'No lights!' he cried even louder. 'Everyone shut their lanterns!'

Along the lake, the lanterns snapped off. But as the light in the sky grew larger and the sound became louder, Maria had a feeling they were too late.

SIXTY

Makgadikgadi Pan, Botswana Saturday, 12:45 A.M.

Seronga knew what had to be done. He had one job, one goal. To save Dhamballa. And there was really just one way to achieve it.

The Brush Viper trotted toward the caravan. He shouted now and then to get his bearings. The other Brush Vipers would shout back. The roar of the rotors was not yet strong enough to drown them out. Their voices told him where he should be headed.

Seronga's one job was to protect the future of Vodunism. That was the only place the pure heart and soul of Botswana still survived. It had to be kept alive. To do that, Seronga needed to make certain that Dhamballa was not captured or killed. That meant holding off the assault and getting Dhamballa out of here. What Seronga did not know was whether Dhamballa would agree.

Seronga reached the nearest of the boulders. Pavant and Finn arrived a few moments later.

'There are three others coming behind us,' he said as he moved past the guards. 'Let them pass.'

The men said they would.

A dozen yards beyond them, he saw the flickering of a shielded cigarette lighter. The face of Nicholas Arrons was behind it. He was the driver of the van in which Dhamballa was traveling. Seronga ran toward him. When he was a few feet away, the light flicked off. Breathing heavily from the short run, Seronga stopped by the front of the van.

'Do you hear that?' Seronga asked.

'Of course,' Arrons replied. 'A scout?' • '*

386

OP-CENTER

'Very likely,' Seronga said. 'Where is the decoy group?'

'They left the swamp double-time and caught up to us about a mile back,' Arrons replied. 'They're resting by the lake. At least, they were. I'm sure they heard the helicopter.'

'We'll have to deploy them in case we're strafed,' Seronga said.

'I ordered the rocket launchers deployed,' Arrons told him.

'No one fires unless we're fired upon,' Seronga said.

'Those were my orders,' Arrons replied.

'Where is the priest?'

'He is in the other van,' Arrons said.

'Have Terrence bring him over,' Seronga said.

'The ordeal in the swamp was difficult for him,' Arrons said. 'So was the drive here. He has not slept or eaten very much.'

'There will be time enough for that soon,' Seronga said. 'Bring him to me now.'

'Yes sir,' Arrons said.

The soldier left, and Seronga stepped to the side of the van. Though they had been speaking by radio since Dhamballa broke camp, there was something different in Arrons's voice now. It was as though he were hiding something.

Seronga knocked on the door, then pulled it open. Dhamballa was sitting cross-legged on a mat. The interior lights had been covered with duct tape. Only a faint, muddy light illuminated the inside.

Seronga bowed his head slightly. There was no formal way to greet a houngan, but Seronga felt he needed something to show his respect. He had settled upon this.

'I'm glad you are safe, Dhamballa,' Seronga said.

'What happened at the airport?' Dhamballa asked.

The beating of the rotor was getting louder. Seronga glanced back at the sky. The light was three times more brilliant than any of the stars.

'Sir, we can discuss this later,' Seronga said.

'I must know,' Dhamballa said.

The helicopter was now a steady drone. It seemed increasingly likely that the chopper had spotted them.

MISSION OF HONOR

387

'I don't know,' Seronga said. 'Pavant and I were waiting for the bishop, when someone shot him. We don't know who that was.'

Dhamballa stepped closer. He looked into Seronga's face, at his forehead, at the edges of his mouth.

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