by Pamela Clare
He kissed her hair, laughed. “Hell, yeah, we did.”
Samuel walked among the corpses at Jidda’s camp, a cloth over his nose to block the stench. He wanted to see the truth of this himself, wanted to understand how one man could enter their camp in daylight, kill most of their men, and leave, alive and unhurt, with their captive.
It was as Mobo had described with most of the bodies in the center of the camp or near the river. Some had rifles in their hands—rifles they hadn’t thought to use.
Idiots.
Now, flies buzzed around their rotting remains, some of the bodies torn apart by animals. Samuel had to fight not to vomit.
“Here, sir!” Kalu, a hunter who was good at tracking, shouted to Samuel from a rise about a half kilometer north of the camp.
Samuel walked over, glad to leave the reek behind. “What have you found?”
Kalu held up shell casings. “There were two men. One stayed here, concealed, providing cover for the one who ran into the camp to rescue the woman. I doubt our men caught even a glimpse of him.”
“Are you certain there were two?”
“Yes, sir.” Kalu pointed toward the camp with a jerk of his head. “There is a trail of these shell casings leading to the hut where Mobo says the woman was kept. But these large shell casings are only found here.”
“Maybe this son of a whore had two weapons.”
“Look.” Kalu pointed at the ground. “One set of tracks enters the camp, but three sets of tracks return. None of those three sets of tracks matches the fourth set here. There were two men, and they left with two people. The four sets of tracks lead back to a place where they parked their vehicle, about five kilometers north of here.”
Samuel bent down, looked at the tracks, followed them into the camp and back again. Kalu was right. There were four distinct sets of footprints in the dirt, two larger and two smaller. “Get Mobo.”
“Yes, sir.” Kalu whistled, waved to the men guarding their truck.
Samuel had brought the bastard with them in case he needed more information—or found that Mobo had lied to him.
Mobo was escorted to him, looking so terrified it made Samuel laugh.
“Mobo, why are you afraid? Is there something you forgot to tell me?”
Mobo shook his head. “No, sir. I told you all I know, sir.”
“Kalu found that there were two men—one here and the one who charged into your camp. Does that surprise you?”
“Yes, sir. I never saw two men.”
“Here’s another surprise. They didn’t leave with just the woman. They took someone else with them. Was there a second woman in the camp?”
“No, sir.” Then Mobo’s eyes went wide. “The boy. They must have taken Obi.”
“Who is Obi?”
“Obi is Jidda’s young nephew, sir. Jidda took him in after he was orphaned. He lived with us. The woman cared for Obi’s burns after Peter pushed him into the fire. Obi showed her respect after that.”
Samuel could understand now why Jidda made a deal with this woman. She had saved his life and cared for his nephew. She had apparently also taken this Obi with her.
But Obi didn’t belong to her. He was Jidda’s blood, and that meant the boy belonged to the Sky Kings. His fate was to take up his uncle’s work.
“Is there anything else I need to see, Kalu?”
The hunter shook his head. “No, sir.”
“Gather the weapons. Leave the bodies.” Samuel walked back to the vehicle mulling over what he’d just learned.
Who was the second man? Was he a friend of this American—a military buddy?
No, Samuel didn’t think so. When the woman had been spotted at the airport, she’d been alone with her husband. Either his accomplice traveled separately—or he was still here in Nigeria. Perhaps he was even Nigerian.
Samuel sat in the front passenger seat of the truck, waited for Mobo, Kalu, and the guards to climb into the back. Then he nodded to his driver. “Back to Kaduna.”
He needed to find this second man and the boy—not a simple task when he had no idea what either of them looked like. To find them, he must first find Kristi Chang and her husband Malik Jones.
They’d almost had them in Abuja, but the two had fled in a taxi, their trail disappearing in the market. Samuel had focused on the hotels and car rental places in the city, and that had eventually led them to Gulu, where they’d found the anti-theft device. From there, the trail had gone cold.
But they were out there somewhere, and Samuel would find them. He would get the truth from them about this second man and the boy one way or another. When he did, the Sky Kings would find Samuel worthy. They would shower him with gifts and lift him up. A new house. Maybe a truck. Maybe a position in Lagos or Spain or London.
Samuel could never be one of them—he hadn’t gone to their college—but he would not always be in this lowly state, working with strike groups and dealing with men like Mobo and that accursed Peter. God had better plans for him.
Of this, he was certain.
17
Kristi helped Malik change the tire, then walked to the edge of the bridge and looked across at the other side while he packed up the tools, a giddy sense of relief coming over her. They’d made it this far, facing bad guys, lions, quicksand, and the river. Nothing had stopped them.
That’s when she saw. “There are crocodiles down there.”
He shut the vehicle’s liftgate. “I saw them earlier when I crossed on foot.”
“You didn’t say anything.” She walked back down to the vehicle. “Smart man.”
He met her at the front passenger door, drew her into his arms, held her, his embrace warm and reassuring. “We’ve come this far. With luck, we’ll be in Benin tonight.”
“God, I hope so.”
Malik found a road not too far away from the river. They followed it through one small village after another—Kpada, Rogun, Pategi, Regada, Bongi—sharing childhood stories, telling secrets. He liked Ludacris. She had a soft spot for the Grateful Dead and Green Day. They both liked Star Trek.
“What are your guilty pleasures?” Malik asked. “I know you must have some.”
Kristi thought about it. “Okay, well, I like to lie in bed on my days off and watch Disney cartoons. Does that count?”
“Ah, man, that’s lame. Where’s the shame in that?”
“You want shame?” She thought about it for a moment. “Right before my period starts, I get a wicked craving for Ben and Jerry’s Chocolate Fudge Brownie. I buy a pint and eat the whole thing myself.”
“Women and chocolate. My elder sister, Jasmine, used to keep a stash of period chocolate. God help any stupid younger brother who snuck into her room and got into it.”
“You stole your sister’s period chocolate?”
“I didn’t understand what a period was at the time. I had no idea that women and chocolate have a magic, hormonal connection. Would I do that now? Oh, hell, no.”
Kristi laughed. “Now it’s your turn. What’s your guilty pleasure—and if you say internet porn, I’m going to be disappointed.”
He seemed to think about it for a moment. “I like to sing along to Dolly Parton sometimes when I’m driving.”
“Seriously? I did not have you pegged as a Dolly Parton fan.” She took his phone, went to his music app, scrolled through it. “You have a huge Dolly Parton play list.”
“What can I say? I respect her.”
Kristi picked one of the few songs she knew—Here You Come Again—and the two of them sang along, belting out the lyrics.
“You have a good voice,” she said when the song finished.
He threaded his fingers through hers. “So do you.”
But the needle on the fuel gauge was moving steadily toward empty, and at last Malik had no choice but to use the extra gas in the cans.
“It looks like we’re coming to some bigger towns soon. Hopefully, we can fill the tank before we burn through these ten gallons. If not, we’ll hav
e to walk.”
The conversation moved on after that, Kristi asking questions about Malik’s time as a Ranger. “Were there ever days you wanted to quit and go home?”
“There were a couple of times when I felt lucky to get back to base alive.”
He told her about a time the Rangers and an element from DEVGRU—SEAL Team Six—were sent to Afghanistan’s Helmand Province with some Australian commandos in two MH-47E Chinook helicopters to catch a high-value target.
“One of the birds had just gotten its guys on the ground when we were ambushed by a much larger force of insurgents. I was in the other chopper, still in the air. The pilot of the empty helicopter put himself between us and the bad guys and got shot out of the sky by an RPG. His skill enabled us to land.”
“He sacrificed his life for yours.”
“No, he lived to keep fighting.” Malik told her how they did their best to defend their position, using the miniguns from the second Chinook to hold off the insurgents.
“When the miniguns ran out of ammo, there was this terrible silence. I knew that was it. It was over. We had nothing but our rifles to hold off a much larger force, and our ammo was running low. Then an AC-130 Spectre—that’s an airplane equipped with big guns—arrived out of nowhere like an avenging angel. God, that was a beautiful sight. They held the insurgents off until the Brits sent in some birds to retrieve us. I was glad to make it back to base that night. We all made it back.”
Kristi couldn’t imagine. “I don’t know how you do it.”
“When you’re part of something, like the Rangers or even Cobra, you’re fighting for your team, not just for yourself. You keep fighting until you can’t fight any longer. That mission is how I ended up with Cobra. Javier Corbray, one of my bosses, was with that SEAL element. We got to know each other on that mission, and when he and Tower founded Cobra, he invited me to come onboard.”
The SUV was running on fumes when they came to the village of Lade. It had restaurants, a big church, a mosque—and a gas station.
Malik refueled the SUV and refilled the two spare gas cans, and then they were off again. “We’ve got about nine hours of driving left to reach Parakou.”
But first they would have to cross the border.
Malik pulled into a gas station, a huge, illuminated sign that read Truck Transit Park lighting up the parking lot. “I know you want to get out and stretch your legs, but there are too many people here. Maybe we can stop down the road somewhere.”
“Don’t worry about me.”
Malik quickly refueled. Then he drove behind the building, hoping to pick up the transit park’s Wi-Fi. He’d lost cell service after Lade and wanted to check in with Shields. “I’ve got bars.”
Kristi had charged her phone. “So do I.”
“I’m going to see if I can get Shields.” He dialed her number.
Shields answered on the second ring. “Hey, Jones. Good to hear from you. I’ve been tracking you two, checking on you when I can. Is everything going well?”
“We’ll have to talk about that at another time.” He didn’t want to stay in such a populated area for too long. “We’re just outside a town called Gwesaro, about an hour from the border and three hours from Parakou. Do you have any intel on the border?”
“I’m sure there must be something out there. Let me see what I can find.”
“I want to avoid any roadblocks or border checkpoints. I can’t be sure these bastards don’t have people watching for us.”
“Good call.” For a moment, there was nothing but the sound of her fingers clicking on her keyboard. “Tower says you’ve got an infrared mini-drone.”
“I had a drone.” Malik might as well come clean now. “David demanded it as payment in exchange for helping me rescue Kristi.”
“Tower isn’t going to like that, but then he can’t fire you because you already quit, right?” There was a teasing note in Shields’ voice.
Malik grinned. “Right.”
“Okay, I’ve pulled up a recent Agency report. Good news and bad news. You shouldn’t have any problem crossing if you avoid highways. It looks like the only checkpoints are on the major thoroughfares. There are lots of bush roads out there, and the terrain is fairly level with no major obstacles.”
“That’s the good news. What’s the bad news?”
“Because the border is so easy to cross, there’s a lot of smuggling—mostly drugs and consumer goods. Both Nigeria and Benin have border patrols, but that’s a lot of area to cover. If you had the drone, you’d be able to manage it easily.”
“Go ahead. Rub it in.” He sent Kristi’s cell number to Shields. “I’m sending you Kristi’s phone number just in case.”
“I’ve already got that. I got her cell info from the State Department when she was abducted. It didn’t help us because her phone was left behind.”
He ought to have known. “You’re always one step ahead.”
“That is literally my job description.”
Malik went over his plan with her. “We’ll take back roads through the bush, heading toward Parakou. I’ll let you know when we arrive. Then we’ll get some sleep at a hotel near the airport and catch a flight out tomorrow.”
“Don’t buy your tickets until you reach the airport, and get the first flight out of the country that you can,” Shields cautioned. “We can’t be sure the Sky Kings don’t have a presence in Benin. In fact, it’s likely that they do. The moment your names show up in the system, they might get word. Better safe than sorry.”
“Copy that.”
“Also, I’m sending you an alternate credit card to use so that you don’t use the same one you used to buy the tickets and pay for the rental in Abuja. They might have that information.”
As usual, Shields had thought of everything.
“How are things there?”
“We’re wrapping up early. The deal has gone through, and our well-heeled businessmen are ready to head back to the US.”
“That’s good news.”
“Stay safe, Malik. Watch your six.”
“You, too.” Malik ended the call, started the engine, telling Kristi what Shields had said as he drove back to the dusty dirt road that had led them here.
“She’s on top of everything, isn’t she?” Kristi’s phone buzzed. She tapped it and held it up for Malik to see. On her screen was a selfie of Shields, waving, with text that said only, “Hi!”
Kristi took a selfie and sent it back to Shields. “I expected her to be a lot older. She’s so smart and good at her job.”
“Our intel team is mostly women, and they’re top-notch. I think Corbray and Tower see us ex-military dudes as interchangeable, but Elizabeth, Holly, and Gabriela—they’re the brains.”
Kristi slid a hand up his arm, squeezed his bicep. “They might be the brains, but you’re the brawn. I like brawn.”
“Hold that thought for a few more hours, angel. When we get to the Parakou Hilton, I’m going to show you what brawn is for.”
Kristi sat in silence, grateful they were safe in the vehicle, while Malik narrated what he saw through his NVGs on the road below.
“They’re definitely smugglers. The one on this side of the border just handed over an envelope of cash. The other guy is counting it. Now they’re walking to the rear of the truck, probably to inspect the goods.”
Kristi could hear the men’s voices in the distance, but she couldn’t see them. A cargo door clanked open. Voices. Then the door was slammed shut.
“Now the one who paid is climbing into the driver’s seat.”
Kristi heard the engine start, jackals or wild dogs howling somewhere nearby.
“They’re driving away. I’ll wait until I’m sure they’re gone, and then we’ll cross.”
It was after midnight now, and Kristi couldn’t wait to get a shower and a night’s rest. It turned out that running from killers was exhausting work.
Was today the day they’d almost been killed by a train—or was that yesterday
?
No, that was today.
“When you get bars again, start looking for a hotel close to the airport. I’m not sure we’ll be able to get a room. We might have to spend the night in the vehicle.” There was a note of apology in his voice, as if this were somehow his fault.
“As long as I’m with you, and we’re safe, I don’t care.”
He glanced around with the NVGs, flipped them up, and handed her his helmet. “Time to roll.”
She put on the helmet, adjusted it for her smaller head, and flipped down the NVGs, watching for humans, for movement, for anything that might be a danger.
Malik drove down the embankment to the dirt road and made a left, heading west once more. They drove without music, neither of them speaking, until, at last, Malik broke the silence.
“We’re over the border. We’re in Benin.”
Kristi exhaled. “Thank God.”
But her sense of relief was fleeting and incomplete, the darkness and the vast openness of the landscape seeming to press in on her. She couldn’t forget Elizabeth’s warning about the Sky Kings having a possible presence in Benin. Out here, it would be so easy for those bastards to abduct them and drag them back to Nigeria.
“We’re going to make it, angel.” Malik reached over, took her hand, his gaze on the bushland ahead of them. “I’ll find a road into Parakou, and we’ll be there soon.”
It took them almost three hours, thanks to meandering roads, but at last Parakou came into view, the city’s lights a welcoming sight.
“There’s a Hotel les Routiers that says it’s open.” She made a reservation using the credit card information Elizabeth had given them and the surname of her nursing supervisor in Kaduna. “It says here that French is the official language. I don’t know much French. Do you?”
“I can manage Spanish. I know a little Arabic and a little Farsi, but that’s it.”
“We are Mr. and Mrs. Okoro, by the way.”
“Good to know.”
When they reached the hotel, Malik went inside to get the keys, while Kristi stayed in the car. He returned quickly. “Okay, Mrs. Okoro, let’s get some sleep.”
