by Pamela Clare
She turned her back on him and walked out into the daylight, heart hammering behind her breastbone.
How long would she be able to keep up this verbal game of chess?
Right now, Jidda still needed her, but in another week, he’d be on his feet and almost done with the antibiotics. She would no longer be able to walk away from him or put herself beyond his reach. Her hold over him would be gone.
If only she knew SEAL Team Six was on its way…
Jidda shouted something from inside the hut, his voice angry. Obi ran to answer him, ducking inside the door, then turning to Kristi.
“He wants you, miss.”
Kristi drew another deep breath, steeled herself. “I’m coming.”
Malik and David pored over a map after breakfast and discussed strategy. “We’ll take this dirt road west from Kinu and head toward the Mariga River here. We can use the drone to do a systematic search of the forest near the river. With the drone’s two spare batteries, we’ll have about six hours of search time.”
That enabled them to cover an area of about sixty miles each day. If the bastards who’d taken her were anywhere near Kinu, they would find them—unless something spooked them into moving.
“What if we acquired a portable solar generator? You have cash. We could recharge in the field and camp in the vehicle.”
Malik grinned. “Is car camping luxurious enough for you?”
David chuckled. “I like roughing it from time to time.”
“Sounds good to me.” Malik got out the cash, while David gave instructions to one of his bodyguards, who left in search of the generator.
Malik studied the map once more. “If we find them, we’ll get their location to the NPF and to Shields, so she can get the intel to the State Department.”
“We should also notify my contacts at the army’s First Division headquarters here in Kaduna. They can mobilize faster than anyone else.”
“I’m going prepared for a long-term recon mission. Once we find her, I don’t want to give them the chance to slip away.”
David frowned. “Are you certain you can handle that? Can you stay there, watching while they beat her, torture her, maybe even rape her without charging in and getting yourself killed?”
Malik’s chest constricted at the thought. “You know I can’t.”
“You see, my friend? It is better to keep an eye on them using the drone than to put yourself in that situation. If you die, she dies.”
They packed up their gear once again and were ready to go by the time the bodyguard returned with the solar generator.
David knelt down beside it. “A nice bit of kit, don’t you agree?”
Before Malik could answer, his phone buzzed. “It’s Shields.”
“Hey, I’ve got something for you.”
“I’m listening.”
“I sent the photos to my connections at the Agency, along with the intel you sent last night. I just heard back. They rerouted a drone that’s been following Boko Haram and found the vehicle.”
“What?” Malik ran to his laptop, explaining to David. “They found the vehicle.”
Shields went on. “I’m certain it’s the same one. I blew up the images and analyzed them myself. There’s even someone standing there in what looks like blue scrubs. I’m sending you the images and the GPS coordinates now.”
Malik booted up his laptop, set his phone on the table, put it on speaker. “Thanks, Elizabeth. I owe you—big time.”
This was the break he’d been hoping for.
“I counted twenty-seven fighting-age males in the image, not including the figure in blue. Lots of AKs. I don’t see any machine guns. My guess is that they holed up here with their injured guy, the one they wanted Kristi to treat. Once he’s mobile again, they’re likely to move on and either eliminate her or take her with them.”
“The photos just arrived.” With David leaning over his shoulder, Malik opened the files—seven pixilated images. “That’s definitely the Highlander. See the three bullet holes near the taillight?”
David pointed. “And those dents. It’s definitely their vehicle.”
And there, standing at a distance from a group of men gathered around a campfire, was someone with dark hair and blue clothes.
His heart gave a hard knock.
Kristi.
“When were these taken?”
“This morning, so they’re about three hours old.”
“Have you sent this up the flagpole?”
“Yes, of course. I expect the State Department will pass it on to the Nigerian government, and they’ll start working out plans for a rescue. It won’t happen overnight. You should know that Corbray and Tower are pushing hard to get this assignment. They haven’t forgotten, Malik. Don’t do anything stupid.”
“Me? Do something stupid?”
“Says the guy who quit his job and flew to the other side of the world to rescue a woman he hasn’t seen or spoken with in more than a year.”
David shrugged. “She has a point, man.”
Shields appealed directly to David. “Don’t let him do anything stupid, David.”
David leaned closer to Malik’s phone, grin on his face. “I’ll do my best.”
“I’ve got to go. It’s our first day on the ground here in Ouagadougou.”
“Good luck. And thanks again, Elizabeth. You might well have saved her life.”
“I know.” She ended the call.
“I like her. Why did she marry that orange-haired beast, McManus?”
“I think she loves him.” Malik punched the GPS coordinates Shields had sent into his phone and closed his laptop. “We’ll head to Kinu, make our way toward their position, and do some recon. We wait for your army friends or NPF to come in—unless her life is in danger.”
“And then what?”
“Then I’ll take them out, one at a time.”
6
Kristi put the last suture in Jidda’s thigh, tied it off, and cut the thread.
She’d given Jidda a small amount of Versed, enough to knock him out for the short time she’d need to close his wound. By the time she had cleaned up, he was already coming around.
“You’re all stitched up.” She sat on her bed mat, well out of his reach.
He raised his head, blinked groggily, looked down at his thigh. “Will it be well?”
“It should be mostly healed in about six weeks. The muscle will probably be stiff for a long time. You’ll need to keep taking the antibiotics.”
He sat up. “You kept your word.”
She leaned back against the cool brick wall. “Honorable people do that.”
He looked troubled but said nothing.
After yesterday’s argument, they seemed to have reached a kind of truce. He hadn’t brought up her staying with him as his concubine, and she hadn’t said anything about being released. But how long would this last? She’d heard stories of women who were held captive for months or even years before they were rescued.
Was anyone searching for her—the US military, the Nigerian police, anyone? Had Malik gotten the news yet? Was he worried about her?
Never had she felt more alone.
Still, she knew she had reasons to be grateful. This was her fourth day with these bastards, and she was alive and untouched apart from being groped when she’d arrived. She was certain most women they’d abducted hadn’t been as fortunate.
After a breakfast of rice and tea, Jidda asked Obi for help walking outside. He sat on a log near the fire, which had burned low, and talked to his men, showing them his thigh. A group of the younger men walked out of the forest, arms full of firewood, and joined them.
Kristi couldn’t tell what they were saying, but their laughter and smiles put her at ease. One of the younger men seemed to be telling a story about a monkey, given his gestures and the sounds he was making. She couldn’t help but wonder what had led each of them to live as outlaws, stealing, kidnapping people, raping, killing.
She kn
ew that the Fulani tribesmen of the north had resorted to violence when climate change had altered their traditional grazing grounds, turning them to desert. She knew, too, that the riches and modern conveniences of Nigeria hadn’t reached everyone. About forty percent of its people still lived in poverty.
But why choose this life when it was likely to get them killed?
Unable to understand the conversation, she let her gaze drift, taking in the forest around the camp. She couldn’t identify the trees, and she didn’t know what wildlife lived here. She knew Nigeria had lions, leopards, elephants, and other megafauna, but she didn’t know where they could be found. She had hoped to travel the country a bit before heading back to—
Someone shouted.
Peter.
He stood, his face twisted with anger, yelling at Jidda. Some of the other men nodded their agreement, their gazes turning to Kristi.
Her pulse raced. They were arguing about her.
Jidda stood, this time without anyone’s help. When he spoke, his voice was low and menacing. Then he switched to English. “Listen well, Peter. She is my concubine. She saved my life, and I will reward her as I choose. Or do you wish I had died?”
An ominous silence hung over the camp.
Breath frozen in her lungs, Kristi watched as Peter, fury on his face, stalked off into the forest.
She exhaled, her pulse tripping.
Jidda resumed his seat on the log, and slowly the conversation returned to normal.
Obi left Jidda’s side and walked over to her. He held out his burned hand. “My uncle wishes you to go inside the hut and check my hand, miss.”
Kristi wanted to ask Obi a few questions and gladly returned to the relative safety of the hut. She took out the first aid kit, slipped on gloves, and took the dressing off Obi’s hand. “What were they saying about me?”
While she spread lidocaine on his burns, Obi explained. “Peter is angry. He thinks you belong to all the men. But Jidda told them no other man will touch you besides him. He has taken you as his concubine as your reward for saving his life. Peter told Jidda this is not our way. Women captives are shared and sold, not kept for one man. Then Jidda reminded Peter who is the leader here. He alone answers to the Sky Kings and—”
Obi stopped, his gaze jerking to Kristi’s as if he’d just said too much, his pupils dilated with fear.
Who or what were the Sky Kings?
Kristi pretended not to notice. “Jidda was kind to protect me. You are kind to me, too. How old are you, Obi?”
“I am twelve.”
“How did you come to live with these men?”
“My uncle took me in after my parents were killed.”
“You’re a good young man, Obi.” She took out fresh gauze to bandage his hand once more. “Don’t let them turn you into a criminal.”
His face crumpled. “Don’t tell anyone what I told you.”
“Don’t worry.” She gave him a warm nurse’s smile. “I won’t.”
“You should stay in here for now.” Obi turned and left her alone.
She took off the gloves, stuck them in the duffel bag, and sat on her bed mat.
Women captives are shared and sold.
Now she knew what kind of bandits these were. They were human traffickers who sold women into prostitution. And Jidda was the only person keeping her from that fate.
She hugged her knees to her chest and tried not to cry.
“The drone stays packed up unless we need it.” Malik stood his ground. “If we fly it over the encampment, there’s too great a risk that they’ll see it or hear it.”
It wasn’t a high-altitude military drone that could fly undetected.
“If they break camp and try to move her?” David wasn’t giving up.
“Then we use the drone to trail them.” Malik shook his head. “You just want to play with your new toy.”
David chuckled. “I’m a patient man. I can wait.”
Malik and David had hit the road an hour after speaking with Shields, the two bodyguards following in one of David’s SUVs. David had passed the intel on to both the NPF and Nigerian Army HQ in Kaduna, and both organizations were waiting for confirmation from David that Kristi truly was at those coordinates.
They passed Kinu Village, Malik taking rutted dirt roads north and then northwest, circling the location of the bandit camp. He parked off the road when the camp was due south of them.
“It’s a five-kilometer hike. Are you sure you can handle it?”
“Keep talking, brother. You will eat my dust.”
Malik grinned. “If you say so.”
Malik took out his face paint, and they began to paint their faces in non-glare greens, grays, and blacks, colors that matched their jungle camo. Then it was time to gear up. They shouldered their packs, checked their weapons, and moved south, leaving the vehicles with the bodyguards, David carrying the drone in a bag.
It was an easy hike, but they moved carefully, weapons at the ready. Malik had no idea whether sentries guarded the camp, and he didn’t want to find out by getting a bullet to the brain. It took almost an hour, but they reached the position without being seen. They set up their recon on a densely forested rise about a half kilometer north of the camp, both settling in with scoped sniper rifles to watch the action below.
An hour went by. Two hours. Three.
Sweat trickled down Malik’s temples, insects buzzing around his face.
There was no sign of Kristi. She was probably inside one of the huts. Then again, those drone images Shields had sent were now a good six hours old. These bastards could have moved her, sold her, shot her.
Focus.
All they needed was one glimpse of Kristi, and David would call it in. Then the two of them would wait for reinforcements to arrive and take these fuckers down.
It was getting close to evening when some of the men started making a meal. Then an older man limped out of the hut that stood closest to the fire, supported by a boy. And behind them…
Malik’s heart gave a thud.
Kristi.
Malik nodded to David, who pulled out his satellite phone and sent a message.
She seemed unhurt. She watched the men, keeping her distance, a wary expression on her face. She had no obvious injuries apart from bruising on her cheek—or was that dirt? Her scrubs were filthy, her hair tangled.
The man with the limp—probably the man she’d been abducted to save—sat on a log, while the young man who’d helped him filled a bowl from the cookpot. Most of the bastards gathered around the fire. But not everyone.
One fucker sat at a table off to one side, talking with a few others, their heads bowed together. Malik got a look at his face and recognized him as the son of a bitch who’d abducted Kristi and pulled her hair. Then Malik noticed the firearms.
All of the men had weapons.
“Wahala,” David whispered.
Malik knew that word.
Trouble.
“We don’t let anyone harm her,” Malik whispered back.
“Agreed.”
The small group of men broke up, moving toward the fire, casually surrounding the others, their weapons concealed behind their backs or tucked into their trousers. The one who’d abducted Kristi walked up behind the older man with the limp, drew his pistol—and shot him at point-blank range.
BAM!
The older man fell into the dirt, probably dead.
The bastard who’d shot him put his pistol in the waistband of his trousers and strode over to Kristi, who tried to back away. He struck her so hard she fell into the dirt. He reached down, grabbed her by her hair once more, and dragged her to her feet, shouting words Malik couldn’t understand.
Malik sighted on the bastard’s head, finger on the trigger. “What is he saying?”
“I can’t understand it all. Something about how she should be shared like all women and how the other man had kept her to himself. He says he is their leader now.”
Well, he wouldn’t
be for long.
Malik willed himself to relax, to focus on his breathing and his sight picture. If he wanted to hit his target, he couldn’t let anger or adrenaline get the better of him. An elevated pulse or erratic breathing would throw off his aim.
But, God, it wasn’t easy.
The fucker dragged a struggling Kristi toward the hut, while the other men laughed and cheered, some of them following to watch.
Malik couldn’t sit here, waiting, while they took turns brutalizing her. “I need a diversion.”
“I’m already working on it.”
Malik glanced over, saw that David had taken the drone out of the bag and was about to launch it. “You’re going to give us away, man.”
“Get ready to fire.”
Malik looked through the scope and lined up his shot.
Oh, God! Oh, God! Oh, God!
Jidda was dead.
Kristi clutched at Peter’s hand, his grip on her hair painful as he pulled her toward the hut, her cheek throbbing where he’d struck her, fear making her pulse pound. “No matter what you do to me, Peter, I will think only of Malik. It’s his face I’ll see. You are nothing compared to him! You’re just a bandit, a criminal!”
“Shut up, whore!”
This was it.
Peter would rape her. He would hurt her. Then he would let every man in this encampment do the same.
The scalpel.
She could cut him, stab him in the groin, try to cut an artery.
But he would most likely get the blade away from her and use it against her. Even if she disabled or killed him, there were at least two dozen armed men here. No, she couldn’t use the scalpel on Peter. It would only make her suffering worse.
That meant she had no way to stop this.
Despair washed through her, dark and heavy.
They had just reached the doorway to the hut when she heard a buzzing sound, like a giant swarm of bees.
Men shouted.
Peter turned, and Kristi saw astonishment on his face. He shoved her toward the hut—hard.
She fell, pain exploding in her skull as she struck the side of her head on the brick wall. Darkness dragged at her, but she fought against it.
