Remarkably, the man was still alive. He writhed and jerked, arms flailing. Kimko watched as the men pulling him let go, ducking away as if afraid of his blows.
Two men nearby held torches; they threw a yellow hue around the semicircle of tormentors and victim. Half a dozen Sudan First soldiers stood in a loose circle watching the man as Girma walked over and laid his boot into his midsection. He placed it there gently at first, letting it rest easily on the man, who paused his writhing to stare up at him. Girma grinned, then stomped. The man curled around the blow, gasping.
Kimko saw the man’s face clearly as he turned in his direction. It was Gerard.
A shudder of revulsion ran through Kimko. If the man had any true courage, he would have died fighting rather than letting himself be captured and humiliated.
Animals.
“How great are you now, Gerard?” yelled Girma. “Now that your bodyguards and lackeys are gone? Where is your haughty manner?”
Girma kicked him in the head. Blood spurted onto Kimko’s boot. This enraged him; he stepped back, than lowered his AK-47 and fired point-blank into his enemy’s skull. The men nearby shielded their faces against the bits of flesh and blood that splattered toward them.
“Let the dogs have his body!” yelled Girma. He fired into the dead man’s midsection to emphasize his point.
A woman screamed inside the hut on the other side of the road. Gunfire quickly followed. Kimko turned in time to see three soldiers, none older than fifteen, emerge from the hut. It took absolutely no imagination to realize what they had done.
“We are in control!” yelled Girma, clapping Kimko on the back. “Come! We will go and get your airplane. You are our hero. You have made all of this possible, with your weapons.”
Chapter 20
They went to the smaller building first. Even at a trot, Melissa found it hard to keep up with Danny and Flash. They were dressed in full combat gear, helmets, vests, and heavy boots, along with their guns and assorted equipment, and yet they moved like cheetahs, leaping forward. She quickened her pace, then dropped belatedly as they hit the dirt.
“What?” she said, but either they didn’t hear or simply ignored her, rising and moving in opposite directions to flank the concrete structure. Unsure what to do, Melissa decided to follow Danny; she half crawled, half ran in an arc behind him.
“Clear,” hissed Danny when she caught up to him.
At first she thought he was giving her some sort of command, but then realized he was telling Flash over the radio that there was no one on his side.
“Come on,” he told her. “Let’s have a look. I want to plant a bug inside.”
The only opening was a steel door, secured by a combination lock. Danny took out a small key gun — a lock-picking device that offered various small picks to work keyed locks.
“I hate picking locks,” he said.
“Here, let me see,” she told him.
Melissa took the small device — folded, it was about the size of a pocketknife — and worked the main lock on the door, clicking the tumblers quickly. But the combination lock was wedged in a way that prevented her from seeing the back. She twirled the dial a few times, then tried a popular combination, passing thirty-six, then coming back to twelve, then coming back as she gently applied pressure, hoping to find the last number.
She didn’t. The lock remained fastened.
“You’re going to have to remember some numbers for me,” she told Danny.
Holding the lock in her left hand, she put her right ring and middle fingers through the lock and began turning the dial gently back and forth, feeling for the gates. She ended with ten numbers, separated by four digits.
“What are you going to do? Try every combination?” asked Danny.
She wasn’t, just the most likely ones, which on that sort of lock were almost always the solutions. She went slowly at first, then fell into a rhythm. She got it on the fourth try.
“Here you go,” she told Danny, slipping the lock off its hasp.
He creaked the door open, dropped to his knees and peered inside.
“Forget it,” he said. “Inside’s filled with junk. They’re not meeting here.”
They were halfway to the second building when MY-PID told Danny that the Russian had just gotten into his vehicle.
“They’re on their way,” Danny told Flash over the radio. “Drop back and cover me. I’ll get some bugs down.”
“Yeah, roger.”
Danny turned back to Melissa, who was huffing next to him as he ran.
“They’re coming,” he told her. “I want you to hide over there.”
He pointed to the ditch across the road. It was about thirty yards from the building.
“What are you going to do?”
“I’ll get a bug in and get out.”
“Is Li Han coming?”
“He hasn’t made a move yet that we’ve seen. Stay back,” Danny added. “If you see anyone coming, just keep your head down. We’ll take care of it.”
He didn’t wait for her to answer, sprinting toward the building. Much of the roof had fallen in, and the UAV’s infrared camera could give MY-PID a fairly clear view into about two-thirds of the interior. There was also no door, and hence no lock. Danny stepped over a small pile of rubble into the ground floor and scanned the interior. An old desk sat to his left, surrounded by bricks and the debris. The two floors above looked like the broken teeth of a sawed-off comb, jagged and leaning down. He hopped onto the desk, reaching up to the remains of the floor above, and placed a bug there.
“Subject is estimated to be two minutes away,” warned MY-PID.
Danny jumped back down. As he turned to go, he realized he’d left two large boot prints on the top of the desk. He swept the top with his hand, but that only made things look even stranger — now the desktop was the only thing in the place not covered with dust.
Not sure what else to do, he reached his hands under and pulled the desk up onto its back, removing the top from sight. Then he spread bricks and some large beams over the area.
“Subject is thirty seconds away,” warned the computer.
“What happened to my two minutes?” he demanded.
MY-PID took the question seriously and asked him to rephrase.
Danny bolted to the door. He sprinted toward the spot where he’d left Melissa, bounding in with a head-first dive.
“Here he comes,” said Flash.
“Any sign of Li Han?”
“Negative.”
Chapter 21
Kimko got out of the jeep and walked over to the building, trying to get as much distance between himself and Girma as possible. He needed a plan to get away from him. The odds of that happening peacefully shrank exponentially with each khat leaf Girma stuffed into his mouth.
The sun had gone down about a half hour before. Li Han was undoubtedly waiting somewhere nearby, watching. Hopefully he wouldn’t be spooked by Girma and his men.
Maybe he’d kill the bastard. Now there was a possibility, Kimko thought. Maybe he could work that into the deal.
The building was a wreck, though at least this one couldn’t be blamed on Girma. Kimko took a small LED flashlight from his pocket and shone it around the place. There was a battered desk and a massive pile of debris, and nothing else.
The hell with the UAV, he decided. He was getting out of Africa as soon as possible. He’d walk if he had to.