“And you know where to look?”
She nodded and said nothing.
“So, if we make it, and Ngige’s men don’t capture us in Mao — how do you propose we get out without being caught?”
“I have a friend. A good friend. He comes and goes from time to time. He owns a small plane. A Beechcraft Bonanza 36. Runs a private charter and supply service throughout the region. He’ll get us out. That’s if we survive long enough to reach Mao.”
Chapter Thirty
They walked through the day and most of the night, pausing infrequently to drink and rest. Zara took the slightest sigh of relief when she noticed the plume of sand completely absent from the horizon when the first light of the predawn sun finally broke the next morning.
By midday it sweltered to 121 degrees Fahrenheit. She stopped to drink and stared at her two companions. They both looked tired, but nowhere near as much as they should have been. She remembered reading somewhere that Sam Reilly spent time in some sort of military specialist forces unit before turning to a unique career in both marine biology and maritime archeology. She knew very little about his friend, Tom.
Were they both still members of an elite armed force?
Or were they here as mercenaries?
She doubted it. Sam Reilly was much too rich to offer his services as a mercenary. Besides, she’d never heard of a Tuareg nomad crossing a desert on foot with such ease, which meant they were using some sort of mechanical device to assist. But how, she couldn’t imagine.
She watched both men from a distance. They appeared to be chatting amongst themselves as though they were old friends out for a stroll without a care in the world. Part of Sam’s desert robe had loosened and opened at the back. She saw he wore a shirt underneath. It was silver and shimmered remarkably. For a moment she wondered if it was the intense heat playing tricks on her eyes, like a mirage — before she grinned with understanding.
Got you, you bastards!
She carefully replaced the lid to her water flask and swung it’s strap over her shoulder, before hurrying to catch up with both men who were now walking side by side, chatting. “All right, one of you want to tell me why you were really here?” she asked.
“What do you mean?” Sam asked.
Tom shrugged as though the conversation wasn’t for him, and picked up his pace to distance himself. She watched as he continued following the same bearing they’d been on for the past twenty-four hours.
“At first I thought you and Tom were hardened, ex-soldiers, capable of super human stamina. I’ve never seen a westerner walk through the Sahara during the hottest times of the day, almost unaffected by the sweltering heat. Then I realized you’re wearing some sort of temperature suit. I’ve read about them. Real expensive. Mainly used in the military. Kind of experimental, although, if you two are anything to go by, I guess they’re no longer experimental.”
She stared at Sam’s face for a reaction, but he gave none and remained silent.
“So, what’s your story?”
“What story?”
“What were you really doing in the Sahara with those dive tanks?” Her eyes fixed on his with mesmerizing scrutiny.
Sam met her gaze and to his own surprise, offered her the truth, or a very near version of it. “We were looking for about five million dollars of raw diamonds.”
She asked, “Why?”
“Does anyone ever need an excuse to want to find five million dollars?”
“I mean, why do you care?” Zara asked. “I may have read a little more than the one dissertation about the Mahogany Ship. I know a little about you. Your father owns Global Shipping and you manage a strange offshoot called Deep See Projects. Until recently, most people assumed you were the typical third generation in a wealthy family.”
Sam stared at her blankly, betraying little recognition.
She smiled. “The third in a wealthy generation often spends the fortune the earlier two had spent their lives accumulating. Interestingly, in recent years, you’ve created some wealth in your own right, made significant archeological findings, assisted several governments in complex ocean problems, and made quite a name for yourself as a bit of a trouble shooter.”
Zara stared at him, waiting for a sign of acknowledgement. Either agreement that she was right, or an attempt to clear up her version of his life’s history. When she didn’t receive one she said, “So, you’re looking for diamonds?”
He nodded his head, but remained silent.
“In the Saharan desert?” She smiled. It was practiced, and teasing, generally capable of making any man open up to her. “Not a lot of diamonds found in the Sahara, you know.”
“I know, we didn’t find any,” Sam said.
“Are you going to tell me anything, or shall we go our own ways.”
“That depends,” Sam said.
“On what?”
“On how much you know about the United Sovereignty of Kongo?”
“Nothing,” she lied. “Should I have?”
“They were a small group of people who wanted to overthrow the current dictatorship in the Democratic Republic of Congo. Their leader stems from a modern-day Bundu dia Kongo sect favoring the reviving of the original kingdom of Kongo through secession from Angola, the Republic of the Congo, the Democratic Republic of the Congo, and Gabon.”
She projected an appearance of indifference, but her mind immediately raced to her self-professed body guard in Sahara, Adebowale. He had once told her his family, who were leaders in the Bundu dia Kongo movement had been killed when he was just a young boy, and he’d spent his entire life trying to find a means of returning. Adebowale had told her their two lives had been intertwined for centuries since his great ancestor, a Kongo king, had been saved by her great ancestor — and that one day, the great prophecy would come true, and their families would unite Africa with a success never before seen throughout history.
“So, what’s new?” she asked.
“This one has the backing of the U.S. Government.”
Chapter Thirty-One
She walked in silence for a while. Contemplating what Sam had told her. It seemed impossible to her, but so did a lot of other things until forty-eight hours ago.
Is it possible Nostradamus knew I would meet Sam Reilly?
She asked. “I thought you guys didn’t take sides anymore in non-elected rebellions and leadership coups. Didn’t you learn your lesson, after Saddam Hussein?”
Sam smiled, like he’d heard the same argument before. “We don’t. Not publically, anyway. But they have a new leader, and this guy looks to be the real deal. Someone who might just have a chance of stopping the merry-go-round cycle of changing dictatorships, each one more ruthless and dangerous than his predecessor. Current Intelligence Agencies from around the world believe the current dictator is going to send Africa into one of the greatest wars the world has ever seen. In contrast, our person has the chance to bring some real long-term stability to the region. He paid a hundred million dollars in uncut diamonds in exchange for modern weapons to initiate his coup. An American agent confirmed the diamond exchange had taken place, and was just in the process of extracting the diamonds when he went missing.”
“Who’s the guy?” she asked.
“What guy?”
“Who’s the leader of the United Sovereign of Kongo?”
“We don’t really know.”
She stared at him, flummoxed. “Your government offered a hundred million dollars worth of weapons to fund a coup, whose leader you don’t even know?”