“So, you know nothing yet?”
“Nothing definitive, sir. Just that she got on an airplane and escaped the ADF—but it was headed straight into a storm.”
Young grunted. “I want an update the minute you hear something.”
“Of course, sir.”
Young ended the call, leaving Besserman with nothing to do but ponder his future if somehow Geller didn’t survive.
And hope was all he had.
CHAPTER 25
Washington, D.C.
BLUNT STOOD IN FRONT of a wall map in the conference room, trying to determine his agent’s location. According to Shields’ report, he’d traveled north after getting Secretary Geller to the Cessna. But there weren’t many places long enough to land a plane in that direction. And based on the terrorist activity in the area, helicopters presented too slow a moving target, making them more susceptible to gunfire from the ground. There was nothing more the ADF would love than to knock a U.S. military chopper out of the sky.
“I hope you’re having better luck than I am finding a way to get Black out of there,” Shields said as she strode into the room.
Blunt, gnawing on a cigar, shook his head. “This is a disaster. I can’t assign my operatives to missions like this if the president is going to clip our wings.”
“Both figuratively and literally, in this case,” she said.
Blunt’s nostrils flared as he clenched his fists. “I don’t see any way out for him. Do you?”
“Not by air.”
His eyes widened. “The river?”
“It’s a possibility.”
“But he needs a boat, one with a motor.”
“Agreed.”
“And where do you expect him to find one of those on such short notice?”
Shields shrugged. “He could steal one.”
“This isn’t a river like you’d see back home in South Georgia,” Blunt said. “It’s not like there are a million docks with motorboats littering the banks. Those people there are lucky if they’ve got a canoe and a pair of paddles.”
“He could still look.”
“And draw the attention of tribal people. Look, I’d put his chances far higher going against terrorists with rifles than I would jungle dwellers with spears and bows.”
“Point taken. And especially since he’s traveling with a boy.”
Blunt sighed and bit his lip. He considered not saying anything but couldn’t restrain himself. “He can't save everyone. Besides, some people don’t want to be saved.”
“I’m not sure you’re wrong about that when it comes to this boy. I get the sense from Black that he’s squirrelly.”
“So help me, if he costs Black his life, I’ll hunt that kid down myself.”
Shields offered a thin smile. “He’ll be smart. We just need to give him a pathway out of there.”
“Unfortunately, I don’t see one. Do you?”
“I don’t see any readily available, which is why I was hoping you were having better luck than I did.”
“In that case, I think we’ll just have to make a way.”
Shields smiled wide and winked. “I was hoping you might be thinking that way. But we need to act fast.”
“What’d you have in mind?”
Shields sat down in one of the conference room chairs and rested her feet on the table before continuing. “Do you have any friends at the WHO?”
“I have several good friends who work there,” Blunt said. “But they’re not the kind of people who would generally be willing to help out a military venture.”
“What if you don’t tell them it is?”
“I’m listening.”
Shields jumped to her feet. “I’ve been thinking about how we can get transportation to Agent Black without the ADF becoming suspicious—or anyone else for that matter.”
“So, I’m guessing you’ve fleshed this out.”
Shields nodded and began to pace around the table. “What if you call your friends and tell them that you have a buddy who works for Doctors Without Borders and is in Congo practicing among the villagers. But he’s found a patient with a rare virus, which needs to be studied further. The patient is a 12-year-old boy who seems to be fully recovered, but three elderly people in the village contracted the same virus and died within twenty-four hours.”
“And your pitch?”
“We need to send an outbreak team into the village to bring the boy out as well as Dr. Black. They can drive out the boy and Dr. Black, who can claim that he left his supplies with another doctor who needed it more.”
Blunt’s eyes lit up. “That’s brilliant. Now, we’ve got to get Black into a village that’s not too far away from his current location to make this more plausible.”
“I’ll make it happen,” she said before hustling out of the room to contact Black.
Blunt smiled as he interlocked his fingers behind his head and surveyed the map again.
I think this just might work.
CHAPTER 26
Kwango Province, Congo
BAHIRI ZAHID GLARED at the guard positioned at the entrance of the gate. Just beyond the fence, he could see the guards hustling back and forth, preparing troops to deploy. The guard stared at the picture of Zahid before hailing his superior on the radio.
“If you don't let me in, you will regret it,” Zahid said.
The guard scowled and looked up from the document. He drew his weapon and trained it on Zahid.
Zahid raised his hands in the air and took a step back. “Chill out, brother. I’m just here to see a friend.”
A smile leaked across his face as the gate swung open. Kazadi, flanked by several soldiers, emerged. He looked at the guard.
“What are you doing?” Kazadi asked.
“I wanted to make sure that he was who he said he was.”
Kazadi sneered at the guard before smashing him in the face with an elbow. He staggered backward and clutched his nose.
“Don’t ever treat my esteemed guests like this again!” Kazadi said. “Do you understand?”
The man nodded, his hands still covering his face.
“Good,” Kazadi said before turning to Zahid. “Welcome to our camp.”
The two men embraced before retreating inside. Kazadi offered a cigar to Zahid, who readily accepted.
“It’s a Cuban, yes?” Zahid asked.
“Of course,” Kazadi said. “Only the best for you, brother.”
Zahid held the cigar up to his nose and ran it back and forth, inhaling the tobacco aroma. “And to think I was only a short distance away from such an exquisite luxury.”
“What did those imperialists do to you?” Kazadi asked. “I’ve heard Guantanamo Bay is a sentence worse than death itself.”
“All lies,” Zahid said. “It used to be that way but when the American government was shamed for how they treated a few Muslim prisoners in Iraq, everything changed. It might as well be a Club Med resort now.”
The two men laughed heartily.
“Come,” Kazadi said, ushering Zahid toward a tent. “We have much to discuss.”
Kazadi wasted no time in explaining events over the last twenty-four hours. He explained everything, from the good fortune of learning that Secretary Geller was in their country to the opportunity to use her as a pawn. That was where the good news ended.
Kazadi’s tone changed from one of pride to one of anger while describing how American operatives disrupted the camp and managed to free Geller.
“Where is she now?” Zahid asked.
Kazadi shrugged. “No one knows. She got on an airplane sitting in the middle of the river and took off. My men took a few shots at her, but she escaped. However, I doubt she got far. The storm overhead looked dangerous. The plane disappeared into the clouds.”
“Who rescued her?” Zahid asked.
“We’re still trying to determine the identity of the man who broke her out.”
“Man? As in, only one?”
“We don’t know
how many there were. But we just caught a single one on tape.”
“A single man broke into this camp and freed the Secretary?”
Kazadi sighed and then nodded. “We’re still not sure how many were involved in the attack, but we only managed to capture one on our security cameras.”
“Can I see the footage?”
Kazadi nodded. “Follow me.”
The two men meandered through the camp until they arrived at a wooden shed, one of the few quasi-permanent structures around. Satellite dishes hung off the edge of the roof, pointing in various directions. Inside, two men sporting headphones monitored all the activity captured by security cameras surrounding the perimeter. Most of the screens appeared to be working, while a handful showed only static.
Kazadi instructed one of the men to bring back footage from the previous day’s attack. He quickly complied with the order, setting up the video before offering his seat to Kazadi, who gestured for Zahid to sit down.
“What exactly happened?” Zahid asked.
“I’ll let you see for yourself.”
Following a brief tutorial on how to use the machine, Zahid furrowed his brow as he watched the scene unfold. With all the cameras synced up, he moved the clips forward and backward, studying different monitors each time.
“What are you looking for?” Kazadi asked.
“Your weakness.”
Then Zahid snapped as he pointed at one of the screens. “The attack started from above. See right here.”
Kazadi leaned closer to the screen, squinting at the blurred object next to Zahid’s finger. “What is that?”
“It’s a rope,” Zahid said. “Whoever sprang here did so by dropping down through the trees.”
“We have trained our men to check the trees.”
“Then they need to be retrained,” Zahid said, “because they didn’t do a good job.”
Zahid returned his full attention to the footage, continuing to move forward and backward within the time frame of the attack. After another couple of minutes, he stopped and slapped the desktop. He wore a big grin when he looked up at Kazadi.
“What is it?” Kazadi asked.
“This is the man who broke into your camp?” Zahid asked, pointing at the screen.
Kazadi nodded. “There could have been more, but we couldn’t find anyone else in the security footage.”
“No, there was only one. This man is fully capable of pulling off such an operation on his own.”
“But he had help,” Kazadi said. “Remember? The plane on the river.”
“Did this man get on the plane, too?” Zahid asked.
“Not that we noticed. He returned to camp for some reason before disappearing across the river and into the jungle.”
“So, he’s still here, right?”
“Theoretically, I suppose so. Some of my men chased him north along the river but lost him after a while.”
Zahid clenched his fists and pumped them triumphantly. “Forget the U.S. Secretary of State. This man is far more valuable to us if we intend to strike back at the Americans.”
“How so?”
“I’ll tell you everything once we capture him,” Zahid said. “Let’s resume your search for him immediately.”
Kazadi nodded. “So, who is that man?”
“That is Agent Titus Black,” Zahid said. “And you need to do everything you can to apprehend him. Talk to everyone you know in this jungle and spread the word. He must be caught.”
Zahid suddenly felt hopeful again.
“Now, if you’ll excuse me,” Zahid said. “I need to make a phone call. I have a favor to cash in.”
CHAPTER 27
Washington, D.C.
AFTER CHRISTINA SHIELDS PUT her ambitious plan into motion, she went to work out. She’d made every phone call and sent every email in an effort to alert everyone about the extraction plan she had conceived. She was surprised at Blunt’s enthusiasm for it, though she wasn’t sure if he acted that way because he truly thought it was a good idea or that he didn’t have any of his own. Either way, the wheels had been set in motion and it was out of her control. All she could do now was wait to receive word that Agent Black was safe.
Instead of sitting around the office, she did what she always did around lunchtime when in Washington and blew off some steam at the gym. She swiped her access card and headed to the women’s locker room. Shields changed into a tank top and shorts before sitting down on the bench and exhaling slowly. Closing her eyes, she inserted her ear buds and listened to her favorite James Taylor album. It was her dad’s favorite when she was a kid and quickly became her music of choice when she was feeling stressed.
She was almost entranced by Taylor’s smooth voice and soulful lyrics when “Fire & Rain” started playing. But as the second verse started, she turned off, remembering what the song was really about. It wasn’t simply about coping with hard times; it was about dealing with the unexpected loss of a friend.
Is that all Black is to me? A friend?
While she had spent plenty of time thinking about how their potential relationship might affect their work, she hadn’t really considered the depth to which they might go together. Was it just a spur-of-the-moment kiss? Or was there more that they both wanted to explore? Maybe even something more permanent, more exclusive?
Neither one of them dated much. She and Black had discussed in the past how they both hated lying to people they cared about. And that was a non-negotiable part of the job. Nobody knew what they did or what the real purpose of Firestorm was. Saying that they worked at a private security firm was both self-explanatory and helped avoid a slew of detailed questions. Claiming to be a data analyst in the corporate office usually ended all future questions. Nobody wanted to be bored to death.
Sufficiently relaxed, Shields decided she could ponder all these things after she finished her workout. She switched over to some more rhythmic music and headed to the weight room.
Shields started her chest exercises, beginning with the bench. She warmed up with the bar and then shoved 45-pound weights on each side of the bar. A tall guy with bulging biceps who appeared to skip most leg days leaned against one of the machines and watched her, mouth agape. Shields gave him a wink before hoisting up the bar ten times without any problems.
For the next half-hour, she flung kettle bells, deadlifted barbells, and curled dumbbells. And during that time, she forgot all about the things that were troubling her just a few hours earlier. Instead, she focused on the burning sensation in her arms and chest. With each exercise, her body grew more tired and sore—and Shields became happier.
She spent the next fifteen minutes engaged in a HIIT exercise on the treadmill. When that was completed, she was tired and began walking toward the communal hot tub. Upon arriving at the tub, she was relieved to see that no one was inside it.
Just what I need—the hot tub all to myself.
Shields changed into her swimsuit before returning to soak in the warm water. She removed her prosthetic leg and set it near the base of the tub before easing inside. As she sank down, she steadied herself by using the handles affixed on the top. Then she scooted into a corner, which was positioned a little lower with a reclining back. She closed her eyes and turned James Taylor back on again.
The jets forced a mixture of water and air all up and down her back, bringing a faint smile to her face. Shields surveyed the room again, which was completely empty—and surprising. Even on a day with fewer members at the gym, there were always at least two or three people enjoying a soak. The attendance was so sparse that she started to wonder if it was a holiday that she’d forgotten.
Shields remained in that position for five minutes, almost lulled to sleep by the low hum emanating from the hot tub. Then with her eyes still closed, she sensed that the lights were out. When she opened her eyes, her hunch was proven correct.
“Hello?” Shields called out. “Is anyone here?”
She heard shuffling across the room.
> “Who’s there?”
She leaned over the side and reached for her leg. She couldn’t feel it or see it. Scrambling out of the tub, she lowered herself down the steps and bent over to get her leg where she’d left it before getting in the water. The leg was gone.
Shields cursed under her breath as she tried to determine what was happening.
“Who’s in here? I need my leg back now.”
“Here you go,” a man said in a deep voice from behind her.
Shields spun around in time to get walloped in the head. She staggered backward a few steps before falling to the ground.
And what little light she could see went dark again.
CHAPTER 28
Kwango Province, Congo
BLACK FOLLOWED SHIELDS’ DIRECTIONS as he ventured into the jungle with Shantu on the motorcycle. The village where they were to await the arrival of the doctors was ten kilometers north of their position. They sped along a narrow dirt path, weaving around bushes and bobbing beneath branches. When they arrived at the specified location, several men meandered up to meet them. Black held his hands up, signaling that he wasn’t a combatant, and praying they understood.
One of the men, his long beard almost solid white, shuffled up to Black and squinted, studying him closely just inches away from his face. Black remained frozen, using only his eyes to follow the elderly man. After a few seconds, he moved behind Black and continued the inspection. This went on for nearly a minute as the rest of the villagers sat in silence watching the proceedings.
However, they ended abruptly when Shantu broke into laughter, and the serious expressions on the faces of the villagers lightened.
Shantu said something to the old man in a language Black didn’t understand. The elderly man responded and then extended his index finger, poking Black in the arm several times.
“What did you say?” Black asked Shantu in a hushed tone.
“I told him you weren’t a lion and that you wouldn’t bite,” Shantu said. “Then he asked if he could touch you. Is that okay?”
Black chuckled. “Of course it’s okay.”
“Good,” Shantu said. “He told me that he’s never seen a white man with muscles before. The white doctors who come to the village all look pale and weak.”
State of Conspiracy (Titus Black Thriller series Book 8) Page 12
