WAR: Opposition: (WAR Book 3) (23 page)

A man of medium height stood in front of the desk. He was dressed in a shining orange and gold Kente cloth tunic over crisply pressed, dark blue trousers. “Ah, Ms. Neilson, I am honored to meet you.”

He knew her full name. How? Had he been warned to look for her by the rebels, who had her name from her passport? She bowed her head slightly. “Thank you, sir. You are the tribal chief?”

He smiled as if her question had amused him. Had she broken some sort of protocol for meeting a chieftain?

“I am Chief Sankoh.”

The man Seth had warned her about. Had she been wrong? Had Seth told this man about Kirra? She kept her expression relaxed. “It is an honor to meet you, Chief Sankoh.”

Sankoh inclined his head regally. He spoke in the local language to the the two men from the bus, then the men nodded and left the room.

Sankoh turned back to Kirra. “I understand that you are an accomplished musician, Ms. Neilson. We will be honored to have you perform at our festival tonight.”

Kirra gave him an apologetic smile. “No, I’m sorry. I—”

“Oh, but you misunderstand me, Miss Neilson.” The grin he threw her had a dark edge that put her instincts on alert. “That was not a request. That was an order.” Without losing his jovial expression, Sankoh reached behind him and held out a tattered, bloody shirt.

Kirra’s body stilled, although her mind raced. She’d last seen Seth wearing that shirt. She recognized the tear the assassin’s bullet had made on the upper arm. Meeting Sankoh’s eyes, she shrugged, feigning nonchalance. “What does that shirt have to do with me?”

“Ah, you have spirit. I appreciate that. As you well know, this shirt belongs to the pilot Michael Hughes.”

Wait. Wasn’t Michael the name Seth had called out when he’d been sleeping? What was going on?

Sankoh held out a wallet and flipped it open. Next to an identification photo of Seth was the name Michael Hughes.

Kirra’s heart sank. He was using an alias. Which was his real name? Seth or Michael? Or neither? Who
was
he?

Shoving the flicker of betrayal aside, she said, “I still don’t see what this has to do with me.”

“I am a devoted fan of music, Miss Neilson. I find that I am quite eager to hear you perform ahead of the benefit concert. When I discovered that you were in my territory, I tried to locate you immediately, but Mr. Hughes was less than cooperative.” Sankoh returned the items to the desk, then removed a cell phone from his pocket. He tapped the screen, then pushed the volume controls.

An agonized grunt was followed by Seth’s muttered “Fuck you.”

Oh, Seth.

“As you hear, Mr. Hughes is in my possession. Should you fail to perform at the festival, I will have him killed.”

Struggling not to show her fear, Kirra cleared her throat. “That seems a rather excessive threat just for an average musician.” Which meant there was more at stake here.

The recording continued to play. Kirra hunched her shoulders against the sounds of fists hitting flesh, accompanied by Seth’s pained grunts. She stuck her trembling hand in her pocket and ran her thumb over the rounded end of the guitar pick. She couldn’t let Sankoh see any weakness.

Right now she had to keep herself, and Seth, alive. She met Sankoh’s eyes. “All right. I’ll do it.”

S
eth didn’t know
how long he floated in and out of consciousness in his cell before footsteps approached. The door swung open, revealing three of Sankoh’s guards. One of them carried a lantern and Seth winced against the light.

“You are in luck, white man,” the guard with the lantern said as his two buddies released Seth from his chains. “The boss man has had a change of heart. You have been invited to tonight’s festival.”

What? Was he hallucinating?

The guards grabbed his arms, dragged him out of the cell and down the hall to another room.

“Clean yourself,” the leader said as the men dropped Seth onto the floor next to a bucket of water.

He bit back a groan as the impact aggravated his bruised ribs.

Seth eyed the bucket, the bar of soap, and the washing cloth. The bucket was plastic and wouldn’t make a good weapon. Unless he could engineer a scenario where all three men slipped on the bar of soap and fell hard enough to knock themselves out, the soap wouldn’t help him either. And Seth was too weak to use the washing cloth to smother anyone.

“If you do not wash yourself, we will be forced to do it for you,” Lantern Man barked.

“All right. I hear you.” He’d hoped for some privacy, but the men crowded into the room, leaving Seth barely enough space to move. He struggled to his feet, turned his back to the men, and stripped.

Despite being watched, he appreciated a chance to clean off the sweat and grime from the jungle. Surprisingly, the water was lukewarm. It stung when it touched his wounds, but he did his best to hide his pain. When he’d rinsed the last of the soap from his hair and body, he asked, “Now what?”

One of the men thrust a towel at him. Once he finished drying off, a guard handed him a pair of black slacks and an orange and green, kente cloth tunic. They were a little big on him, but Seth wasn’t going to complain.

Lantern Man nodded toward the door. “Will you come with us like a man or do we need to drag you like a coward?”

“I’ll walk.”

The men led him to a foyer where a couple dozen people mingled, including women and children. The mood was festive. The men wore dress slacks and tunics similar to Seth’s. The women wore skirts, tops, and headscarves in tribal patterns to match the men’s tunics. Even the infants were wrapped in bright fabric.

Seth blinked in astonishment. What the hell? Had he stepped into an alternative universe?

“Ah, Mr. Hughes!” Sankoh strode over, a delighted smile on his face. A woman carrying a small child on her hip gave Seth a polite smile when Sankoh introduced her as his wife.

The little girl sucked on her thumb and peered curiously at Seth from her mother’s arms. Seth’s heart clenched. He’d never met his niece. Would never get to look into Brianna’s eyes. Would never get to hold her or hear her laugh.

The child smiled at Seth. He nodded to her, then looked away, struggling to swallow the lump of emotion in his throat.

“Now that you are here, it is time to leave,” Sankoh announced. “Come.” He led Seth, flanked by his guards, outside. Four hulking black SUVs waited in the yard with their engines running. Seth glanced around. All the men were armed. While only his guards paid overt attention to him, he knew the others were aware of his every move.

They didn’t have to bother. With children weaving excitedly among the adults, he didn’t dare try to escape. So he climbed into the backseat of the nearest SUV, and sucked it up as two of his guards squeezed in beside him.

“Where are we going?” Seth asked once they were on the road.

“The festival.”

All right. Not a big help there, buddy.

He considered his options as the convoy of SUVs headed toward a well-lit town. Since this vehicle was in the middle of the convoy, he didn’t have much hope of breaking free. He’d have to wait and find an opportunity once he was on the ground.

The convoy slowed as it reached the back end of a traffic jam. Seth eyed the road on either side of his vehicle, but even if he could dive past his guards and make it outside, there were too many pedestrians to risk having the guards firing at him.

Eventually, the SUVs broke away from the traffic jam and pulled into a parking lot behind a darkened building. The door to Seth’s vehicle was opened from the outside, letting in the sounds of laughter, conversation, and the primal beat of drums.

Other vehicles pulled in around them. People spilled out of sedans and minibuses, waving and calling out to friends. When the guard on Seth’s right exited the vehicle, he discovered that it was one of Sankoh’s teenaged sons holding the door open. Sankoh stood just beyond, with his wife at his side. This time the woman held a young boy by the hand, while a smaller boy sat on her hip.

Sankoh smiled at Seth. His eyes said that he knew Seth wouldn’t put the kids in danger by trying anything.

Cursing his bad luck, Seth climbed out of the vehicle and was immediately surrounded by his guards. One of them shoved the muzzle of a semi-automatic pistol into his side. Seth did his best not to wince as the muzzle pressed against his sore ribs.

Just then the little girl who’d been held by Sankoh’s wife back at the house toddled over to Seth. “Up!”

The guard stepped back and holstered his pistol.

“Er.” Seth glanced at Sankoh, who beamed at him.

“She wants you to pick her up,” Sankoh’s wife said.

Seth gave the child a skeptical look. “You sure you want me to hold you?”

She thrust her arms toward him. “Up!”

“All right.”

Gingerly, he bent down and picked the girl up. He checked to see how Sankoh’s wife held the girl’s brother, then mimicked the hold.

The girl giggled and gave Seth a big smack on the cheek before pointing toward the lights and music. “Party!”

Right. Just a fun night on the town with the local drug lord and his armed thugs.

Not exactly typical treatment for a prisoner. Which made Seth very nervous.

The group walked down a deserted street that spilled into the bustling main thoroughfare. Following the rest of the crowd, they soon reached the town center. Businesses formed three sides of a square. On the stage that stretched across the fourth side, tribal drummers beat out a compelling rhythm. A small group of mostly teenagers danced in front of the stage. Speakers at least six feet tall stood at each end of the stage, broadcasting the music throughout the town.

Lanterns lit the edges of the square where several vendors had set up temporary stalls selling food and beverages. The scent of meat cooking made Seth’s stomach growl.

Lines had formed in front of the ice cream vendors as they handed out the treats from refrigerated boxes on the front of bicycles. Children ran screaming and laughing through the crowd, dodging attempts by the adults to catch them. Men and women strolled in couples or in small groups, occasionally calling out to their children. The little girl in Seth’s arms squirmed to get down. At an indulgent nod from Sankoh, Seth lowered her gently to the ground. She and Sankoh’s other children promptly ran off.

The normality of it all set Seth’s nerves on end. All he could picture was Kirra huddled alone in the darkness. Damn it. Was she scared? Worried about him? Her thieving skills wouldn’t do her much good in the jungle at night. At least she had his backpack with the remaining MREs. Last night she’d shown that she understood the basics of shelter construction, so he had to believe she’d make herself a decent shelter tonight.

But she worked in a big city. Would she be able to navigate through the jungle to a place where she wasn’t blocked in by the river?

The jab of the pistol against his side brought Seth’s attention back to the present. His two guards squeezed closer, sandwiching him between them.

“Enjoy the festival, Mr. Hughes,” Sankoh said. “Do not try to escape or it will go badly for these innocent people.” With a benevolent smile, Sankoh linked arms with his wife, then walked away.

“Would you really shoot into the crowd if he gave the order?” Seth asked under his breath.

“We do as we are told,” the guard on his right said. But out of the corner of his eye Seth caught the brief frown on the other guard’s face. Okay. The left one was the weak link. Now, how to exploit it without causing a bloodbath?

Because he needed to get out of here, steal a vehicle, then find Kirra.

Unfortunately, as he and his guards walked along the edge of the crowd, Seth realized that escape would be tricky. Not just because of his two companions, but because Sankoh had additional guards scattered throughout the square. A few openly carried shotguns or AK-47s. They continuously scanned the crowd from their positions standing in the doorways of businesses that had closed for the night. Other men in civilian clothes, including the ones who’d left the compound with Sankoh, had pistols holstered at their hips.

That didn’t make them any less of a threat. It only meant it would take a few extra seconds for them to start firing.

The townspeople nodded hello to the guards and even stopped to talk and joke with them. A few women flirted with the men. Didn’t people understand that Sankoh and his men were ruthless and bloodthirsty? Or were people acting this way because they’d be punished otherwise?

Sankoh was the type of man General Sandberg had been protecting in Southeast Asia. Seth swallowed back bile, knowing that it was possible he and his team had destroyed at least one festive gathering similar to this one.

But although he searched, he didn’t see any fear on the faces around him.

Seth reckoned that he’d been walking with his guards for half an hour when the rhythm of the drums rose to a crescendo, then stopped. The crowd fell silent as everyone looked toward the stage. Sankoh stepped up to the microphone.

“Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for attending this evening’s festivities.” Sankoh launched into a speech that mimicked a politician on the campaign trail. He thanked the townspeople for their support and promised to reward them. Not interested in his lies, Seth tuned Sankoh out and shifted slightly to his left.
Let’s see if the guards are paying more attention to me or to Sankoh.

The guard to his right grabbed Seth’s wrist and jabbed him with the pistol. “Do not move again or I will shoot you.”

Up on stage, Sankoh ended his speech. “Enjoy the rest of the night!” He waved, walked to the back of the stage, then sat down on a wooden throne.

You have got to be kidding me.

The crowd cheered. Once he had settled himself on the throne, a woman in a gold and pink tribal outfit took the microphone.

“Are you ready for the singing?” she asked.

The crowd roared in approval.

“Are you going to dance?”

People surged toward the dance area.

Seth’s guards grabbed his arms and pulled him out of the way of the dancers. They ended up standing in front of one of the businesses closest to the stage.

Seth studied the crowd, the placement of the other guards, and the various exits. He still didn’t understand why Sankoh had brought him here, but it was a mistake. He would find a way to escape.

For now, he’d wait and watch.

The first group to perform was an enthusiastic group of young men and women who encouraged the crowd to shout the lyrics back at them. More people moved into the dance area. Seth’s guards urged him farther away from the widening throng of gyrating people.

The group on stage played for forty agonizing minutes. Every time someone moved too close to Seth, the guard on his right shoved the pistol harder into Seth’s side until it felt as if the man would poke a hole right through him.

Yet the guard on his left barely paid Seth any attention, too busy bobbing his head to the music.

Yeah, he was definitely the weak link.

Personally, Seth thought the drums drowned out the singers and the bell players needed to figure out how to integrate with the other instruments, rather than ringing out at seemingly random times. But the crowd didn’t seem to mind. They bopped and shimmied with enthusiasm. When the set was finally over, they booed in disappointment.

An all-female group took the stage next. They sang with a skilled cohesion that the previous group had lacked. Seth might have enjoyed listening to them if it hadn’t been for the pistol against his side and his fear for Kirra.

But he hadn’t yet figured out a safe way to create a distraction so he could slip away.

Up on stage, the announcer started to introduce the next act, but Seth only half-listened. Okay. Maybe he could start a—

“Please welcome our very special guest, Kirra!”

Seth’s head snapped toward the stage. What the fuck?

Kirra walked onto the stage, carrying the gaudy gold-and-white guitar that Seth had last seen in Sankoh’s office. She’d wrapped a colorful scarf around her forehead and the front part of her hair, letting the rest of it fly out behind her in a curly, riotous cloud. She wore a leaf green, sleeveless tunic over a loose skirt striped in gold and a matching green. Gold bracelets encircled her ankles, matching the gold-toned flip-flops on her feet. A series of gold hoops cascaded from her ears.

Seth’s breath caught. All thoughts of escape fled. God, she looked so beautiful. In the flickering light from the lanterns you could barely tell that she was scraped and bruised or that she’d spent over twenty-four hours on the run from the rebels. She strode toward the microphone with the grace and confidence of a queen.

Pride filled him. He should have known she’d find a way out of the jungle.

The crowd fell silent. Sankoh said something and Kirra whipped her head around to meet Seth’s eyes.

The guard to Seth’s right moved his hand so that Kirra could see the pistol he held against Seth’s side.

Kirra bit her lip.

Behind Kirra, Sankoh smirked at Seth.

This, then, was why Sankoh had brought Seth here. To guarantee Kirra’s good behavior. And if Sankoh wanted the two of them here, then Bureh’s men were on the way. Bureh wouldn’t want Seth hurt before he’d completed his assignment, so Sankoh must have decided that it was in his best interest to clean Seth up and bring him here, where Bureh’s men could grab both Seth and Kirra in one fell swoop.