Chapter 17
The city was a bloody, Third World disaster, the two rebel groups savaging it as they tried to get at each other. There would be no winners here, only survivors who’d be left to crawl through the rubble, and probably ultimately abandon it.
Kimko hated them all, including and especially Girma, who sat behind him in the open-top jeep, AK-47 in his hands, bouncing up and down on the seat with khat-fueled excitement and adrenaline. There seemed to be no getting rid of him.
They were nearly to the warehouse when Girma leaned forward and yelled instructions to the driver. He immediately slammed on the brakes and began making a U-turn.
“Where are we going?” Kimko demanded.
“Ha-ha, we have blown up Gerard’s house,” said Girma, holding up a two-way radio. “I want to see it burn. I have heard on my radio.”
“I need to be at my meeting.”
Girma frowned. “First we see the house.”
“Damn it, Girma, I need to get there!”
Girma’s frown morphed into something more threatening. “I am in charge,” he said. “You are a salesman. We will go where I want. Then you can get your trinket.”
Kimko cursed to himself. These people were animals. Worse.
They veered through the city square where Girma had started the war the day before. The pavilion lay in a pile of rubble. The buildings on either side had been gutted by fire; there were pockmarks in the facade. Across the way, the clinic that Girma’s people had run was now destroyed; part of its front wall lay scattered along the road. But that didn’t stop the wounded from gathering there; two aides were ministering to them, overseen by a pair of fourteen- or fifteen-year-olds with Kalashnikovs.
Small fires were burning everywhere. The air smelled like burnt grass and acrid dust, mixed with cordite and the scent of burning metal. A pack of dogs ran down the street, dragging something between them.
A corpse.
They swung west, moving into a district of traditional round huts with their cone-shaped roofs. It was here that most of the tribesmen belonging to Meur-tse Meur-tskk lived. Bodies were scattered in the yards. The majority were women and children. Dead animals lay along and in the road; the driver made no effort to avoid most of them, simply speeding over the remains.
Girma, meanwhile, chewed his khat leaves.
Two men with guns stood in the street ahead, waving their arms as the jeep approached. Kimko put his hand on his holster, ready to pull the pistol out if needed.
Girma stood up, holding onto the roll bar. He raised his rifle and fired a burst in greeting.
The men ran to him, jabbering. Girma leaned forward and pointed the driver to the right.
“Too many enemies down road,” he told Kimko. “We’ll see them later. Dead.”
Chapter 18
With the Russian heading to the west of the city rather than Li Han’s house to the north, Danny decided not to commit his small force or risk the aircraft getting close to the fighting yet. He told the pilots to hold back; in the meantime he and the others would proceed to the stationmaster building and set up an ambush.
“I want to hold the Osprey off as long as I can,” he told Melissa. “It’s a straight shot for us through that field and then up the hill and over. Flash and I can get there pretty fast. Can you keep up?”
“I can keep up.”
Danny led the way at a strong trot. The circuitry in the night vision screen on his helmet could turn the dull dusk as bright as day if he wanted, but Danny found that too distracting: it looked so real that it was hard to remember it was just being synthesized by the sensors; in his opinion, that made it easier to subconsciously miss something. So he stayed with traditional night vision mode, which made it clear that he wasn’t seeing the entire picture; the difference could be critical.
When they reached a narrow dirt road on the other side of the field, Danny picked up his pace, sprinting about thirty yards to a stream that emptied into a small pond near the railroad tracks about a quarter mile away. The streambed was rocky, and he had to pick his way, glancing back every so often to check on Melissa behind him. Her breathing was labored but she was keeping pace.
“Subject jeep has stopped in residential area,” declared MY-PID.
“Why?” asked Danny.
“Insufficient data, operand uncertain,” said the Voice, getting technical on him.
“Display jeep video feed in lower screen one,” said Danny.
The image from the Global Hawk popped into the lower-left-hand side of his visor. It was grainy, magnified beyond its optimum size. Danny couldn’t make out much more than an indiscriminate crowd.
He slowed, then stopped so he could focus on the image. He was worried that Li Han was there.
“Subject identified as Milos Kimko — confirm he’s at the jeep site,” Danny told MY-PID.
“Confirmed.” A box appeared around the figure in the passenger seat of the jeep.
“Is Li Han there? Subject code-named Mao Man — is he at the jeep site?”
“Negative.”
“Confidence level?”
“Confidence level 98.3 percent,” said the computer tartly.
“Where is he?”
The building two miles east of town was highlighted.
“Confidence level?”
“Confidence level 98.2 percent,” snapped the computer.
Melissa saw Danny stop a few yards ahead. Even though she was straining, she waited until she caught up to him before slowing. She huffed for a few moments, trying to get her breath back.
“I thought you’d tire eventually,” she said to him.
He turned toward her. With the shield on his helmet down he looked like a space traveler.
“What’s that?” he asked, pushing the shield up.
“You’re tired?”
“Just checking to make sure we got the right place.”
“Do you always run to your targets?” Melissa asked. The front of her thighs were suddenly stiff. She pumped them slowly, knowing she had to keep them loose.
“If necessary.” Danny gave her a tight yet disarming smile. “Once we bring the Osprey in, the Russian will know something’s going on. If word gets to Li Han, we’ll spook him.”
“I see.”
“There are two possible buildings,” he told her. “We’re not sure which one they meant, but they’re close to each other. We’ll check them out, then set up an ambush. Ready?”
Not really, she thought, but there was no way she would admit it.
Danny set out again, this time at an easier pace. They crossed the stream and trotted down in the direction of the abandoned warehouse area.
The two buildings MY-PID had marked as the possible meeting place were located right next to the tracks.
