“That sounds quite acceptable.”
“Where are your warehouses located?”
Kagame shook a finger at Mitchell. “Please, Captain, don’t take me for a fool. Interpol would pay a pretty penny for that information. I’ll have one of my men come by tomorrow, and he can escort you to where my ivory is stored. Unfortunately, you’ll have to be blindfolded for the trip, until I feel I can trust you and your people.”
“Sure, if that’s what it takes.”
“Until tomorrow, Captain,” said Kagame, giving a long, lustful glance toward Dawn.
Mitchell walked to the open shed doors, and watched Kagame and his men leave. Once the iron gate was locked, he turned to face his friends and collapsed onto a box. “Oh, my God, that was close.”
“Where did you get all that stuff on Afghanistan?” asked Jackson.
“Right out of thin air. I was making it all up as I went along.”
“What if he goes and checks your story?” asked Dawn.
“Let him,” said Mitchell. “It’s the truth, Afghanistan is already a major drug route. All I did was substitute opium with ivory.”
“What about his offer to inspect his ivory?” asked Jackson.
“I’m hoping to be out of here tomorrow. The abandoned bioweapons plant is maybe an hour’s drive from here. If we were to leave just before dawn, we could conceivably be on our way south before ten in the morning.”
“If we don’t go and examine the ivory, Kagame is going to get suspicious, and Omar is the one who will pay,” said Dawn.
“Damn,” muttered Mitchell. “We have two options open to us. We head out before dawn, inspect the plant, and get back before Kagame sends for us. Or we split the team, and some go to the plant, while the others remain here to go inspect the ivory.”
“I don’t like the idea of splitting up the team up,’ said Jackson. “I vote for the first option.”
“I’m okay representing us,” said Dawn. “After all, I’m supposed to be the money.”
Mitchell hummed and hawed. “I don’t know. What would our story be if we split up the team?”
“Airfields,” said Dawn. “I could say you went to look for viable landing strips for the cargo planes you intend to use to smuggle the ivory out of the country.”
“That might work,” mused Mitchell.
“I’ll be okay,” said Dawn.
“You win. Just don’t make me regret this,” said Mitchell, handing Dawn a miniaturized GPS device. “With this, Nate and I will be able to track you to within a meter of where you’re standing.”
Dawn slid the coin-sized tracker into her wallet. “Done.”
“I doubt I’ll get much rest now,” said Mitchell. “Time to rig up the Rover for cross-country traveling.”
“I’ll join you,” said Jackson.
“What about me?” asked Artan.
Mitchell laid his hand on the young boy’s shoulder. “You’re staying here with Omar. It’s for your own good. Remember what your sister said; the less you know, the better off you’ll be.”
Artan lowered his head.
“Buck up,” said Jackson. “Come this time tomorrow, we may be driving for our lives.”
“What about me?” asked Omar.
“If things take a turn for the worse, you’re coming with us,” said Mitchell.
Jackson leaned over. “Ryan, you do realize that nothing ever goes our way?”
“Then let’s hope Omar’s packed when we get back tomorrow.”
31
Kagame walked into his air-conditioned office and switched the light on. He poured himself a tall glass of scotch and took a seat at his desk. On the wall behind his desk were his commissioning scroll and his certificate from the Royal Military academy in Sandhurst, England; reminders of a time when he had been an officer in the Ugandan Army, before being thrown out and forced to make his living as a warlord. He looked up a number and dialed it on his satphone.
“Yes,” said the man on the other end of the call.
“Krasimir, remember when you asked me to tell you if any suspicious people came snooping around my territory?”
“I do,” replied Dimov.
“Tonight, a team of foreigners arrived unannounced, so I took it upon myself to check them out.”
“And?”
“They’re carrying Canadian passports, but I think the two men are Americans, and the blonde-haired woman with them seems to be European. I never heard her speak, but she looks like she comes from there.”
“The men. Describe the men.”
“One is white, and the other is black.”
“The black man, is he bald and slightly overweight?”
“How did you know that?”
“His partner is in good shape with brown hair and blue-gray eyes?”
Kagame shook his head, his surprise growing. “How did you know that?”
“Because they’ve been snooping around where they shouldn’t be. Where are they now?”
“At a mechanic’s place a few kilometers from my house. Why?”
“Round up all the men you can, go there, and kill them. If you do this for me, I’ll let certain people know that you helped rid them of two possible threats.”
Kagame liked what he heard. “Consider them dead.”
“No!” snapped Dimov. “Words won’t do. I won’t rest until you send me confirmation of their deaths.”
“Of course. I meant we’ll get on this right away.”
“Mister Kagame, have they gone anywhere near Site Charlie?”
“Not to the best of my knowledge.”
“Whatever lie they told you was just a ruse to get you to drop your guard while they sneak off and explore Site Charlie. Make sure they don’t.”
“I’ll get back to you as soon as I can with evidence of their deaths.” Kagame hung up. With a blistering slap, he sent his phone flying against the wall, shattering it. “Those arrogant fools think they can make a fool out of me,” said Kagame aloud. “You had best pray that you die before my lions get to gnaw on your insides.”
The door to his office was hurled open. A musclebound man in a camouflage uniform with a bull neck stood there. He had a pistol in his hand. “Are you all right, sir?”
“Yes.”
“I thought I heard—”
“You heard nothing!” barked Kagame, cutting off his bodyguard. “Rouse the men from their beds, and get them loaded into the trucks. We’ve got some foreigners to kill.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Sergeant Odongo, I want this to be done by the book. I don’t want anyone to escape from this trap.”
Odongo smiled like a shark about to eat its prey. “You can count on me, sir.”
Kagame waved his hand dismissively. “Get the men into the trucks.”
The sergeant nodded and spun on his heel, yelling at his men to get ready.
If all went to plan, thought Kagame, it was going to be a bloodbath.
32
Mitchell tied down a full jerry can of gasoline to the back of the Rover, and pulled on it to make sure it wouldn’t come loose during their trip. The vehicle’s detachable roof lay propped up against the shed.
A phone rang in Omar’s house. Moments later, Omar ran into the courtyard, his eyes wide. “A friend called. Kagame’s coming back with men.”
In an instant, the game had changed. Mitchell looked over at Jackson. “Get everyone up. We’re leaving.”
Omar looked around. His body was shaking from his head to his toes.
Mitchell patted the young man on the back. “Get in the Rover.”
Omar nodded and leaped into the back.
Artan and Dawn tossed their bags into the vehicle and jumped in. Just before he joined his colleagues, Jackson spotted a couple bottles of acetylene sitting outside of the shed. He opened the valves on both tanks, and laid them down on the ground.
Mitchell ran to the closed gate and opened it enough so he could peer outside. In the distance was a column of truck
s coming their way. At the other end of the town sat two Jeeps. Heavily armed mercenaries were rushing to build a barricade to stop them from escaping. Mitchell kicked the gate wide open and dashed back to the Rover.
“I’ll drive,” said Jackson, nudging Artan out of his seat.
Mitchell pulled back on his AK’s charging lever, loading a round into the chamber. He glanced over his shoulder at Dawn. “Ready?”
She nodded and flipped the safety lever on her AK to fully automatic.
“Go straight at them,” said Mitchell to his friend. Jackson nodded and jammed his foot down on the gas pedal. With rust spots all over the Rover’s frame, it may have looked like it had seen better days, but Artan was a gifted mechanic. The vehicle’s engine was finely tuned, with more horsepower than any of Kagame’s trucks. With sand flying up behind the Rover, it tore out of the compound. Jackson spun the wheel around in his hands, and aimed straight down the dirt road at the onrushing trucks.
With buildings and the occasional car parked on either side of the road, there was little room to maneuver. Like a medieval knight, the Rover increased its speed and charged at the lead truck in the convoy.
“Sergeant, I don’t think they’re going to stop,” said the truck driver to Odongo.
The warrior leaned forward in his seat. It was madness. The people in the Rover couldn’t expect to survive a head-on collision with their two and a half ton truck. He had them. “Speed up.”
“Sergeant?”
“I said, speed up.”
The youthful driver gulped and pressed down on the accelerator.
With only seconds left before they collided Mitchell pushed down the vehicle’s windshield, brought up his AK, and took aim at the cab of the truck. At the same time, Jackson flipped the Rover’s headlights to high beam, blinding the driver. Mitchell pulled back on the trigger, spraying a deadly fusillade of bullets into the men in the cab.
The driver died instantly, struck in the chest. He slumped over his wheel, turning it away from the Rover and toward a parked car. With a loud crunch, the truck plowed straight into the old car, crushing it.
Jackson saw an opening, swerved slightly to the right, and sped past the next truck in line. A flimsy, wooden cigarette stand on the side of the road crunched into pieces under the Rover’s tires. Jackson kept his foot on the gas as he spun the wheel in his hands and raced back onto the road, barely missing the next vehicle in the convoy.
Mitchell and Dawn knelt on their seats, firing short bursts into every truck and Jeep they passed. Panic took over as the warlord’s people saw what was happening and rushed to get off the road. They didn’t care what they smashed into, as long as they got out of the Rover’s deadly line of fire.
“Watch out!” yelled Kagame as the Rover sped past them. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the blonde woman take a shot at his vehicle and heard bullets ricochet off the side of his armored Hummer.
The driver swerved to avoid the Rover only to strike the side of a truck. The Hummer bounced off the truck and collided with the rear of a stationary vehicle. Neither men wore their seat belts and flew forward on impact. The last thing Kagame saw before he crashed into the windshield and blacked out were the red taillights of the truck they had just hit.
“Jeep!” hollered Jackson.
Mitchell spun around in his seat. A Jeep with a machine gun mounted to its roll bar was right in front of them. The vehicle was so close he didn’t have time to aim. Mitchell pulled back on the trigger and sprayed bullets at the Jeep. The mercenaries’ machine gunner fired likewise. A stream of bullets flew at the Rover. Mitchell flinched as a sharp, burning sensation stung his cheek. The sound of bullets striking their vehicle filled Mitchell’s ears. Someone cried out in pain.
The action on Mitchell’s AK stayed back. His magazine was empty.
“Hang on!” yelled Jackson, turning the wheel slightly. A split-second later, with the weight of his Rover and the velocity behind it, Jackson hit the Jeep on the passenger’s side, sending it spinning like a top until it hit the front of a truck and came to a jarring halt.
“Drive it like you stole it,” said Mitchell, seeing the road ahead was clear.
Jackson grinned and jammed his foot down on the accelerator as he hurriedly shifted gears.
“Anyone hurt back there?” asked Mitchell, turning in his seat to look behind him. Artan held Omar in his arms, while Dawn pushed a blood-soaked rag on his neck, trying to stop the blood from spurting out of his wound.
“Where’s the first aid kit?” asked Dawn.
“In the camera supplies box,” replied Mitchell. First aid or not, without a trauma surgeon, Mitchell knew Omar was going to die.
“What’s going on?” Jackson asked.
“Omar’s been hit,” replied Mitchell. “He’s not going to make it.”
“Should I pull over?”
“No. We need to put some distance between ourselves and Kagame’s men.” The words felt like a betrayal. Omar had risked all for them, and he now lay in the back of the Rover, bleeding to death. There was nothing any of them could have done to save him, yet it pained him not to try.
“Ryan, you’ve been hit, too.”
“Where?”
“Your left cheek must have been grazed, you’ve got blood all down the side of your face.”
Mitchell recalled the pain and reached over to feel where he’d been hit. The skin was tender, but not overly so. He looked at his fingers and saw they were covered in blood. Mitchell took a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped it around the wound, trying to clean up the mess. It wasn’t even one in the morning. Mitchell let out a tired sigh. It was going to be a long day, indeed.
“Sir! Sir, are you all right?” asked a mercenary soldier, helping Kagame to sit up.
The world was black, and his head hurt like hell. Kagame tried to open his eyes, but couldn’t.
“Hold still, sir,” said the mercenary, as he poured some water over Kagame’s eyes to wash away the blood.
Kagame forced his eyes open, and saw a slender rebel standing next to him. He recognized the man as one of his bush medics. “Thank you, Samuel.”
“Sir, you’ve got a concussion and a nasty cut on the side of your head. Please don’t try to get out of your vehicle until I see to some of the other wounded men.”
The throbbing pain in Kagame’s head made him wince each time his heart beat. “Sergeant Odongo?”
“He’s dead, along with five other men,” reported Samuel. “There are a dozen wounded, as well. Most have broken bones from the pileup we had after that Rover fired on us.”
The fog in Kagame’s mind slowly cleared. He glanced over at his driver. The young man lay half in and half out of the Hummer’s shattered windshield. “Samuel, find the nearest sergeant and have him secure that mechanic’s house, and then have him reorganize what we have left still able to work. I want to be on the move as soon as possible.”
“Yes, sir, but you need your rest.”
“I need to catch those bastards, or I’m a dead man. Now hurry and pass along my orders.”
Two rebel soldiers moved to the open gate and peered inside. The courtyard was empty. One of the men pointed at the shed. The other mercenary nodded his understanding. The lead rebel held up three fingers and brought them down one by one. The instant the countdown ended, they ran inside, firing their weapons from the hips as they charged the shed. Bullets tore through the flimsy wooden shed, poking holes in it and shattering the glass windows.
They stopped outside the open door. The head rebel grabbed hold of a grenade, removed the safety clip, and pulled out the safety pin. He tossed the grenade inside and dove for the floor. A faint whiff of garlic hung in the air. The mercenary looked over and spotted the two bottles of acetylene lying on the ground.
“Crap,” muttered the man, just as the grenade exploded, igniting the acetylene gas that had built up in the shed. A brilliant red fireball engulfed the shed and the two hapless rebels caught out in the open. The fire ra
pidly spread to the other fuels and chemicals Omar stored in his workshop. Explosions rocked the night as flames engulfed Omar’s home and spread to the nearby residences.
People ran to fight the fire. For many, it was as if the devil had come to take them all to hell.
33
“Pull over, Nate,” said Mitchell.
Jackson slowed their Rover down, and brought it to a stop under a tall acacia tree.
Mitchell had waited almost thirty minutes, before deciding to deal with the aftermath of the firefight. He got out of his seat and looked over at Artan, still holding Omar’s lifeless body in his arms. Mitchell switched on his flashlight and clenched his jaw. There was blood everywhere. “Everyone out,” he ordered.
Dawn helped Artan to move Omar’s body, while Mitchell went to the back of the Rover, grabbed a jerry can full of water, and doused the seats, washing away the blood the best he could.
“What are we going to do?” asked Artan, his eyes filled with tears. “Omar is a Muslim. His remains need to be cared for properly and buried within twenty-four hours.”
“Don’t worry, I had no intention of just leaving his body on the side of the road,” said Mitchell, trying to comfort Artan.
“I think he has relatives in a village not too far from here. We could leave his body with them. I know they’d look after him.”
Mitchell looked over at Jackson. His friend nodded. “Okay, let’s get moving again and see to Omar’s remains. After that, it’s full speed to the bioweapons plant.”
The time spent handing Omar over to his relatives felt like an eternity to Mitchell. They’d given Kagame a bloody nose, but he’d be back, and madder than hell this time. A gift of one of the Rover’s spare jerry cans helped smooth things over with the destitute farmers. Mitchell paused for a second and looked up. With almost no light coming from the countryside, the night sky was crystal clear. Millions of stars filled the heavens. It was a relaxing and peaceful juxtaposition to the situation he had found himself in. He hauled himself back onto his seat, and pointed down the road. Within seconds, the Rover sped off like a cheetah.
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