Melissa grabbed Glat’s arm as she saw the shadow near the house thirty yards away.
It was a gun, swinging against the arm of the man as he walked toward a car.
Quickly, she pulled her guide to the side of the nearby building. The woman started to say something; paranoid, Melissa threw her hand over Glat’s mouth and hushed her.
Glat nodded that she understood.
Easing to the side of the building, Melissa dropped to her knees, then spread out along the ground, peering out around the bottom of the building. A truck had pulled to the front of a building. Two men were in the front seat. She couldn’t see anything else. It was too dark to make out their faces.
The truck started and began moving in their direction. Melissa rose to get a better view. As the vehicle passed, she caught a glimpse of the man on the passenger side in the front.
Mao Man.
Li Han.
Chapter 35
Fresh from his nap, Turk went down to check on the Tigershark.
“Pimped it out for you, Captain,” said Flash, who was pulling guard duty. “We were going to paint it pink, but we ran out of primer.”
“Pity.”
Turk reached up and put his palm on a panel just below the opening to the cockpit. The aircraft buzzed, then the forward area began to separate like a clamshell. The Tigershark did not have a canopy per se — all visuals were provided by a matrix of sensors embedded in the skin. This allowed for a much sleeker — and lower — cockpit area that was tucked into the body just in front of the wings.
“Looks a little like a sardine can,” said Flash.
“An aerodynamic sardine can,” said Turk, reaching into the cockpit and taking out the smart helmet. He put it on, made a link with the aircraft’s flight systems, then had the computer begin a preflight instrument check.
Someone knocked on the back of his helmet. Turk pulled it off. It was Boston.
“Sorry to knock on your hat, Captain.” Boston grinned. “Colonel Freah was wondering if you could talk to him for a minute.”
“Sure. Where is he?”
“Back in the Sudan. Use this.” Boston held up a sat phone. “I’ll get him for you.”
Turk put the helmet back on the seat of the Tigershark. The aircraft would perform its own self-check. Boston, meanwhile, made the connection.
“Colonel, you’re looking for me?” asked Turk, taking the phone.
“Satellite is still a few hours away,” said Danny. “We’re wondering if you can get back on station. You can leave as soon as it’s here.”
“Yeah, roger that,” said Turk. “Beats the hell out of hanging around here.”
Chapter 36
Milos Kimko eyed the driver nervously as they headed into the town. Two of Girma’s men were sitting behind him, guns ready; another pair were in the back. Traveling with them was only a hair less dangerous than traveling without them, Kimko thought. Girma was clearly becoming crazed, and his band would surely follow his lead.
The driver stopped the truck abruptly. They had reached the gas station where Li Han suggested they meet. Fortunately, it was at the southeastern end of the city, a good distance from the areas favored by both sides.
The street was empty, the station closed. Kimko debated whether to get out. The vehicle offered a modicum of protection, but it was easier to see in the dusk, making it a logical target.
Nervous energy got the better of him. He opened the door. The others hopped out with him. Instead of fanning out like proper soldiers or trained bodyguards, they clustered together, clumped near the car as he prowled near the gas pumps, looking around the shadows of the building for ambushers or lookouts.
A flask would be welcome now. A drink.
No. He would play this through, get what Li Han had to offer, and turn it into a ticket out of here.
Danny drove the Mercedes up the road leading out of town and glanced at his watch. The Tigershark wouldn’t be in range for another five minutes. At that point they could activate the bugs they had planted, and use the Whiplash system to communicate.
“Where the hell is Melissa?” grumbled Nuri. “She was supposed to meet us.”
“We’re a little early.”
“I don’t even trust that she saw Li Han.”
“Where’s the truck?”
“Still at the north end of the city.”
Danny pulled the car off the road. They expected Li Han to get on the highway at some point, then try and go south in the direction of the Brotherhood’s strongholds. The Whiplash team had loaded up in their Osprey and was en route. Once they were sure it was Li Han, Danny would order the team to prepare an ambush. They’d catch him on the road south.
If it was a false alarm, they’d go back to square one.
“Someone’s walking up the road,” said Nuri. “In our direction.”
“Melissa?”
“Can’t tell. Not enough resolution. They’re holding something — could be a gun. Pistol.”
“All right. Wait here,” said Danny, opening the car door.
“Where you going?”
“I’m going to make sure it’s not an ambush.”
Danny slipped the door closed, then trotted down the road to a small cluster of bushes. He turned around, looking at the car, then took a few steps past the brush. Whoever was coming would see the bushes and expect someone to be waiting there.
He trotted another twenty yards down the road, then went off it into the open field and lay flat. The person would be focused on the brush if not the car, and miss him completely.
His right knee complained as he folded himself onto the ground. Middle age was creeping up on him; the sins and strains of his youth were coming back to haunt him.
“Nuri?” he asked over the team radio.
“A hundred yards,” said Nuri. “I can’t tell if it’s her.”
“Call her phone,” said Danny.
Li Han stood at the edge of the roof fingering his binoculars, watching the Russian at the gas station about a half mile away. Kimko had four bodyguards with him, but they were back by his truck, useless if he was attacked from anywhere but the road. From what Li Han had seen, he’d made only the most precursory check of the area before stopping.
He was disappointed. He’d always heard that Russian intelligence agents were the best in the world. But obviously they didn’t send the best into Africa.
