Blue Warrior (10 page)

She needed to find a way to securely contact Ian McTavish, Troy’s computer genius. Troy gave her permission last year to contact anyone at Pearce Systems for any reason. Finding Tanner’s blackmailers seemed like a good reason to her. Not getting killed by them was even better. The brilliant Scot could help on both counts. She’d already worked with him to make arrangements for Troy’s rescue of Mike Early. Now she was the one who needed a little rescuing.

She made a decision. Purse, keys, cash.

Time to run.

15

Karem Air Force Base
Niamey, Niger

6 May

G
uess we’ll have to play it by ear,” Pearce said.

“Is that before or after we’re shot down?” Judy was nervous flying toward an American military base without the proper clearances or emergency call signs. The Aviocar they flew in was strictly commercial and broadcasting the proper IFF signal, but her alarms indicated they’d been lit up with antiaircraft radar and laser range finders.

“We have our orders. Let’s stick to them and see what happens next.”

“Sure. What’s the worst that can happen?”

Pearce was concerned, but not for himself. Myers had called back late yesterday and instructed them to arrive at the American air facility precisely at 2100 local, and promised to call back with details about the plan but never did. Pearce tried to reach her but couldn’t. Either she was in trouble or running from it.

“Bet you wish you hadn’t threatened to beat up a missionary right about now, eh?” Judy grinned.

“Maybe we should’ve let the padre keep the gas after all.”

“Angel Two-Four, Angel Two-Four, do you copy?” A woman’s voice crackled in their headsets. The Air Force air controller.

“Guess they got the message. That’s our call sign,” Judy said to Pearce. She radioed back, “This is Angel Two-Four. Copy.”

“Angel Two-Four, this is Tower Control. You are cleared to land. Come to two-seven-zero heading. Over.”

“Copy that, Tower Control. Coming to header two-seven-zero. Over.”

“Here goes nothing.” Judy gently pushed the rudder pedals and turned the yoke to the new heading until the long black strip of illuminated asphalt was centered in her windscreen, one of three on the small air base. A granite-gray, push prop aircraft with a twenty-meter wingspan stood on one of the runways.

“Reaper drone,” Pearce said. “Night ops.”

“No wonder they built their own little base out here.” The U.S. Air Force located the facility five miles north and west of the city, not far from the N24 roadway, which they repaved and widened to accommodate larger military vehicles. Diori Hamani International Airport was about two miles south and east of Naimey’s outermost boundaries. Diori Hamani had too much civilian traffic and security problems for a sensitive military operation to have to deal with.

Just five hundred feet off the ground they could make out a series of low-lit prefab buildings and trailers: hangars, offices, quarters. At least one of those trailers was the ground control station (GCS) for the Reaper and its crew. Pearce watched the Reaper roll down its runway and gently angle into the brilliant night sky pregnant with stars. He lost sight of it as soon as it cleared the runway lights, but he could discern its deadly shadow blotting out a swath of starlight.

—

M
oments later, Judy landed with practiced perfection. She taxied as directed by the tower toward an available hangar, an airman first class marshaling her into position with red-lighted batons. She was a young Hispanic, probably no more than twenty, Pearce guessed, with a pair of orange safety earphones nearly as large as her head. Did the recruiter tell her she’d wind up at a super-secret drone base in Africa when he visited her high school back in El Paso or Denver or
Sacramento? The young face was earnest and confident in the blinding landing lights as she crossed the batons over her head, signaling a stop. Judy pressed the brake pedals. The marshal dropped her arms back sharply to her sides, then snapped the right baton to her throat, parallel to the ground, signaling Judy to cut her engines. Pearce threw the young woman a mock salute, and she allowed herself a small smile before turning on her boot heels and heading back into the hangar.

“Now what?” Judy asked.

Pearce pointed out the window. “There’s our ticket, I’m guessing.”

A black Chevy Suburban with tinted windows raced toward them.

Judy and Pearce went through the shutdown procedure, powering down and securing the aircraft. By the time they opened the cargo door, the big Chevy SUV had pulled to a stop and two doors had swung open. The man in the front passenger seat made a beeline for Pearce and Trudy, buttoning his suit coat as he marched toward them. He was followed closely behind by a harried young Air Force captain in her camouflaged ABUs and carrying a clipboard. Her name tag read SOTERO in block letters. The driver, a private, remained behind the wheel, but a square-jawed AF Security Forces sergeant named Wolfit stood watchfully by the vehicle, eyes boring a hole in Pearce. An M4 carbine with an HK grenade launcher and high-end optics was slung across his broad chest.

“Troy Pearce, Judy Hopper, it’s a pleasure to see you both again. You probably don’t remember me, but I’m Bert Holliday. We met at the HIV/AIDS conference in Nairobi last year.” He shook Pearce’s hand warmly.

“Bert, of course. Great to see you again, too.” Pearce had no idea who he was.

“Mr. Holliday,” Judy offered, shaking his hand without conviction.

“I’m sure you’re both surprised to see me out here. I was recently reassigned to this mission, and with Ambassador Ray just called away yesterday, I’m now the acting chargé d’affaires
.
” Holliday wore his smile as easily as his neatly tailored suit, no tie, and custom-made cobalt-blue oxford shirt. He pointed to the captain. “And this is Captain Eva Sotero, the officer in charge this evening. Captain, this is Troy Pearce and Judy Hopper, our
valiant
guests.”

Pearce put on his best poker face, but guileless Judy frowned with confusion. The captain was clearly frustrated and off her game, but she caught Judy’s expression. It only added to her suspicion. Sotero glanced at her clipboard. “I just received these orders twenty minutes ago from a Colonel Ian Sanders, out of AFRICOM’s offices in Stuttgart. I’ve been instructed to give you full logistical support for your mission.”

Colonel Sanders? Pearce stifled a laugh. It was a funny way for Ian to let him know he was the one who made the arrangements.

“I’ve been instructed by my superiors to offer any assistance I can as well,” Holliday added.

“But these orders are highly irregular,” Sotero insisted. “And I’ve never heard of this Colonel Sanders.”

“Did you try calling him?” Pearce asked. “We’re doing this on the fly, so a lot of things won’t be regular.” The late-night arrival meant a junior officer was in charge of the base, and Pearce intended to take full advantage of Sotero’s inexperience.

“I called Stuttgart immediately. But, unfortunately, the direct line to his office is out of service.”

Good move, Ian, Pearce thought.

“Did you try Washington? Someone in the Pentagon?” Pearce asked.

“It’s four in the morning there, sir. I’d just get some other poor OOD slob like me.”

“Base commander?” Pearce asked.

“Not picking up his cell phone. Left a voice mail.”

“What’s the problem, Captain?” Holliday stiffened. “This is an emergency medical evacuation of an American citizen in a hostile environment. These two people are risking their lives to save another, so let’s loosen up a few buttons and get to work for these people.”

“I’ll need to see some ID, please,” Sotero said.

“There’s no need. I’ll vouch for them,” Holliday said.

“SOP, sir,” Sotero insisted.

“Not a problem,” Pearce said. He and Judy both pulled current passports from their pockets and handed them to her. She verified names and photographs.

“I’ll need to make photocopies,” Sotero said.

“There’s time for all of that later,” Holliday insisted. “Let them get some chow and some shut-eye.”

“What time will you be departing?” Sotero asked Judy.

“What time?” Judy glanced at Pearce.

Holliday jumped in. “We’re still waiting for a shipment of medical supplies. It should be here in four hours.”

“Destination?” Sotero asked.

“That’s ‘Need to Know,’ Captain,” Holliday said.

He turned to Pearce. “How soon until you’re ready to leave?”

“Soon as we can refuel and run a brief maintenance inspection,” Judy said. She yawned.

Sotero caught the hint. “I’ll assign ground crew to take care of the refuel, maybe have them check systems, too, if you like.”

“That would be great.” Judy was happy to get extra hands on the job, but after they were done she would still do her own walkaround, the way her father trained her.

The captain stepped past Judy and stuck her head in the cargo door. “Mind if I take a look around?”

“Never seen a plane before?” Pearce said. “The Air Force used to have a bunch of them back in the day.”

“Need to check for contraband.”

“Captain Sotero, please,” Holliday insisted. “This is a humanitarian mission.”

“And this is a United States Air Force base. We have protocols, Mr. Holliday, and it’s my ass if I don’t follow them.”

“Not a problem,” Judy said. “Feel free to look around.”

Judy wasn’t concerned. Pearce’s special-delivery cargo to South Africa was carefully hidden and stowed away in a secret locked compartment.

“Before you get started, Captain, how about some food and drink for our guests?”

“Of course. Let’s load back up and I’ll run you two over to the mess hall. I’ve got a couple of BOQ trailers open if you want to shower and
catch some sleep.” She eyed Pearce, then Judy. “Do you folks want one bed or two?”

“One,” Troy said, serious as a heart attack. He wanted to tease his way out of Judy’s doghouse.

“Two beds,” Judy corrected. She punched Pearce in the shoulder. “Two
trailers
, now that I think about it.”

—

J
udy had only planned to shower, but as soon as she toweled off and re-dressed in her dirty clothes, she got the bright idea to lie down on the bed for a few minutes to rest her aching back. She passed out immediately.

Three hours later, a soft knock on the door startled her awake.

“Ms. Hopper? Are you decent?” Holliday whispered.

Judy bolted upright, dazed and groggy. “Uh, yeah. Come in.”

The door pushed slightly open and Holliday slipped in, shutting it swiftly behind him as if he were sneaking between barracks in a prison camp. The bachelor officers’ quarters were little more than a motel room—a bedroom with a desk and TV set and a bathroom.

“Sorry to wake you, but we have a situation,” Holliday said.

“What situation?” Judy swung her legs off the bed and reached for her boots.

Holliday touched a finger to his lips as he removed a handheld scanner from his pocket. He waved it back and forth as he moved toward the bathroom, then thrust the bug scanner through the bathroom door and checked the readings. “We’re clear here.”

“So what’s the situation?” Judy asked again.

“It’s your friend Pearce. He’s gone.”

“What do you mean he’s gone? Is the plane still here?”

“Yes, and fueled and ready to go, and your package arrived from our friend in Colorado.”

“‘Our friend’? How do you know her?”

“Margaret and I go back a long way. We actually dated in college for a few months. But she thought I was a flake because I wanted to join
the Peace Corps after graduation, so we broke up. But we remained good friends ever since. She even nominated me to be the ambassador to Morocco, but when she resigned, Diele had me replaced and I was shitcanned to this backwater. Turns out this place is getting more interesting by the day. Here.” Holliday handed her a slip of paper.

“GPS coordinates.”

“Your new destination, just over the border in Mali. Got them thirty minutes ago.”

“Why isn’t she communicating with us directly anymore?”

“Margaret thinks her communications are being monitored, so she had to backdoor this through your man Ian.”

“Who’s monitoring her?”

“Not sure. That’s probably why she’s going dark for a while. You and your team will be on your own until further notice. Any idea where Pearce might have gone?”

“Without these coordinates? No. You’re sure he’s gone?”

“He’s not at the plane, he’s not at the hangar, and he’s not in his quarters. I can’t exactly tell Captain Sotero he’s gone missing. She’s already cockeyed about this whole thing. The last thing we want is for her to unleash base security for a manhunt.”