WAR: Opposition: (WAR Book 3) (22 page)

She put the vehicle in low gear and drove carefully around the mines until the front wheels eased onto the bridge. “Yes!”

The ground at the edge of the canyon crumbled. Her back left wheel lost traction. The vehicle lurched.

“Oh no, you don’t,” she growled, wrestling the wheel and working the pedals until the back tires also rested on the surface of the bridge.

“Ha!”

She stomped on the accelerator. The vehicle fishtailed, then straightened out. A quick check in the rearview mirror showed the four-by-four hurtling out of the main gate. As soon as they’d cleared it, one of the guards leaned out the window and fired at Kirra.

Cursing, she took the turn at the end of the bridge too fast and felt her outside wheels leave the ground. For a second she thought the
bakkie
would overbalance. Then it tipped back onto all four tires.

The four-by-four rocketed toward the bridge. It attempted to skirt the land mines, but didn’t quite manage it. The nearest land mine exploded, followed by its neighbors. Encased in flames, the four-by-four plummeted into the canyon.

A man with his back on fire leapt out of the bus.

Kirra struggled to breathe. Her foot slipped off the accelerator and the
bakkie
stalled. Her heart battered against her ribcage.

“I am safe,” she murmured. “I am in control.” She repeated the mantra until she calmed. When she felt in control again, she checked the far end of the bridge. Seeing no additional pursuers, she started the
bakkie
and drove away.

When she reached the point where she’d slid down the bluff, she hesitated. The exploding generator should have taken out the white four-by-four in the garage. The land mines had destroyed the other vehicle. Without the immediate threat of pursuit, she had time to retrieve their packs. Seth’s pack had a few more survival items that she hadn’t put into her carryall, such as an emergency blanket and the MREs. Since she’d likely have to spend the night in the jungle, she especially wanted the blanket in case it rained.

She quickly parked, set the hand brake, and jumped out. It took only a few seconds to retrieve the packs from their hiding place and toss them into the back seat.

She spared another few seconds to listen for any signs of pursuit. All she heard was the faint rush of the water at the bottom of the canyon and the distant cry of some creature she couldn’t identify. Still, she drove as fast as she dared along the uneven lane as it entered the jungle. The absolute darkness under the canopy—aided by thick storm clouds—forced her to use the headlamps. The light made her feel like a target, but the jungle on either side of her was unbroken by any signs of civilization. The only sounds that came through the open windows were the growl of the
bakkie
’s engine, and the hum and cries of nocturnal animals.

Not much later, she came round a curve and found fields spreading out on either side of the road. She shut off her lamps and stopped. Once her eyes adjusted to the darkness, she scanned the area for threats. She spotted processing sheds, but no homes. The sheds were dark and she saw no lights in the fields to indicate guards walking their rounds. Deciding that it was safe to pass, she turned her lamps back on and continued driving.

To distract herself from the eerie sense of isolation as the jungle pressed back in on either side, she thought over what had happened.

She’d been a thief. Non-violent. On the very rare occasion when guards had needed to be neutralized during a heist, she and her partners had used non-lethal methods. Usually some form of knockout gas.

Knowing that she was even indirectly responsible for the guards’ deaths made her sick. She could picture them screaming as they burned alive, helpless to save themselves as the four-by-four fell into the canyon.

Those men died because of me. If I hadn’t taken the bridge, they wouldn’t have tried it.

If she’d been any less skilled, or any less lucky, she’d have met their fate.

Fear and panic hovered at the edge of her consciousness. No. She couldn’t afford to be distracted by emotion. She needed to focus on her next step. While the land mines had taken out the men chasing her and damaged the entrance to the bridge, it was possible that men inside the main building had seen which way she’d driven. They might have called in reinforcements to meet her up ahead.

But where did this road lead?

The vehicle holding Seth, plus all the employee vehicles, had taken the larger road in the opposite direction. Her mental map suggested that if she continued in this direction, she should eventually come to the road they’d been on when the Land Rover’s axle broke.

The axle made her think about Seth. Was he safe? Were Sankoh’s men still treating him decently? Or had they changed their minds and were treating him like a prisoner?

Did he wonder how she was doing? Or was he glad to be rid of her? Would he tell Sankoh her location?

That was another reason for taking this route. If Sankoh sent a team looking for her based on information from Seth, she wouldn’t be where they expected.

Do you really think Seth would betray you?

She sighed. Before Kyle’s death, she hadn’t known how to read people. She’d been obsessed with chasing the next thrill and had never paid much attention to those around her. That girl would have trusted Seth and Franz equally.

After Kyle’s death, her time on the street and then as a thief had turned her increasingly suspicious and cynical. Franz’s emotional abuse had worn away her self-confidence, but it was the attack that had destroyed her faith in her fellow human beings. It took months of therapy and of learning from the positive example of her mentor for Kirra to realize that a person’s actions were the surest way to determine trustworthiness.

Seth’s actions set him apart from Franz. Franz would never have intervened with the rebels that first night. He would have bargained with them and turned Kirra over once the reward met his standards. But Seth had been roughed up by the rebels and still kept her location a secret. Not only that, he’d refused her offer to pay him to fly her to the concert. Plus, when he’d fallen off the bluff, he could have told the men who captured him where Kirra was hiding. He hadn’t.

Yes, he’d warned her not to trust him, but he’d also done his best to protect her. That held greater weight in her mind. No matter that it appeared that Seth had gone with the men of his own free will. Maybe he’d only faked friendliness in order to protect himself. She could understand that.

Even if he was involved with the wrong side of the law, who was she to judge? She’d been there. Not everyone operating in the gray zone did so because of a lack of morals. Too often it was a matter of poor choices and a lack of alternative options. Or hearing one too many times that you were stupid or lazy or irresponsible and didn’t deserve any better.

For now, regardless of his reasons for going with the men, she had to believe that he would keep her location hidden. Because even though she was heading in the opposite direction, if this entire area was under Sankoh’s control, as Seth had suggested, then she could run into a search party at any time.

She drove through the jungle for over an hour until she reached a T-junction with a tarred road. She braked and shut off the headlamps. Intending to use the compass feature on Seth’s phone to determine where this road led, she fished the phone out of her pack. But she couldn’t even get the display to light up. The charger mustn’t have received enough sunlight today. Disappointed, but not surprised, she found the torch and studied her paper map. Having estimated her location, she climbed out and walked to the edge of the road, staying behind the shelter of a few bushes. To the left, the road disappeared into darkness. To the right, much farther down the road, she spotted the faint glow of civilization, confirming what she’d seen on the map.

Only two vehicles had passed while she’d been standing here. Both had been older model cars covered with rust spots. The
bakkie
she’d stolen, with its peeling paint and rust spots, wouldn’t stand out. Locals would likely have seen it before. Whether it was usual for the vehicle to be out at night, or even out on this road, she didn’t know. But as long as no one took a good look through the windows, she should remain anonymous.

She decided to head right, toward civilization, since that was the town Seth had been driving toward when they’d broken down. But before she reached civilization, she’d have to pull over and find a hidden spot to spend the rest of the night.

Mind made up, she climbed behind the wheel, turned the headlamps back on, then pulled onto the road. With a proper surface underneath the tires, the kilometers seemed to fly by. Her spirits rose. She hummed to herself.

She was adding a new coda to the song she’d been composing since that night on the beach when the engine coughed. Kirra’s heart sank. The engine immediately caught and continued running. “Thank you.” She gave the dash a relieved pat.

She hadn’t driven much farther when the engine sputtered. The whole chassis shook. Then the engine died and the
bakkie
shuddered to a halt.

“Don’t do this to me!” Kirra slapped her palm on the dash, but the engine didn’t miraculously come back to life.

A bus roared up behind her. Shapes were piled on its roof and it swayed precariously as it rocketed toward the
bakkie
. Kirra pressed the button for the hazard lights and dove toward the passenger door. She struggled to get the door open, but the latch wouldn’t budge. Cursing, she turned the handle to lower the window. When it was halfway down, she started wriggling through.

The brakes on the bus screeched. Someone shouted a warning. Kirra turned her head and watched in horror as the bus skidded into a left turn. Its back end slewed around and struck the rear of the
bakkie
.

“
A
lbert Sankoh
just called Bureh to make a deal,” Rio’s informant said over the secure satellite phone connection. “He has the pilot Michael Hughes.”

Damn. Rio rubbed between his eyes. When the CIA had explained that the price of saving his life was that he’d have to work undercover for them, he’d thought he’d be working alone. Not running a network of informants and spies. Worse, he had to balance what information he passed on to Morenga and what he withheld. If he made the wrong decision, and Morenga learned through another source what Rio had held back from him, there’d be trouble.

But sometimes, like now, his work for Morenga and his true job dovetailed.

“Any sign of the woman?” Rio asked.

“No.”

“All right. Thanks.” Rio ended the call. He debated whether to head up to Sankoh’s territory and deal with this directly, or utilize members of his network. Even if Sankoh hadn’t spotted the woman, she had to be nearby. As she was the one most likely to have the diamonds, she was the one Rio really needed.

Rio sighed. The diamonds were too important to leave in someone else’s hands. He’d have to make the trip himself.

Another informant had finally spotted the assassin driving north. Rio had sent two of Morenga’s contract operators to follow him, telling them that the assassin was a potential suspect in the theft of the diamonds.

Not likely, but not entirely out of the realm of possibility. If the Neilson woman had received the diamonds on the bus, and been carrying them at the hangar or at the roundabout, Rio supposed she might have dropped them where the assassin could have picked them up.

Thin, but if the contractors ever leaked word about this mission, it might be enough of a justification to placate Morenga.

Rio suspected that the assassin was headed to the concert venue to wait for Hughes to show up with the woman. His contractors were under orders to simply observe the assassin and report back.

Rio fully intended to find the woman and retrieve the diamonds long before then. If he had to break Hughes out of Sankoh’s hold and use the pilot as bait for the woman, he’d do it.

Too much was at stake if he failed.

T
he impact
of the rear right of the bus slamming into the rear left of the
bakkie
pushed the
bakkie
forward and threw Kirra—who was halfway out the window—against the frame. Her breath left her in a pained exhale as the edge of the window dug sharply into her stomach.

Momentum carried the
bakkie
into a spin. Kirra lost her balance and slid back inside the vehicle.

While she tried to catch her breath, the bus came to a halt. People streamed off it, and several ran toward the
bakkie
.

Kirra pulled herself off the floor as a man reached the driver’s door and yanked it open. He blinked at her in surprise. “It’s a white lady!”

So much for staying hidden.

The man held out his hand. Kirra snatched up her bag and accepted his help in climbing out of the cab.

“Are you all right?”

“What happened?”

“Why are you out here all alone?”

Kirra shook her head at the barrage of questions. “I—”

Something under the bonnet of the
bakkie
emitted a loud hiss. Smoke poured out.

The man tugged on Kirra’s arm.

“No, wait! My things.” If she could break free, she could escape into the trees.

A woman hurried up. She clucked sympathetically at Kirra, nudged the man out of the way, and took Kirra’s arm. “Come. You will join us,” the woman insisted, herding Kirra away from the
bakkie
. “We will give you a lift to the next town.”

Kirra glanced back. The first man had been joined by a second. He passed Seth’s pack to the second man and shouldered Kirra’s pack. Then the men strode after Kirra and the woman.

Kirra’s gaze shifted to the rear of the
bakkie
. The left lamp had shattered and the bumper had crumpled.

“Do not worry,” the second man said as he caught up with them. “I have a cousin who knows how to fix autos. He will come out tomorrow and retrieve your vehicle.” But from the doubt in his voice and the speculative look he gave the
bakkie
, he didn’t believe the vehicle belonged to her.

That was all right. She intended to be far away by morning.

She drew even with the dented rear bumper of the bus. “I’m sorry for the damage to the bus,” she said. “My engine died.”

The woman patted her arm. “It is not your fault. By God’s will, no one was injured.”

Kirra eyed the purple and black swirls that decorated the side of the bus. No wait. Those were musical notes. She tilted her head to study the items tied to the roof and recognized instrument cases and West African style drums. She did a double take. Was it possible she’d been found by a bus heading to the concert?

Most of the other passengers were already back on the bus, except the two men who had passed Kirra and her escort and now waited by the door. A man leaned out the door, looked back at Kirra and the woman, and called, “Hurry.” He pointed to his watch. “We must not be late.”

“I’m sorry,” Kirra said. “I don’t want to slow you down. I can—”

“Hush,” the woman at her side chided. “We are not in so great a rush that we cannot give you assistance.”

A young woman leaned out the window nearest the door. She said something to the man who’d helped Kirra out of the
bakkie
, pointed at Kirra, then held out her phone to the man. He glanced at the screen, frowned, then shot an assessing look at Kirra.

Not taking his eyes off her, he said something to the second man. The second man passed Kirra’s bag to someone inside the bus, then moved away until he stood between Kirra and the trees.

The first man shifted his weight forward as he watched Kirra and the woman approach.

Kirra flicked a glance to her right. Both men appeared fit enough to chase her down, but if she could break free of the woman’s grip and run toward the back of the bus, she might be able to dash across to the jungle before either man caught her. She flexed her arm, preparing to pull away from the woman’s grasp.

The driver loomed in the doorway of the bus, holding a shotgun. The first man said something to him and jerked his head in Kirra’s direction. The driver turned toward her, holding his weapon at waist level. Aimed at Kirra.

She couldn’t outrun a shotgun. Not at this close range.

Tamping down her frustration, Kirra kept a pleasant expression on her face as if she hadn’t recognized the threat. Her training kept her body relaxed as she let the woman lead her up to the door of the bus. The driver lowered his shotgun and stepped back, while the other two men watched Kirra board with an intensity that sent a shiver through her. Just what had she stumbled into?

The two men crowded into the well behind her. The driver took his seat and shut the door. Kirra didn’t like having the men at her back, but as she tried to move down the aisle, the woman in the first seat grinned and waved her cell phone at Kirra. “I know you. You are Kirra. One of the singers who will perform at the Shine a Light concert in the UAR.”

Kirra dredged up a smile. “That’s right.”

The woman started to say something else, but the driver barked, “Sit! We must go.”

The two men set the backpacks on the floor next to the driver. One of them put his hand on Kirra’s back, propelling her down the aisle. She twisted away from his touch. Aware that all eyes were watching her, she kept her chin up as she followed the woman deeper into the bus. While she moved, she mapped out potential exits and studied the people around her.

The passengers were a mix of men and women, none younger than thirteen or fourteen. Some of them nudged one another as Kirra passed, watching her as if she was the most fascinating thing in the world. Others gave her sullen glances that set her nerves on edge.

Something was definitely going on here. To be safe, she’d have to consider everyone on board an enemy who would block any attempt at escape.

Well, then. She’d just have to outsmart them.

Her escort stopped at an empty seat a few rows from the back and indicated for Kirra to sit by the window. Kirra hesitated, the memories of the attack on the bus still too fresh and painful.

The woman nudged her into the seat, then stepped out of the aisle to make room for the two men to pass by. “I am Florence Bonsu,” the woman said kindly as she settled beside Kirra. “You may call me Madame Florence.”

“As the woman up front said, I go by Kirra. No last name.”

Madame Florence studied her a moment. “You are truly performing at the concert?”

“Yes.”

“So, what brought you to this road after dark and all alone?”

Kirra shrugged and gave what she hoped was a guileless smile. “There was some trouble.” She glanced out the window and hugged her carryall to her chest. “I don’t even know where I am.”

“You are south of Aboaman where we are headed.”

Kirra remembered seeing that name on the map. If she headed east, in the direction they’d been walking, she’d reach the minor north-south road Seth had mentioned.

Thinking of Seth sent a pang through her. She distracted herself from worrying by saying, “I saw instruments on the roof. Are you also attending the concert?”

“Us?” Madame Florence laughed. “Oh, no. We are not so professional as all that. We are simply playing at the monthly festival.” She patted Kirra’s knee. “The tribal chief will be so pleased to meet a famous musician. You will surely be asked to perform.”

“Ah…” Kirra slid her hand into her pocket. “I’m not really all that famous. Plus, I normally play the guitar, but I…” Her throat tightened and she had to pause a moment. “I…ah…lost it.” She shrugged apologetically. “My songs aren’t really meant to be sung acoustic.” Not true. She could perform a cappella. But it was too dangerous for her to perform in public.

Madame Florence beamed at her. “Not to worry. We have a Kologo with us. If that will not suit, the chief is a great fan of international music. He has an extensive collection of instruments from around the world. I am certain we will find you an appropriate instrument.”

“Thank you.” During her music training, Kirra had played other two-string guitars similar to the Kologo, so she knew a couple of her songs could be adapted for the instrument. That still didn’t mean she would perform.

She turned her head away and stifled a yawn. “Sorry.”

Madame Florence nodded sympathetically. “Rest now. The night will be busy.”

“Rest now, Kirra. All will be better in the morning.” Simosihle kissed Kirra’s forehead and let herself out of the hospital room
.

Grief rose inside Kirra in a gentle wave and pressed against her heart. Madame Florence had the same dark skin, wide face, and generosity of spirit as Simosihle, her late mentor. From the moment that Simosihle had stepped into Kirra’s hospital room for their first music therapy session, she’d known she could trust the older woman.

Madame Florence radiated a similar aura of calm and reassurance.

Kirra leaned her head on the window and closed her eyes. She missed Simosihle so much. The Zulu woman had initially taught her to sing. Once Kirra’s hands had healed from the attack, Simosihle had shown her how to play the guitar. Her mentor had helped Kirra embrace life again, yet when the cancer threatened the older woman, Kirra had been helpless to stop it from spreading. The best she’d been able to do was to sing and play her guitar for Simosihle during her final days.

Kirra surreptitiously wiped a tear off her cheek. Simosihle had handled her approaching death with far more grace than Kirra. One of her last requests was for Kirra to live life to the fullest.

She doubted these last couple of days were what Simosihle had envisioned, yet despite the fear and hardship, Kirra felt more alive than she had in years.

Keeping her ears open for any sounds of danger, she pretended to sleep. At this point, her best chance for escape would come when the bus stopped and the passengers disembarked. With everyone standing and jostling for position, she should be able to slip through the crowd, as in her pickpocket days. Once she made it away from the bus, she’d disappear into the town.

But when the bus finally stopped at a lorry park, the two men from earlier planted themselves at the end of Kirra’s row. Madame Florence stood and spoke sharply to them in the local dialect. The one who’d helped Kirra out of the
bakkie
shook his head and jerked his chin at her.

Kirra slipped her bag onto her back. A pile of overnight cases blocked the rear exit. She considered going over the seats to reach the front, but at a signal from the men the driver moved to block that end of the aisle.

Dammit.

Once the other passengers had exited, the two men allowed Madame Florence and Kirra to leave their seats. One of the men immediately grabbed Kirra’s arm. Madame Florence elbowed the other man out of the way and took Kirra’s hand.

“Do not worry, child,” she murmured. “They do not wish you harm. The chief is simply eager to meet you. My sister says the chief is a generous, kindly man who has done much good for the town.” But her eyes flickered with doubt and her words lacked conviction.

As the group moved awkwardly down the aisle, Kirra prepared to break free as soon as her feet touched ground. But when she reached the stairwell, four armed men moved into position at the base of the stairs. As soon as they spotted Kirra, they aimed their AK-47s at her.

Holding tightly to Kirra’s hand, Madame Florence launched into a tirade, gesturing sharply with her free hand. The leader of the armed men snarled something that caused Madame Florence to snap her mouth closed and glare at him. But she didn’t release Kirra’s hand.

“Our most honorable chief wishes to speak with you,” said the man who’d helped Kirra out of the
bakkie
.

Kirra decided that playing it cool was her best defense. So she smiled brightly, all the while using her peripheral vision to study her surroundings.

But no escape opportunity presented itself as the men escorted her across the lorry park and to the door of a small office. Madame Florence attempted to accompany Kirra inside, but two of the armed men held her back. The other two armed men and the two men from the bus entered the room with Kirra.