WAR: Disruption (16 page)

“Well?” he asked as she took her seat, released the hand brake, and took the Jeep out of neutral.

“I don’t see any vehicles to the north of us, but I do see a rebel truck back at the crossroads.” She glanced over at him. “So I guess I should drive parallel to the road and slightly inside the tree line for as long as I can.”

“Yeah.” He put his hand on her shoulder. “For someone not used to driving, you’re doing great.”

She gave him a wan smile. “Tell me that tomorrow when my arms are so sore from wrestling this wheel that I can barely move them.”

“I’ll still tell you that. I’m not kidding, you’re adapting damn well. You should be proud of yourself.”

Once again, she blushed. What was it about praise from him that embarrassed her? Hadn’t she received praise as a ballerina? She must have, if she’d made it to the top. So there must be something about him that set her off.

“Wait.” Underneath the sound of the Jeep’s engine and the jungle noises coming through the open window Max heard something else. “Stop.”

Emily slammed on the brakes. She must have forgotten to engage the clutch, because the engine stalled. “What?”

“Shh. Let me listen.” Yeah, that was the sound of a large truck engine.

Emily must have heard it too, because her eyes met his, wide with alarm. She snatched up her camera, exited the vehicle, and hurried toward the road. “Dammit, Emily,” Max muttered under his breath even though there was no way she could hear him. “Come back here.”

Once again he was forced to watch as she observed whatever was happening on the road. Through the gaps between the tree trunks he thought he glimpsed a troop transport truck like the one he’d seen back at the crossroads.

Emily stood just inside the jungle until the rumble of the engine had passed. When she returned, Max waited for her to shut the door, then snatched the camera out of her hands. “What’s wrong with you? Have you been infected by some sort of reckless journalist bug all of sudden? What if the rebels had spotted you?” He didn’t realize that he was leaning across the console and crowding Emily against the driver’s door until she placed her hand on his cheek.

“I was careful, Max.”

“What do you know about careful?”

She flinched, but he was too angry to care. “You’re a civilian,” he snarled. “You haven’t trained for years on covert techniques. You might have thought you were being careful, but what if the rebels had spotted you? Captured you? With this damn leg wound slowing me down, I wouldn’t be able to get to you in time!”

“Shh. I’m okay, Max. The rebels didn’t get me. I’m here.” She kissed him quickly, then pulled back. “I might not be an expert like you, but I do know how to move quietly through the woods. Father made us practice, in case some day we have to sneak past guards who want to keep us prisoner.”

He rested his forehead against hers, enjoying the warmth of her breath against his chin. “You scared me,” he said quietly.

“I know.” She pulled away and her lips curved in a small smile. “That makes us even, huh?”

He gave a shaky laugh. “Don’t do that to me again.”

She just shrugged and started the vehicle. “This is actually a lucky break for us. The rebels had only one truck on this side of the road when they blew up the intersection. Since that truck just passed us, it should be safe to use the road.”

Max settled back into his seat. “No. Stay off the road. We’re too vulnerable.”

“But—”

“What if the rebels turn around and come back this way? We’ve already seen that they’ll shoot first.”

Emily gave a heavy sigh, then nodded and steered the Jeep between a couple of trees.

“Are you getting tired already? Let me drive.”

“No. I’m fine. It’s just going to take a really long time to get to the way station if we have to stay on this uneven terrain.”

“We won’t get to the way station at all if we’re dead.”

Emily just sighed again.

Ten minutes later, Max pointed to their right where the trees gave way to tall grasses and a field of maize. “Looks like there’s a farmer’s path along that field. It should be easier going.”

Without a word, Emily followed his directions and eased the Jeep out of the trees and onto the small lane. Tires had worn the grass down to packed dirt, and she gave the Jeep some gas.

God, it felt good to see the world move past at a decent clip again. Made him feel less like a failure. More like he might actually be able to carry out this mission. Stop the upcoming attack.

Which reminded him, he needed to notify Rene and Kris that the rebels had destroyed the crossroads. Rene would arrange for medical assistance. And Kris would have the contacts to notify reliable people in law enforcement and the military about the damage done to the country’s infrastructure.

He checked that there weren’t any overhanging branches, then pulled out his sat phone.

As he hit send on the last text, Max yawned. He wanted to stay alert to any signs of danger, but the only thing keeping him from dozing off was the constant jarring of his wounds. His ribs had started throbbing a counterpoint beat to the pain in his thigh. The knife wound at his back was a constant, low ache. Even his head hurt.

But he was alive. More importantly, Emily was alive and unhurt. If they could just avoid any more encounters with the rebels, they’d be fine.

“How far until the way station?” Emily asked.

Max reached for the map and did a rough calculation of distance. Then he checked the speedometer. “At this rate, another two hours. But we don’t know how far this lane extends, so if we have to drive through the jungle again we’ve probably got three or four more hours to go.”

“Are we going to make it before nightfall?”

“I don’t know. It’s almost three now and sunset is around six.” He glanced down at the map. “And that’s assuming that the way station hasn’t been turned into a temporary base for Ziegler or the rebels.”

Up ahead, the lane curved out of sight around a grove of trees. “Ease to a stop,” Max told her. “Then go check that the way is clear.”

She nodded. This time he was prepared for the spurt of anxiety while she walked away from him. As he watched her, he had to admit that she was right. She moved gracefully through the underbrush, causing minimal disturbance. Perhaps due to a combination of survival training and dance training.

His attention was so focused on Emily that the buzzing of his phone startled him.

My friend, you just can’t seem to stay out of trouble, can you?
Rene’s text made him smile.
Medical and other assistance is on the way to the people affected by the rebel attacks. Do you or Emily need medical attention?

Nah, we’re good,
Max texted back. He’d save the story of his latest wound and how Emily had doctored him for when he next saw Rene.

Emily returned and slid into her seat. “The lane continues to our right, but I think it’s going to dead-end at a village, because I heard chickens squawking.”

“Okay, we’ll have to cross to the other side of the main road to avoid being spotted by any nearby villagers on foot.”

Emily did a few neck and arm circles, then resumed driving. The next few hours were spent alternating between driving in the jungle, along fields, and crisscrossing the road to detour around villages.

Max monitored their progress by using the GPS tracker on his watch and comparing it to the map. The sun was almost down when they reached the small turn off for Sulaiman’s village.

“Turn here.”

“Why?”

“I want to check if anyone has returned to my friend’s village. If yes, he might be able to hide us for the night.”

Emily shrugged and followed his instructions. Unfortunately, the village was just as deserted as before. Max got out of the car and did a quick reconnaissance, then Emily helped him search the village for useful supplies. They ended up with two cans of gas, a couple of jars of groundnut paste—the local equivalent of peanut butter—and a few rolls of digestive biscuits. Not exactly a feast, but it would supplement their meagre food supply.

Worried about Sulaiman, Max texted Kris and asked him to look into his friend’s whereabouts.

He refused to acknowledge how easily he’d slipped back into the habit of thinking of Kris as a partner, rather than someone to be protected.

“Do you really think we’ll be able to find someone at the way station willing to take me over the border?” Emily asked once they’d returned to driving alongside the main road.

“Honestly? No. With the rebels in the area, I doubt anyone will risk their life by taking on a white passenger.”

“Yeah, that’s what I think, too.”

“So we’ll keep going to the border.”

“But Max, what about the plane?”

He rubbed the base of his neck. “I’ll check again with my friends in the underground. See if they can’t spare someone to take over the search. If not, I’ll turn around and come back as soon as you’re safe.”

“That’s all very heroic and whatnot.” She shot him a look out of the corner of her eye. “But you seem to be forgetting about your leg wound. You don’t even know if you can drive.”

“I can drive,” he grumbled. It didn’t matter how much pain he was in, he’d do what needed to be done.

“Yes, but why? Maybe I should stay as your driver.”

“No. It’s not safe.”

Emily shrugged. “It makes more sense, though.”

He started to protest, but she waved him silent. “Let’s not argue over it. We should almost be to the way station, right?”

He nodded.

“Are we gong to spend the night there?”

“No. We’ll find a place to camp in the jungle.”

“Fine. We’ll revisit this topic tomorrow.”

“Like I said, bossy,” he muttered. But he couldn’t help but smile.

INSIDE THE TENT that served as his command center, Dietrich studied the topographical maps spread across his desk. Areas that had already been searched for the plane’s debris had been shaded faintly with a red pencil. The difficulty was that no one knew where the plane had gone down. Only the second-hand accounts of locals in this region suggested that the plane’s remains were likely nearby. Yet when directly questioned, the locals proved to be remarkably unconcerned about the potential loss of life involved in a plane crash.

When asked why they hadn’t investigated, the man Dietrich had personally questioned had shrugged. “Not my business. We keep to ourselves and want no trouble.” He had gestured toward the thick jungle area. “Why should we waste our time searching for some mechanical bird that fell out of the sky? No one could survive.”

Dietrich had figured the man was part of the area’s smuggling network and that he had been lying about finding the plane. So he had offered the man an exorbitant amount of money to help him recover the contents of the plane. The man had agreed to help with the search, but so far there had been no sign of the debris.

With only eight days until the meet with the buyer, Dietrich was getting nervous. Worse, Ziegler still had not managed to recapture Max. Instead, Ziegler had reported that Max had eluded the rebels’ attempts to corral him at the capital. Max had last been spotted heading north. Toward this area.

Dietrich could not allow Max to find the plane first. He—

His satellite phone rang, the signal boosted by the expensive transceiver he travelled with. “Yes?”

“I am still waiting for a report that all has been taken care of as discussed.” The scrambled voice of Dietrich’s sponsor was barely understandable over the weak satellite connection. “Need I remind you that you are disposable? Perhaps I need to send in a new team to take care of the problem.”

“No, sir. I expect success well within our time limit.” Dietrich could not afford to lose this deal. Failure would destroy his newly restored reputation. After the havoc caused by Max’s team, it had taken him too many years to earn back the trust and respect of the players in the international arms market. Any additional harm to his reputation was unacceptable. “Both issues will be resolved to your complete satisfaction,” he promised.

“Good. I look forward to hearing that all has been handled. It would be a pity if I had to eliminate you now that the deal is so close to fruition.” With that, the man ended the call.

Dietrich stared at the phone. He did not truly believe that his men would be able to locate the plane and recover the briefcase with the plans and the prototype before the deadline. The jungle was too dense. It grew back too quickly. Even with the help of advanced detection equipment, his men still had to search the thickest jungle on foot.

Dietrich pressed his palms against the map. Liver spots marred the backs of his hands, the skin no longer as taut as it once had been. It was a fine balance keeping the men he worked for in a proper state of respect for a man old enough to be their father. He knew that in the coming years he would be attacked by those wanting to take over his business. He was prepared for that. Over the past two decades, he had accumulated a significant reserve of cash and purchased a house on a private island to which he would retire. But he was not ready to hand over the reins just yet.

He enjoyed too much the thrill of working under the radar of the authorities, and he found deep satisfaction in the manipulation and calculation involved in negotiating the best possible deal. So he would hold on to his empire as long as possible. Which, at this moment, involved following through on his promise to fulfill the upcoming deal.

Picking up the phone, he made another call. “Execute plan B,” he said to the person who answered. He had not made it this far without learning to always create a backup plan. “Notify me when all is ready.” He hung up.

No matter what it took, he would
not
show up empty-handed to the meet with the buyer.

WAR Headquarters

The Democratic Republic of the Ivory Coast

West Africa

“GIVE ME DETAILS about the crossroads,” Kris demanded that evening when Max finally checked in. He’d been waiting impatiently for Max’s call, worried that he’d have to tell Wil that something bad had happened to his brother.