerogative. Regardless, that man is the only explosives expert you have left on the team and you might need one.”
“He blew a man’s fingers off during training,” Reaper said. “He did it on purpose and laughed like it was a joke. He thought it was funny.”
“But the victim was an Eden,” Spooky said. “From my understanding, the fingers have grown back nicely.”
“That’s beside the point,” said Reaper. “We lost training time because of it. And something isn’t right with him in the head. Same for those two convicts you sent me, Blade and Hound Dog.”
“You’ll likely need them also,” Spooky said.
She shook her head. “I want them gone.”
“Blade is an expert with knives and night infiltration,” Spooky explained. “Hound Dog is a superb tracker. That’s why I picked them.”
“Yes, you picked them. But you told me I’d have the final say on my team.”
“And do, with these exceptions.”
“Then I don’t really have the final say, do I?”
Spooky shrugged. “I’m in charge. If you want to work FC covert ops, you do what I say. There are other places for you to go, I’m sure.”
Reaper ignored the challenge. She wasn’t ready to leave just yet…at least, not as long as Markis was the overall leader. If that ever changed, though…
“Something’s not right with them,” she repeated.
“Explain,” ordered Spooky.
Reaper was silent for a moment. “It’s like...almost like they’re not Edens. Sure, everyone knows there are variations in the virus’ effects, and I know they have it because I’ve seen them heal, but there’s something wrong with them anyway.”
“As if they don’t have the virtue effect?” Spooky asked.
“Exactly. It’s like the Eden fixed everything except their consciences.”
Spooky chuckled. “The Eden virus doesn’t infuse people with morality. Until Elise Markis and her team decipher the mechanisms, we’re only guessing, but I think it simply strengthens the ethics people already have by giving them the courage to stand up for what they believe. Most ideas of right and wrong are set long before infection. Perhaps it makes them less afraid to do what they already know is right.”
“So you’re saying if they were killers and thugs before, that’s what they’ll always be?” Reaper asked.
“Not necessarily. Most criminals know what they’re doing is wrong, but they quash their consciences and do it anyway. The Eden Plague makes that much more difficult. You also have to realize that the effect on people is much like a bell curve. The middle of the curve is what we see most of the time. There are always outliers. Look at yourself, Reaper. You’re not exactly sweetness and light.”
Reaper looked at Shortfuse. “Explaining it doesn’t make it acceptable. And personal feelings aside, these guys are unreliable. They’re not on board. I don’t have their hearts and minds, and I never will. That’s the real problem.”
“You need these people. You’ve just gotten a little too used to working with Edens and must remember what it was like before, when you had young recruits from all classes and backgrounds. Train them like you’d train non-Edens. I’m sure these aren’t the first derelicts or ex-cons that you had to whip into shape?”
“Well...no...”
“You’ve also worked in prisons and interrogation camps?”
“Yes, but this is different,” Reaper said. “Any one of these three could blow the whole mission because they can’t control their impulses.”
“I don’t disagree,” Spooky responded. “But you do have the background, experience, and skills to mold them into a team. That’s why I picked you for this job. You’re getting spoiled. With Edens being so compliant, you’re forgetting how to motivate difficult people. You’re looking for the easy way out, but I’m not going to give it to you. This is the job and I need you to do it.”
“Aren’t you the same guy who broke a man’s arm for giving you a little bit of attitude?”
Spooky grinned. “Then break their arms. Or their legs, or their skulls. Just as long as they’re ready when the mission starts.”
Reaper stared at her boss hard for several long seconds. “You realize you’re putting me in a position where I’m going to have to do something drastic. If we’re on a mission and they go sideways, I’ll put them down. For the good of the mission.”
Spooky patted her shoulder. “If you did, that would truly impress me. But enough of this. How is the team?”
Reaper forced herself to push the frustration aside. “They’re coming together, except for the three problem children. Most of the candidates are good troops. I know we’re trying to get down to twelve for the team, but you might want to consider using the ones you cut for something else. Maybe another mission.”
“Already on my radar,” he said. “You might be surprised to know that I’ve even found a use for Ronald Sievers.”
“The guy whose arm you broke?”
“The same,” Spooky said. “He and I have gotten along wonderfully since then.”
Reaper wasn’t sure how to feel about this. Finally she nodded, “Good. We don’t have enough people to waste.”
“Exactly. But you’re going to have to pick up the pace. The mission for which this team was formed has become more complicated.”
“Exactly when are you going to tell me the details?”
“All in due time. No point until the team is down to its final size. Don’t want non-members knowing about it if they don’t have to.”
“At least you could tell me.”
Spooky shook his head. “It would only be a distraction, and you appear to have enough of those. I need you focused on training and selection. But I might have something to help you with that.”
“Really?”
“Yes, call it a warm-up,” Spooky said. “A live fire exercise.”
“That would be good,” Reaper said. “We could use something different. What is it?”
“You’re going to conduct a raid on the Mendoles compound and bring me the head of the cartel. Alive.”
Reaper stared at him for a moment, trying to determine if he were serious or not. “Holy shit. If that’s the warm-up exercise, do I really want to hear what the real mission will be?”
“You’re right. You may not. And not a word to anyone. Not even your team here. A leak might be fatal…for you. Now get back to work.” Spooky slapped her shoulder one more time before he turned back to the helicopter. “I’ll brief you on the details in person next week.”
Reaper shook her head and cursed. “Follow me, asshole,” she said to Shortfuse as she walked back to prepare her team.
Chapter 14
Mistufa Tongali had been Prime Minister of Ethiopia for nearly two years. The youngest to ever serve in that post, he had the confidence not only of the Cabinet and the President but of the newly returned Ethiopian King himself. Still he was nervous about his next appointment.
There came a light knock on his door as he sat deep in thought.
“Yes,” he called, looking up.
A gorgeous woman opened the door. “Sir, your two o’clock is here. Shall I show them in?”
“Yes,” said Tongali. He took a deep breath and stood.
His secretary returned within moments, opening the door wide. A tall man in long white robes entered. “His Excellency the Honor
able Jabir al-Raziq, Ambassador of the North African Islamic Caliphate to Ethiopia,” said the woman.
“Greetings and be most welcome,” said Tongali shaking the man’s hand. “Please sit. May I offer you tea?”
“As-salaam-alaikum. Thank you, and yes, please,” the man said. Tongali nodded to his secretary, who departed and closed the door.
“Welcome back,” said Tongali.
“Thank you, Prime Minister. How is your family?”
“They are well. And yours?” The secretary entered again, carrying a tray. She carefully set out tea and a plate of dates before departing.
Tongali poured the beverage for each. “To your health.”
“And to yours,” answered al-Raziq as they sipped the tea. The two men made small talk for a few minutes, as expected in these situations.
Once that had been dispensed with, Tongali asked, “I understand you recently traveled to Cairo.”
“Yes,” answered al-Raziq. “I was called to speak with the Council of Elders. They are very concerned about the Eden situation in your southern region. Of course we respect the sovereignty of your nation, but these abominations are a danger to all of us. I thought we had agreed that it was best to be rid of them.”
Tongali nodded. “We were in the process of handling the situation. As you know, we collected all the Edens and shipped them to a remote location where they could be dealt with quietly.”
“Yet they still have not been dealt with, according to the reports I am getting,” said al-Raziq, biting delicately into a date.
Tongali shifted uncomfortably in his chair. “They have escaped to a nearby mountain and refuse to come down. Rest assured they are not going anywhere; we have them surrounded. We are working on several potential plans to resolve the situation.”
“Escaped?” asked al-Raziq, shaking his head. “That will be hard for my government to accept. How do thousands of refugees, many of them women and children, escape from a camp guarded by the military? I of course believe you, but my leaders may only be able to come to the conclusion that your people helped them escape. Or perhaps you are claiming incompetence?” The Caliphate man’s eyes bored into those of the Prime Minister.
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