Talak thought for a moment. “Perhaps there is a way … I know a man, from a village not far from there. He runs a shelter.”
Nena raised her eyebrows. “A shelter? You mean for refugees?”
The old man nodded and scratched his chin. “Of a sort, yes.”
“Haven’t these people suffered enough? Now you want them to fight for you?”
Talak smiled. “Well, miss, I did not say this was a shelter for men.”
Chapter Thirty-Two
Caine felt vibrations rattle though his bruised and battered body. He peered out from under a grass-covered tarp and watched as six massive African elephants took long slow strides down the road near Bentiu.
The road, like most of the roads he had traveled on recently, was a long unpaved line of packed sand and earth that stretched off into the rippling, heat-distorted horizon. Every step the giant animals took pounded into the dirt with a force of over five tons. One of the creatures raised its six-foot-long trunk into the air and trumpeted.
Talak and his associate, a man who went by the name of Paul, spoke to the elephants in soothing tones. They patted their legs, gently guiding the lumbering creatures down the road. Paul ran the Sudd Area Elephant Sanctuary. The large swath of protected swampland served as a safe haven for the animals. The creatures’ previous habitats had been decimated by war and poaching. The men were old army friends. Paul was keen to help out as long as Caine could assure none of the elephants would be harmed in their plan.
Caine had positioned himself one hundred and fifty yards from the road. The tarp that covered his body was hidden under a layer of reeds, grass and scrub the men had gathered from the surrounding area. The camouflaged tarp acted as a makeshift Ghillie suit. Caine was confident he could not be spotted from the road.
Cradled in his arms was the nicked, battered wood stock of a bolt action rifle. The Lee Enfield No. 5 Jungle Carbine was an antique. When Talak had pulled the canvas gun bag out of a dusty old footlocker, Caine had assumed it would hold an AK-47. Instead, Talak proudly displayed the carbine in one hand and a small cloth pouch in the other. “This rifle is not old,” Talak said when he noticed Caine’s skeptical expression. “It is like me … Classic!”
The pouch held five loads of 303 Brit, the obsolete caliber used by the British-made rifle. As far as Caine knew, the ammunition had not been used in a mass-produced firearm since the 1950s. But there was one thing he knew for certain … The antique weapon was the best he was going to find in the ruins of Kanfar.
Now he was grateful for the short-barreled, lightweight rifle. The bolt action was smooth, and the gun’s design included cutouts in the receiver body and barrel to keep the weight down. After a couple of hours lying under the heavy tarp, with the sun beating down overhead, Caine was thankful that the weapon was light. It was easy to keep the rifle sighted on the road before him.
Another low bellow rumbled through the air. The elephants' tails swished back and forth with short, rapid strikes. It was a gesture of annoyance. They were restless, uncomfortable in this foreign terrain. Caine glanced down at the glowing luminescent numbers on his watch. Beads of sweat rolled down his forehead and cheeks, but he ignored them. He lined up the simple notch sight of the rifle on a patch of road and waited. It was almost time.
According to Paul, an AHA truck had cleared border customs in the early morning. It was driving in from Uganda, in the south. The truck would turn east on this road. As the ground shook with another thundering step from the elephants, Caine saw movement on the horizon.
The tiny dot grew larger. It kicked up a cloud of dust as it moved towards them. Caine tightened his grip on the rifle. The vehicle came into view, driving through the curtain of heat and haze. He saw the familiar logo painted on the side of the light blue cargo trailer. African Hunger Alliance.
The herd of elephants blocked the truck’s passage, and the large vehicle groaned to a halt. The driver leaned on the airhorn, and a loud blast echoed through the hot air. One of the elephants trumpeted back in return, but the creatures obeyed Paul’s commands. They did not move out of the way, and even a big rig truck was not going to plow through almost forty tons of animal.
“Come on,” Caine whispered to himself. “Get your ass out of the truck.”
He needed at least one man to exit the vehicle, but both would be ideal.
The truck sounded another blast of its horn. The animals remained where they were, swaying in place. Talak raised his arms in an exaggerated shrug.
Caine was facing the passenger side of the cab. He heard a distant metal thunk as the driver opened the door. A man jumped to the ground and stepped into view, pacing between the front of the truck and the clustered elephants. Caine’s eyes narrowed. The man was Caucasian and wore grey body armor over a black polo. He waved an automatic rifle at the men and shouted in a garbled African dialect. The rifle had the distinctive bullpup design of the IWI Tavor.
Mercenaries, Caine thought. Delta Blue …
Talak and Paul argued with the man. He spoke in English when he realized they spoke his native language. Their voices were muted and distant. Caine shifted his rifle sight to a second man sitting in the passenger seat. He wore similar clothes, and wraparound sunglasses guarded his eyes from the intense sun.
The Lee Enfield was unfamiliar, and Caine knew the bolt action rifle had a reputation for a ‘wandering zero’. It could not be sighted in and reliably hit the same spot twice. He waited, hoping the man would leave the cover of the truck and present a large target. If his first shot missed, he would have to quickly eject the cartridge and line up a second shot. A head shot with this weapon was far from a sure thing.
He heard another clunk … the door was opening.
Caine held his breath.
That’s it … Go help your friend.
The second man hung from the side of the truck and raised his rifle in the air. He fired a short burst.
“Get these fucking animals out of—”
CRACK!
Caine’s rifle fired. The echo of the gunshot exploded from the brush. The second man fell from the open passenger door and collapsed to the ground. He clutched his leg and howled in pain. Blood streamed from a wound just above his knee.
Even as the gun fired, Caine was already moving. Keeping the butt of the rifle pressed against his left shoulder, his right hand shot up under the bolt, slapped it up, and pulled back. The spent shell clinked to the ground next to him as he slid the bolt forward and down, loading another 303 round.
He had already lowered the sight as the bolt locked into firing position. Settling his right hand under the barrel, he zeroed in on the fallen man’s head.
As the mercenary in the road spun around towards his fallen comrade, Caine fired again.
CRACK! The second shot rang out barely a second after the first.
The fallen merc’s body jerked, then slumped back to the ground, motionless.
The other man pivoted towards the brush where Caine was hiding. He raised his rifle and opened fire, sending a barrage of wild shots into the grass. Caine winced as a few bullets thudded into the earth next to him.
Talak and Paul crouched low as the gunfire echoed around them. At the sound of the mercenary’s automatic fire, the elephants stomped the ground and bellowed even louder. The angry beasts flapped their ears and raised their long, curved tusks in the air.
Their bellowing cries were so loud, they even drowned out the explosive gunfire. The mercenary swung around and aimed his weapon at the herd. His face was pale with panic and fear. The massive creatures stomped towards him.
At the sight of the weapon, the lead elephant emitted a bone-shaking growl and reared up on its hind legs. Thirteen feet and five tons of enraged animal loomed over the terrified man. Sunlight glinted off the pointed tips of the animal’s ivory tusks.
Caine leapt up from under the tarp and stalked towards the mercenary. He cycled another shot and fired. The bullet kicked up a puff of earth near the merc’s feet. The m
an turned again, confusion and uncertainty flashing across his terrified face. Caine saw defeat in the man’s eyes. He had hesitated, and now he was surrounded by multiple enemies. The ground shook as the massive elephant dropped back to all fours. The animal shook its head in a display of aggression.
Caine chambered another round as he moved closer to his target. He kept the rifle pointed dead straight at the man.
“On your knees, drop the weapon!”
The man hesitated. His eyes darted back and forth between the animals and Caine.
Caine moved closer. “I won’t tell you again. And if those elephants stampede, you don’t have enough ammo to take them all out.”
The elephant bellowed again, and the man muttered a curse. He knelt in the dirt and set his rifle down next to him.
“Very good. Hands on your head.” Caine nodded towards Talak. “Get the gun. Check him.”
The old man hurried over and grabbed the Tavor. He patted the mercenary down and removed a pistol and knife from the man’s tactical harness. A keyring jangled from the man’s belt. Talak tossed aside the weapons and grabbed the man’s keys.
He grinned and held them up for Caine to inspect.
Caine kept the rifle aimed at the mercenary.
“Now tie him up. Then we check the truck. Let’s see why Africa Hunger Alliance hires professional mercenaries to deliver food and water.”
Caine turned the key in the master lock and let it drop to the ground. He and Paul rolled up the heavy rear door of the trailer. They peered into the dark space. A faint buzzing sound drifted out from the dark container. As the wind around them picked up, it carried a rotting stench from the shadows inside.
He hefted himself up and stepped inside the trailer. He felt a soft fluttering brush against his face, and the buzzing grew louder. The smell of rot and decay was overpowering, and he felt bile rising in his throat.
He swatted at his cheek and felt a tiny insect squish against his flesh.
Flies …
He blinked as his eyes adjusted to the dim light. Open crates of food surrounded him. The wooden boxes were piled high with fruit, grain, and vegetables.
Caine moved closer to one of the boxes. The fruit inside was shriveled and brown. Patches of green mold crept across the surface of the food. The air around him hummed with swarming gnats and flies.
He glanced over at a pallet of large sacks. One had burst open, spilling its contents across the floor. Worms and maggots writhed in the pile of grain.
Talak followed him into the truck. He wrinkled his nose in disgust.
“All this food, gone to waste. They never even delivered it!”
Caine tipped over the box, letting its decayed contents roll out and splatter on the floor. Another crate sat beneath it, and he emptied that one too. The flies swirled around them, drawn to the sickly smell of the rotted fruit.
He examined the bottom of the empty crate. “My guess is, this food was rotten before they even got here,” he said. Using his knife, he pried at the wooden planks on the bottom of the crate. “The smell discourages customs agents and throws off dogs.”
The wood splintered and pulled away. A narrow compartment was concealed in the bottom of the crate. Caine dragged the box out into a beam of sunlight. A thick, green metal tube lay exposed between the wooden beams. Yellow writing was stenciled across the curved barrel.
Talak gazed at the bottom of the crate. “What language is that?” he asked in an astonished whisper.
“Turkish,” Caine answered. “This is a MANPADS. Man Portable Air Defense System. FIM92 Stinger missile. The Raytheon Corporation developed them in the United States. They licensed the technology to weapons manufacturers in Turkey.”
Caine slid the crate back into place, then hopped down out of the truck. He extended a hand and helped Talak climb down.
“Air defense?” the old man said, shaking his head. “I’ve never seen weapons like these.”
“They’re not exactly new, but they are effective. The South Sudanese forces’ major advantage over the rebels are helicopters. They have an armed air force that can assault rebel positions from the air. These missiles will level the playing field.”
“But these trucks have been coming into South Sudan for months.” Talak eyed the rows of crates in the shadowy trailer. “Someone must be spending a fortune on these missiles.”
“Not just missiles. Modern rifles, pistols, RPGs … Takuba must have a partner. Someone who’s been arming his followers to the teeth. Whoever they are, they must be planning a major offensive of some kind.”
“And these samples that Doctor Vasani examined, they are another weapon? A biological one?”
Caine nodded. “That’s what I’m going to find out. Wherever this truck was going, that’s the next step. I’ll either find Takuba there, or someone who knows where he is.”
He paced around the truck to where Paul stood next to the trussed-up soldier. The elephants sauntered a few yards away. The enormous creatures eyed the men with suspicious glances.
Caine kicked the mercenary in the side. The man sputtered and coughed.
“Destination,” Caine snapped. “Now. Where were you taking these weapons?” He glared down at the prisoner. The man met his emerald gaze for a moment, then turned away and spat in the sand.
“Go to hell,” he muttered.
Caine smiled. “Have it your way.”
He hefted the man’s rifle and pulled back the charging handle.
At the sight of the weapon, the lead elephant again reared up on its hind legs.
“Whoa, whoa,” Paul called out. He rushed to the animal’s side and patted the beast’s leg. The massive creature dropped back down. Caine felt his legs wobble as the ground trembled beneath him. The elephant gave Caine a disdainful look and snapped his trunk side to side. Then it turned and rubbed up against another member of the herd. Its angry roar turned to a soft, gentle purr.
“These animals’ homes were turned into a war zone,” Paul explained in a quiet voice. “They saw members of their herd shot and killed. First, by accident. Later, from poachers, on both sides. The guns … they remember the guns. Loud noise makes them angry.”
“Then you better move the herd away from here,” Caine said, his voice low and cold. He crouched down next to the mercenary and again stared him in the eye. He placed the barrel of the rifle against the man’s knee and flipped the firing selector lever to single shot.
“This man has some talking to do. And I promise he will tell me what I want to know. But it might take a while. And there might be some screaming.”
Chapter Thirty-Three
It took about three hours to drive the big rig south from Bentiu to a narrow dirt road that branched off the main strip. The truck shook and rattled along the uneven path. Caine struggled to keep the large vehicle under control. The tiny road headed east, back towards the Ez Zeraff preserve.
The blurry, heat-soaked terrain that streaked past the windows of the truck was bleak and desolate. To the north, the oil fields of Thar Jath had been a site of constant fighting and bloodshed. While under the rule of Northern Sudan, the region’s civilians had been forced off their land. Government troops had burned their homes to the ground.
The roads Caine traveled were built by American oil corporations. They no longer operated in the area. After several attacks by rebel forces, they had ceded their territories to French and Malaysian consortiums. As far as Caine could tell, this region was no different than the rest of the country. The land changed hands frequently, and the only constants were fighting and bloodshed. And of course, the oil. There was always the oil.
Another twenty minutes passed. The silver tower of an oil refinery pierced the thick, hazy air in the distance. The mercenary’s directions had been accurate. The man had been too terrified to lie. Caine had made sure of that.
Let’s hope the rest of his intel is good, Caine thought.
A rusted fence, covered in withering vines and weeds, cut across the road
. Caine drove the truck through a narrow gate in the fence. The truck’s airbrakes hissed as he slowed down and brought the rig to a stop.
He was dressed in the mercenary’s uniform and carrying the man’s weapons and equipment. Another man, wearing similar clothes, emerged from a tiny gatehouse. He sauntered towards the truck. Caine slipped some folded paperwork from a pouch on his vest and handed it to the guard, along with an ID badge. In Kanfar, there was no way to find the proper tools to doctor the badge, but the picture on the ID was old and faded. Caine was wearing a black cap and sunglasses. He could only hope he was a close enough match that the guard wouldn’t look too closely.
The man eyed the badge for a brief second, then turned his attention to the paperwork. Each page contained row upon row of numbers and letters. Caine assumed it was a coded manifest of the contents hidden in each shipment.
The guard flipped through the pages. “You’re late. We expected this stuff yesterday.” He looked up and squinted at Caine. “Where’s your other man?”
Caine smiled. “Truck started overheating outside Bentiu. Had to stop in the village for water and repairs. That idiot you paired me with took off with one of the local girls. I left his ass behind.”
The guard shook his head. “Damn amateur. You know, you were almost late to the party. Pull up to the loading dock, behind the main tanks.”
The guard returned Caine’s papers and ID badge. He pointed towards a row of circular gray tanks in the center of the complex. A distillation tower, flanked by columns of long, slim pipes, rose up between the tanks. All the refining equipment appeared to be inactive.
“Report to the foreman’s desk inside. He’ll send a team to unload and direct you to your assignment.”
Caine nodded and smiled. “Copy that. Thanks.”
The truck shuddered as he shifted into drive and pulled into the complex. As he drove around the tanks, he spotted rows of South Sudanese men, dressed in the ragtag uniforms of Takuba’s rebels. They stood in a field beyond the tanks, training under the guidance of Delta Blue mercenary leaders. Several groups were practicing MANPADS deployment. Their instructors timed their actions and shouted commands and instructions. Other men were firing Tavor automatic rifles at practice dummies lined up in a firing range. Several of the men wore the red armbands and white face paint of Takuba's Ghost Jackal elite.
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