Blood Covenant (25 page)

FORTY-NINE

FRIDAY, FEBRUARY 25, 4:16 P.M.
ON THE ROAD TO KASILI

Jonas pressed on the accelerator of his 4x4, ready to put an end to the almost twelve hours of driving. Killing the American might not have been his original plan, but neither had he anticipated the stubbornness of his government. He’d expected them to give in quickly to their demands in order to bury the problem. Instead, their unwillingness to compromise had become the motivating factor that had eventually driven him to make a stand they would not be able to fight against.

And this time he had no intention of losing.

He knew how these things worked. The death of one white man was enough to raise the sleeping giants from their slumber and for his government to finally see things his way.

A glance out the back window confirmed that the other two vehicles were right behind him. Warfare across the country had changed since his brother had first risen up as a leader. Satellite phones made it possible to communicate instantly with the next village or the other side of the country. Which meant all he needed to stay in business was a few Land Cruisers and a way to communicate that enabled him to run the battle they fought from anywhere. The phones also made assembling forces in the capital or coordinating raids in the Mponi region fairly quick and effortless.

Like today.

His mole in the American embassy had finally given him the break he’d been waiting for. And if everything went as planned, the attack would be over before anyone had time to even realize what had happened. Nor would it matter any longer what the ICC or the Dzambizan government said. In another few hours, five million American dollars would sit in his account, his brother would be free, and he wouldn’t care where he was — as long as he was as far away as possible from here.

Jonas smiled as an unmarked vehicle came into view, matching the description he’d been given. He signaled the other drivers behind him, then sped to catch up. They’d prepared for weeks for a possible ground assault against the army, waiting only until an opportunity like today’s to present itself. Within minutes, his brother would be free and the rest of the world would realize who now stood in control.

The rotating whirl of a helicopter caught Jonas off guard. A tire exploded beneath his Land Cruiser and the vehicle jerked to the right, spinning out of control. He fought against the wheel, his head smashing against the window. The sound of shattering glass and metal grinding pounded in his ears until, finally, the vehicle skidded to a stop.

Jonas fought to catch his bearing. Men, wearing fatigues and carrying assault weapons, exited the white van they’d been chasing and approached him. His men from the other vehicles stood nearby, their hands held high in defeat.

Jonas searched for an escape, but there was no way out. And no sign of his brother.

Blood dripped down the side of his face as Jonas stepped from the vehicle. He raised his hands and sank down against the African soil.

FIFTY

FRIDAY, FEBRUARY 25, 4:34 P.M.
DROP-OFF POINT

Nick caught a flash of movement out of the corner of his left eye. Something moved on the ground beside them.

The pilot?

Ngozi’s gaze shifted momentarily. Nick’s instinct to survive, paired with years of military training, took over. He stepped toward Ngozi, moving out of the line of fire, then struck hard above the man’s wrists, knocking away his weapon before pinning the man to the ground.

The
dead
pilot tossed him a pair of handcuffs. “Corporal Sam Mills, U.S. Marines, sir.”

“Nick Gilbert, but I guess you already knew that.” Nick shoved his knee into Ngozi’s back and tightened his grip. “I thought you were dead.”

Mills pulled up the bottom of his shirt. “Thanks to a bulletproof vest and the fact that you’ve got lightning reflexes, I’m not.”

Nick locked the cuffs, then jerked Ngozi to his feet, still dealing with the rush of adrenalin at almost getting shot. “And this was your plan?”

With a hand still gripping his chest, Mills nodded, then managed to stand. “Sort of.”

“Sort of? He shot you point blank.”

“I’d actually hoped I wouldn’t need the vest.” Mills pulled out the embedded bullet. The guy’d be sore for days. “And you’re right: this was too close a call. But once I realized his intention was to kill us both, I decided playing dead might be our only way out.”

“It was a very bad plan.” Nick frowned. He was getting tired of close calls. “But at least you’re alive.”

“At least we’re both alive.”

“So what — ”

Nick stopped midsentence. Two dozen uniformed soldiers emerged from the forest, guns cocked and looking ready for a fight.

You’ve got to be kidding.

“You’re late, guys.” Mills shouted at the men, then turned back to Nick. “Don’t worry. These are the good guys. The ambush was supposed to be before I even got out of the helo, but I was worried that might alert your rebel friend that something was off.”

“You did good, Corporal.” Fatigue washed over Nick. “What are the rest of your orders?”

“We’re to head for the rebel base camp to provide any necessary backup.”

“Then let’s get out of here.”

Fifteen minutes later, the camp came into view. Mills landed the helo beside a second bird and a line of Humvees and army trucks. From the looks of things, the radio report they’d received en route was correct and the camp had already been secured by the RD army and a handful of U.S. Marines.

Nick exited the helo and entered the compound. Finding Paige was first on his priority list. Rebels lay facedown in the dirt, hands cuffed behind them, legs spread. Against the cinder-block wall lay a row of bodies covered with sheets.

Gunfire had been exchanged. Where was she?

He rushed past a group of women and children, looking for whoever was in charge. Someone had set up a communications center on a rickety wooden table, a contrast to the hi-tech satellite phone and other communication equipment sitting on top of it.

“Nick?”

Nick turned around. Brandon stood there, a heavy fatigue registering in his eyes. “You leaving?”

“Yeah. We just got word that the surprise attack on the refugee camp was successful. The military is going to airlift Jodi from the camp, and I’ll meet her in the capital in a couple hours. I don’t think I’ve ever been so relieved in my life.”

“You should be. I know this trip has been a nightmare for you. Get back home, then take your wife down to some tropical locale in the Pacific for a couple weeks.”

Brandon laughed. “Knowing Jodi and her stubbornness, she’ll be begging to return so she can finally climb that mountain.” His smile faded. “Something like this can only happen once in a lifetime, right?”

“Let’s hope so.” Nick’s gaze scoured the compound beyond Brandon. “Have you seen Paige?”

“I think she was in the isolation hut when the rescue started.”

“Thanks.” Nick reached out and shook the man’s hand before heading toward the familiar hut.

He found her on the far side of the compound, tending to the wounds of one of the rebel’s wives. Relief flooded through him as he stopped to study Paige’s profile. The strip of dirt smudged on her cheekbone, her dark hair pulled back in a ponytail, the mark of determination in her expression.

He stopped about ten feet from where she worked. “Paige?”

She looked up, the smile on her face all for him. She pressed her hands against her thighs, stood, and walked toward him. “Thank God you’re alive. I was so worried something happened to you.”

“Actually, I was worried about you.”

“This whole experience has been terrifying, but I’m okay.”

She wrapped her arms around his neck and nestled her chin into his shoulder. She smelled like campfire, smoke, and disinfectant, and he was sure all she wanted was a hot shower and a safe place to sleep for the next week, but all he could think about was how her nearness teased his senses.

Boy, he could get used to this.

“Trust me, I’m very much alive.” He caught her gaze and grinned. The scene around him faded as he reached down and kissed her. He felt her respond, cautiously at first, then more intensely as the kiss deepened.

She took a step back after a moment, breathless, but still smiling. “My emotions are already so spun out of control, I’m not sure my heart can handle falling for such a handsome hero.”

He entwined her fingers with his, realizing that for his own heart, there was going to be no turning back. “We can take things slow.”

“I’d like that.” Her cheeks turned a rosy shade of pink as she looked up at him beneath her long lashes. “I just talked with someone from the RD military. The refugee camp has been secured along with this camp, plus Jonas and most of the key rebel leaders have been taken into custody.”

Maybe this nightmare really was over.

He cleared his throat and studied her expression, unsure of what her response was going to be. “I’ve been asked to return to Bogama for the next couple days. For security reasons, the embassy wants all foreigners evacuated until they are certain the situation is under control. I can get you to the capital in time for your flight out in the morning.”

“I … I’ve decided to stay.”

He wasn’t sure he’d heard her correctly. “You’re staying?”

“The thought of leaving has been on the forefront of my mind ever since I arrived at the camp, but now that it’s time for me to go I realize that this is where I need to be right now.”

“You’re sure?”

“You sound as if you’re trying to talk me out of extending my stay—”

“No.” He brushed his fingers across her hair. “There’s nothing I want more than for you to stay. I just … I just thought that you accomplished what you came for and were ready to leave. The cholera treatment center is up and running, the mortality rate has dropped almost to normal, you have the vaccines for the camp …”

“But there’s still so much left I can do. It’s taken me a long time to realize that while I might not be able to save them all, it’s worth the risk for the ones I can save.” He caught a new sense of peace in her expression. “The women and children in this camp have nothing now. We’re going to transport them to the refugee camp temporarily until something permanent can be arranged. Samson will be coming back to the camp with me in hopes he can find his family.”

He cupped her face with his hands and kissed her again, savoring the moment. “Then promise me you’ll be careful, because as soon as I’m finished, I’ll come find you.”

She smiled up at him and nodded. “I’ll be waiting.”

FIFTY-ONE

SUNDAY, FEBRUARY 27, 12:17 P.M.
U.S. EMBASSY, RD

Paul folded the letter-sized paper into thirds, slid it into the envelope, then dropped it onto his desk. The cold medicine he’d taken this morning had left him groggy without alleviating his symptoms, and over the past few days, his cough had turned into a nasty rattle deep in his chest. He eyed the bottle of Tylenol perched on the edge of his desk. He’d take one if he wasn’t already overdosed on a half dozen other over-the-counter meds. At this point, he had a better chance of surviving a firing squad than getting rid of this cold.

“I understand congratulations are in order.”

Paul glanced up at the open doorway. The ambassador stood leaning against the door frame, dressed in a blue button-down shirt and tie, with his arms folded across his chest.

Paul cleared his throat. “Welcome back. I thought you weren’t going to be able to get a flight in until tomorrow.”

“I was able to catch a private plane from Kinshasa. And I apologize for missing all the action. Though I understand you did fine without me.”

“It’s good to have you back, sir.” Paul took a step back and reached for a tissue to blow his nose. “But I wouldn’t get too close if I were you. A week without sleep hasn’t helped me shake this blasted cold.”

“Then why aren’t you at home?”

Paul tossed the tissue into the already full trash can beside his desk. “I had some paperwork to finish up, but I’m heading there now.”

“Good, because you look awful.”

Paul ignored the ambassador’s grin. “Thanks.”

“On the up side, helping to save an entire refugee camp and splintering what was left of the rebel group isn’t bad for a week’s work.”

Paul dismissed the praise. While finding a way to divide the rebel forces between the refugee camp, the rebel base camp, and a bogus prison convoy had worked, he hadn’t been one of the forces on the ground. “We got lucky, but we also had a lot of good men out there risking their lives.”

“I understand your assistant wasn’t quite so lucky.”

Paul reached up and scratched his day-old beard. His attempts to trap the mole relaying information to the rebel base camp had worked better than he’d expected, but he’d never wanted to believe Mercy was behind the intel leaks.

“They arrested Mercy outside the embassy Friday afternoon after it was confirmed she was the one who had passed on the false information I gave her about the prison convoy. Turns out that one of the leaders of the Ghost Soldiers rotting in prison right now is her fiancé.”

The subsequent arrests over the weekend of key rebel leaders and dozens of their soldiers had turned out to be a fatal blow to the rebel faction. And for Paul, it helped to alleviate the sting of Mercy’s betrayal. It had also managed to scatter any remaining rebels, essentially guaranteeing that the bloody conflict was finally over.

The ambassador shook his head. “None of my ex-wives would have risked prison for me.”

“And your current wife?”

Paul felt the automatic twinge of regret over his too personal comment, but the ambassador only laughed. “One day when we’ve got a free afternoon and a full bottle of Jack Daniels, we’ll discuss the vices of our wives.”

“That day might have to wait, sir.” Paul hesitated a moment, then picked up the envelope from the desk. “There is something else I need to mention.”

“What’s that?”

“I was going to give this to you tomorrow, but since you’re here now …” Paul handed the envelope to his boss.

The ambassador ripped it open and started reading the letter. “You’re resigning?”

“Yeah.”

“I don’t understand.”

“My wife needs me, and it’s time I was there for her.”

“Wait a minute. You haven’t slept for days, you need to see a doctor …” The ambassador leaned forward. “Listen. I’ll grant you a leave of absence. As much time as you want.”

Paul shook his head. “It’s the end of the line for me. If I don’t walk away now, my marriage will be over, and I don’t want that to happen.”

The ambassador tapped his fingers against his chest. “Look at me. Vices aside, I’m juggling a marriage and a career. It can be done.”

“Now that says a lot coming from a man who’s now on his — what is it, third wife?”

“Fourth.” The ambassador dropped the letter back onto the desk in defeat. “So don’t use me as an example.”

“I’ve taken my family for granted for too long. I’ve decided that it’s time I started being a husband to my wife.”

He already had it planned out. He’d find some quiet, nine-to-five job where no one was trying to blow him up or where he had to save the world. Come summer vacation, he’d take the kids to Disney World and Maggie away for their next anniversary. He was going to spend Christmas with his family, celebrate the twins’ birthday with his parents, start going to church again, and maybe — if he found the time — write that book he’d always wanted to write.

“You’re too good to walk away from this, Paul, and I’ll make sure all my acquaintances in Washington know that. Besides, you’d hate working behind a desk all day.”

Paul couldn’t help but laugh. “So now that I’m quitting you’re going to broadcast my worth to all of DC?”

“Just promise me you’ll think about it.” The ambassador leaned against the desk. “I can get you a raise, a new post in Europe …”

None of that even mattered anymore.

“Twenty years ago I’d have jumped at the offer. But if I leave now …” He glanced at the photo of his twins. “I might just be able to save my marriage.”

The ambassador moved toward the door, a sliver of approval registering in the older man’s eyes. “If you ever change your mind, let me know.”