was done with them.
Two of the men remained outside the hut while the others went on to continue ransacking the small village to a chorus of screams and rifle fire.
“I think we’re going to be okay,” Mercer whispered, shuffling across the dirt floor so he could lean next to Cali. Their clothes were soaked, and despite the tropical heat he could feel her shivering.
“Are you out of your mind?” she hissed, her eyes wide. “In an hour or two you’re going to be shot and I’m going to be raped to death.”
“No, listen to me. I don’t think we’re alone. The kid who fell into the mine, he’d been shot in the back and the second guerilla who went down just before we reached the trench, I don’t think I hit him. I think there’s another force out there who took them out, a rival faction or maybe government troops.”
“I’d like to think so,” she said in return, “but doesn’t it make a little more sense that they were shot by their own men? Please be quiet and let me think for a second.”
Cali didn’t get her second. Caribe Dayce wedged his considerable bulk into the thatched hut, seemingly dropping its temperature by ten degrees just with his presence. He didn’t remove his sunglasses in the dim recess of the rondavel. The clouds of smoke wafting from his cigar masked the stench of abject poverty.
Blood dribbled from the bottom of his knife scabbard, forming a black pool in the dirt as he hunkered down to stare at his seated captives.
“The CIA must not think too much of me to send just two of you, and one is a woman.” Dayce spoke slowly in English with a deep, commanding voice.
“We aren’t from the CIA,” Cali said before Mercer could buy a little time by replying in French. “I am from the Centers for Disease Control. The CDC.”
“Ah,” Dayce said as if he’d heard of the organization. “That is the arm of the CIA that controls disease and spreads it among the people of Africa by pretending to vaccinate our children.”
“No. It is not part of the CIA,” Cali replied hotly. “I’m here to prevent the spread of disease. I hope to save your children.”
He casually backhanded her. Mercer stiffened and Dayce’s enormous pistol was suddenly pressed between his eyes. “Next lie I use my fist. You are here to spread AIDS and to give me AIDS, like how the CIA tried to kill Brother Fidel by overwhelming Cuba with pigs.”
It took Mercer a moment to realize Dayce’s warped sense of history had led him to believe the Bay of Pigs invasion was quite literally an invasion by a bunch of pigs. In another time and place he would have laughed.
“You are assassins sent to kill me and end my revolution.” He switched his attention back to Cali. “You carry the disease, yes? I am supposed to want you because you are white? And when we are done you will tell me I have the Slim.”
“Yes.” Cali scoffed in a display of bravado or idiocy. “We’re here to assassinate you with a disease that takes years to kill.”
“And you.” He turned back to Mercer, never once lessening the pressure of the gun between his eyes. “What disease do you carry?”
At that moment Mercer saw a white man pass by the rondavel’s open door. He was dressed for combat and carried a machine pistol slung under his arm. He moved with an easy professional grace, almost like a shadow in the smoke of burning huts. He had to be from the UN, one of the Belgian soldiers on guard in Kivu sent north to hasten the evacuation of the region. And if there was one there had to be more. Mercer swiveled his eyes back to Caribe Dayce and kept all trace of emotion from his voice. “Optimism.”
The African guerilla leader rocked back on his heels and laughed. “That is something that you can’t spread in Africa.”
“I know.”
Dayce got to his feet, remaining in a stooped position because the hut wasn’t tall enough. He holstered his sidearm. “I think we will not take chances with the two of you. I decree that you are CIA spies and sentence you to death. Execution is at sundown.”
“Did you see him?” Mercer asked as soon as Dacye had walked out of earshot.
Tension ran from Cali so her body sagged against his. “Yes, Jesus, I did! Who is he?”
“I think he’s a UN peacekeeper and he won’t be the only one. They must be getting into position. Get ready to bolt as soon as they attack. Can you get your hands free?”
“I can’t even feel my hands.”
“Doesn’t matter. As soon as they attack we’ll kick out the back of the hut and drop straight for the river. The truck’s only a mile downstream. All we need is three minutes’ head start and we’re gone.”
They crawled to the back of the hut and braced their feet against the wall. One or two good kicks would likely knock the entire structure down. The tall riverbank was only a couple of yards beyond the hut. For the first minutes Mercer felt adrenaline sing in his veins as he waited for the inevitable assault. But after five his body relaxed as his mind began to wander. The UN soldiers had to have seen their capture. They wouldn’t wait until the last minute before attempting an attack. Granted they were outnumbered, but Mercer had taken out a half dozen rebels and he had nowhere near their combat training. More experience maybe, but not training. Even if they didn’t attack Dayce’s entire force, they must know where he and Cali were being held and could rescue them.
After another couple of minutes Cali pushed back to a sitting position, her lower lip quivering slightly. “We’re wrong.”
“You can’t be sure.”
She composed herself and gave him a wry smile while mimicking Caribe Dayce’s voice. “You can’t spread optimism in Africa.” She looked at him levelly. “If there really is a UN force out there, they’ll wait until after sundown to attack. That’s what I would do in their position, making it a bit late for us.”
Her easy grasp of military tactics was at odds with what she’d told him about herself. Again Mercer wondered if she’d been in the military. “Who are you?”
“I told you. I’m with the CDC.”
“And before that how long were you in the army?”
“What makes you think…”
“No one who hasn’t seen combat is as calm as you.”
She looked away. “I was captured by Sunni insurgents in Baghdad in 2005. They couldn’t pull a Jessica Lynch for me because no one knew I was missing.”
“What were you doing there?”
“Medic in the National Guard. I got separated from my unit just before they ran into an ambush. It took three days for our guys to recover our Humvee and realize mine wasn’t one of the four burned bodies. Another five days passed before Special Forces got me out.”
Mercer was about to ask why the media never picked up the story, but he stopped himself. He imagined that military censors quashed it. The reasons would forever be locked in a file someplace and in her heart.
A tense silence filled the hut. Even the village had gone quiet.
“I wasn’t raped,” Cali said softly after a minute.
“I’m sorry?”
“I said I wasn’t raped. I just wanted you to know. I’m scared shitless right now but the Iraqis didn’t touch me and I’m relieved that Dayce’s men won’t get to me either.”
“I’m grateful for that too,” was all Mercer could think to say.
Although it put his wrist in an awkward position, he reached out as much as the binds would allow and took Cali’s hand. She returned the grip and together they waited for a rescue that seemed less likely with each passing second.
A half hour before the sun set on the overcast day, the final flicker of hope vanished when the white soldier they had seen crossing the camp suddenly stepped into the hut. In the glow of the lantern he carried, they could see he was as large as Caribe Dayce and equally muscled. His features were Eastern European, with thinning blond hair and thick, slack lips. One of his eyes was hidden by a black patch that couldn’t cover all of a scar that ran from his temple to his nose. His other eye was watery blue and small, but held dark malevolence. Whatever had taken his eye had damaged the tear ducts because the patch was moist and he wiped at it with a finger absently as he regarded the two prisoners.
Mercer knew the type. He’d even run across a few. The man was Special Forces from the former Warsaw
