“I see. What’s your situation now?”
“We’re fine.”
“Really?”
Reaper wasn’t sure, but to her, Spooky sounded genuinely surprised. “Really. He tried to give us some unstable demo, and, well, what can I say? Seems like it accidentally blew his warehouse all to hell.”
“Accidentally?”
“Accidentally on purpose, maybe.” Reaper laughed, deliberately. “Don’t sound so disappointed, Spooky. I’m starting to wonder if you want us to succeed or not.”
“Of course I want you to succeed.”
“Then I’ll expect to see fresh intel in the next databurst.”
“Naturally. Are the locals after you?” asked Spooky. “Are you on the run?”
“No. We’re good...if you hold up your end.”
“Why are you questioning me?”
Reaper chuckled grimly. “Your ops usually go like clockwork, Spooky, and you don’t suffer fools gladly. Yet, you saddled me with people I don’t want, and the moment we arrive here, things start going south. A suspicious woman might wonder. She might even dial a different number with this satphone and talk to Markis.”
“I assure you, you’ll get all the support I can give. Nguyen out.” The call dropped.
“I take it that didn’t go well,” said Shortfuse from her elbow.
“Wasn’t as bad as all that.” Reaper walked away from the man and, after checking to make sure no one was obviously eavesdropping, called that other number.
“Alpha Two,” came the woman’s voice on the other end. “I show secure.”
“Millie, it’s Repeth. I need to talk to the chairman.”
“He’s in a meeting right now, Jill.”
“Get him out. I don’t care who he’s with. Five minutes.”
Reaper heard a sigh. “Okay.”
A moment later, Daniel Markis said, “Yes, Jill. What can I do for you?”
“Sorry to bother you, sir, but I wanted you to know. Our contacts here in Nairobi tried to screw us. Things got bloody, but we’re fine and on schedule.”
“Why talk to me? This is Spooky’s op.”
“Have you even known one of Spooky’s ops to go sideways in a big way? Or rather, for one of his people to cross him with impunity?”
Reaper listened to silence for a long moment. Finally, Markis said, “I see. You think he hung you out to dry?”
“Not completely. I think he tried to screw things up so badly we’d fail without actually intending to kill us. I’m not sure why, and I could be wrong, but I wanted you to know what happened, just in case.”
“I understand. Carry on, Jill. Complete your mission. I’ll put the screws to Spooky so he can’t mistake my meaning.”
“Thank you, sir.” She hung up and walked back to the truck.
“What now?” Hawkeye asked.
Reaper thought for a few seconds, and then hopped into the back of the truck. “Listen up, everyone,” she said, making sure the window to the cab was open. “We’re still a go. We have all our gear, and our wounds will heal by the time we get close to the target area. It’s five hundred miles or so to the border, ten or twelve hours on this highway if we’re lucky. We’ll rotate drivers and rest as we go. Let’s get moving.”
“What if we get stopped?” Hound Dog said. “We were supposed to have Kenyan guides. None of us knows how to deal with the locals – who to bribe or whatever. One checkpoint and we’re toast. Our cover is useless with all this hardware we’re carrying. It’s not like we can fight our way out of the entire country. Not if the Kenyan cops and Army is after us. I say we ditch all this stuff, head for the airport and be on the next plane smokin’.”
“What do the rest of you think?” Reaper asked. “We’re all volunteers here. Anyone got anything else to say?”
“What about all those Edens we’re supposed to help rescue?” asked Crash. “We gonna just let them down?”
Reaper nodded. “Yeah, that’s the flip side. I’m staying, but I don’t want anyone to eat a bullet out of guilt if they walk away from this and the Edens all die. You need to make sure it’s a call you can live with.”
“I say we pull the plug,” said Hound Dog.
“Shut up, dude,” Tarzan said. “We already know what you think. I’m with Reaper.”
“Is there a backup plan?” asked Hawkeye. “If we pull out, is there another team waiting to go in and save the Edens?”
“I don’t know for sure,” said Reaper, “but I don’t think so. I’m pretty sure we’re it.”
“Whatever we decide, it needs to be quick,” said Shortfuse. “Those Edens are running out of time.”
Reaper nodded. “Like I said, I’m going on. Anyone who doesn’t want to, sanitize yourself of anything incriminating and get out. You can hitchhike back to the airport.” She stared at Hound Dog until eventually he shook his head. “Okay then.”
“I’ll go wherever you go, Boss,” Shortfuse piped up.
Reaper bit the inside of her cheek to keep from smiling. Shortfuse obviously had a crush on her. She turned to C3PO, the only black man, and said, “Sit up front and drive. You speak Swahili, right? Maybe you can talk your way past any trouble.”
He nodded, and they climbed into the cab. Soon, they were rolling down the A2 highway at speed while those in the rear took the opportunity to sleep.
“So tell me how you learned to speak all these languages,” Reaper said, making conversation. She’d seen C3PO’s file, but never simply chatted with the man.
“My father was a diplomat. We lived throughout Africa growing up and I’ve always had a knack for languages.”
“That’s why your handle is C3PO,” said Reaper with a wink.
“Yes?” he said. “Why am I called that? No one will tell me.”
“It’s a tradition that you don’t pick your nickname, and you have to figure it out for yourself.”
“Please. I would really like to know.”
Reaper sighed and took pity on the earnest man. “I’ll give you a hint. The movie? Star Wars?”
“I have never seen this movie,” he said. “Is there a man in it who speaks many languages?”
Reaper chuckled. “In a sense. When this is over, be sure you see it.”
“Is it a good one?”
Reaper nodded solemnly. “The best.”
They rode in silence for a time, and Reaper took the opportunity to eat. Her eye itched abominably, but Crash had said the damage was serious enough that it might take days to heal fully, so she left it alone.
“We should really get rid of this lovely truck,” C3PO said. “If there is a report, it will make us a target.”
“You’re right. What do you suggest?”
“We should change to something local.”
“Buy another truck?”
C3PO laughed. “Not exactly. Trust me. I lived in Ethiopia for several years. Kenya is enough like it.”
Reaper stared at the man’s smiling ebony face, and then said, “All right.”
“This town looks big enough.” He took the next turn. “Please tell everyone to put all weapons out of sight.”
Reaper passed on the instructions, and soon everyone had their guns packed inside their bags. They rode through the outskirts of town and into the town center traffic. The density of pedestrians increased with every foot they traveled. C3PO leaned out the window and spoke with several people on the sidewalk, and then turned down a side street they indicated.
“What was that about?” Reaper asked.
“I asked them where trucks were available,” said C3PO. “As I expected, there is a trading lot.”
“Trading lot?”
“You will see.”
After several blocks, they debouched into a large open area where dozens of trucks and perhaps hundreds of vehicles were parked haphazardly, with many people milling about. C3PO drove slowly through the crowd, and no one seemed to think anything of it. Others did the same, creating a slow-motion chaos.
Food stands and merchants of all sorts hawked their wares, but the real action was obviously in the sales of vehicles. Men haggled and dickered with fists full of cash, arguing good-naturedly and with broad smiles, making deals.
“There,” C3PO said, aiming the Mercedes toward a line of mid-size cargo trucks comparable to their own. “One of those will do. Stay in the cab,” he said to her. “Women do not buy vehicles here, especially white women.”
“Whatever you say, Bwana,” Reaper replied with a grin and a wave.
After fifteen minutes, C3PO came back with an older man, who had a broad smile on his face. “This is Petros. I’ve traded our truck for his. Very easy, very good deal for him, since this Mercedes is worth three times the old Volvo I have acquired.” He held up a set of keys. “Follow me.”
“All right, everyone follow C3PO!” Reaper called. “Bring everything, and I mean everything!”
The new owner climbed in the cab of the Mercedes as soon as it was vacated and started the truck, running his hands over the new dashboard and undamaged seats.
“What did he say about the bullet holes?” Reaper asked as she carried her bag to the new ride.
“He did not ask. He knows the truck is probably stolen, and by tomorrow it will be repaired, repainted and have new number plates on it. No worries.”
“Yeah, hakuna matada.”
C3PO looked at Reaper in surprise. “I did not know you speak Swahili.”
She stared at him. “Lion King?”
“What is that?”
“Didn’t they have any movies when you were growing up?”
“My father wanted us to read books, so we saw few movies as children.”
Reaper shook her head. “Never mind.”
When they’d loaded the ten-year-old Volvo truck C3PO had acquired, he turned to Reaper. “Petros has kindly provided his nephew Hanif to drive us.” He waved a younger man, dressed in threadbare trousers and a Bulls basketball jersey, over to them, shaking his hand vigorously. “With our money for bribes, he should be able to get us through.”
Reaper sighed. “Okay. Just means we’ll need to ditch him somewhere along the way, but we’ll probably draw less attention.”
C3PO hopped into the passenger seat and Hanif took the wheel. Soon, they were back on the highway. The Kenyan played the radio loud while dancing and singing in the seat.
“At least one of us isn’t worried,” said Reaper from her position at the cab’s back window. She rolled over to lie on the floor of the truck bed, pillowing her head on her gear bag.
She awoke when Hanif and C3PO stopped to refuel the truck. Their GPS told her they were only two hundred miles from the Kenyan-Ethiopian border. Another call to Spooky confirmed the plan was still on schedule.
Chapter 26
Misgana sat on a rock and looked out over the camp. He was hungry and tired. From intel and probes they knew there were holes in the perimeter surrounding them, but where would they even go if they left the mountain?
We need the FC to make good on their promise, thought Misgana. Soon.
A truck caught his eye. It had advanced to near the front edge of the Ethiopian perimeter and vehicles rarely came that far forward. It sat at the checkpoint for a time and then rushed ahead as the guard fell back on the ground. The truck burst through the barricade and strained up the steep mountain road toward them. Misgana could see Ethiopians shooting at the truck as it sped away from them.
He could also hear his own men begin to shoot at the vehicle.
Could this be the FC help we’ve been waiting for?
Misgana took off running down the hillside. “Stop! Stop shooting! They’re friends!”
His men looked at him as if he were crazy, but slowly stopped their firing. Misgana continued to run down the defensive line, yelling for them to stop. By the time the shooting ceased, the truck had rolled to a halt a hundred yards down the hill, steam pouring from the front radiator grill.
Misgana rushed down toward the truck and his men followed. They jerked open the doors on each side and dragged two men out. Misgana noticed that the white man actually had a pistol in his hand, but didn’t use it. The starving and demoralized Edens pressed them both to the ground and screamed at them.
“Stop!” said Misgana. “These men obviously risked their lives to get here.”
“And why would anyone do that?” asked one of the Edens,
“They’ve been sent here to kill us, Captain!” said another.
“Maybe that truck is a giant bomb sent to wipe us all out,” said a third.
At this, everyone froze, looking at each other and the truck.
“I think they would have set it off by now if that were their intention.” said Misgana,
“We don’t know that though,” mumbled one.
Misgana thought for a moment. From his experience working in conflicts around east Africa, suicide bombers seldom brought along partners. “Maybe we should just look in the back and see what they have. I doubt it’s a bomb.”
“Be careful, Captain,” someone said.
The men moved away from the vehicle, yelling for all to stand back and dragging the two men from the truck with them.
With some difficulty Misgana was able to work loose the locking bolt on the rusty tailgate. Freed, the gate swung down with a loud slam, making people gathered farther up the hill jump. He peered into the dark interior of the truck’s covered bed.
Misgana began to laugh. “I think we can let our visitors up.”
“Why?” asked one of the men.
“Because they sure weren’t sent by the Ethiopian army.”
“How do you know?”
Misgana waved them forward. “Come look.”
The skittish defenders gathered around the truck and peered into the darkness; even so, they did not understand, so Misgana climbed up into the bed of the truck and started handing down cardboard case after cardboard case. “Take these up to the caves,” he said with a smile.
The men looked at the boxes in confusion. “What is it?”
“They’re military rations,” Misgana explained. “This truck is filled with food, lots of it.” He climbed down.
Smiles slowly spread across their faces as they realized their children and wives would not be hungry that night. They started to laugh and cheer. Then they jumped and chanted songs in celebration.
The two released men walked up to Misgana. The Ethiopian with the facial scars introduced himself as Zinabu and his fierce-looking white friend as Skull.
“Are you two from the FC?” Misgana asked, and Zinabu translated.
Skull responded through his friend, “Yes. We’re the cavalry.”
Misgana didn’t understand, but the one named Skull seemed amused, so he laughed as well.
Help has finally come, thought Misgana. He quietly said a prayer of thanks.
Chapter 27
The truck containing Reaper’s team drove through the night and neared the border the next morning, where she saw a group of Kenyan soldiers. She could also see a camp ahead with military vehicles and a few helicopters parked in a nearby field. Lines of civilian trucks and semis sat idling or shut down on the side of the road, waiting to cross. Soldiers patrolled on foot between, ensuring no one jumped the line.
Hanif pulled in behind the other trucks and turned off the engine.
“What’s this about, Hanif?” Reaper asked.
“Do not know,” he answered. “Driven here many times. Never army here.”
“I think we need some information,” said Hawkeye. “I get the distinct impression something’s changed since yesterday.”
Reaper replied, maintaining their thin cover for Hanif’s benefit, “Just because we’re out of contact with our news studio doesn’t mean we can’t do our jobs. We’re journalists right? Well, let’s go be journalists.” She turned to Flyboy. “Get your video camera out. You and C3PO will be with me. You too, Bunny. Come on.” She grabbed a microphone and recorder, and then fluffed her hair.
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br /> With no makeup handy, she pinched her checks and rubbed her lips to bring them some color, and told Bunny to do the same. “Smile a lot and look sexy,” she said. “Keep them distracted.”
“No problem, boss,” Bunny replied, hiking her bra up. “I’ll knock ’em dead.”
Exiting the truck, they walked toward the checkpoint, with Flyboy carrying the large, pro-style video camera on his shoulder. As she approached the soldiers there, Reaper noticed they seemed less preemptory and brusque at the sight of what appeared to be reporters, especially with the two attractive western women.
Reaper walked straight up the sergeant who appeared to be in charge of the checkpoint, smiling and putting on her friendliest manner. Through C3PO, she said, “Hello. We’re reporters from International News. What can you tell us about what is going on here? Why has the border been closed?”
The sergeant looked back and forth between Reaper and Bunny, but seemed unwilling to speak. Other soldiers nearby jabbered at him, obviously making rude jokes, until the man said something, waved and turned toward the camp.
“He says he’ll take you to his officer,” C3PO said. They nearly had to jog to keep up with him as he took them to a large tent in the center of the makeshift camp nearby.
A lean man with pressed fatigues stepped out of the tent. He smiled and ran a hand over his shaven head before walking over to them.
“My soldier tells me you are from International News,” he said in good English, smiling broadly at the two women. “Do you broadcast in Nairobi?”
“We have the capability to broadcast all over the world,” said Reaper. “Can I get your name, please? We want the viewers to be informed of the good work you’re doing out here.”
“Captain Injil,” he responded.
Reaper turned to Flyboy. “Okay let’s roll in three...two...one.” She stood to the side of Injil and faced the camera. “Today I am here at the Kenyan-Ethiopian border, where there is a large military presence.” She turned to Injil. “Tell me, Captain Injil, is the border actually closed or not?”
“Yes,” he said, obviously playing to the camera. “We are taking precautions to protect the people of Kenya.”
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