Whiplash

The Global Hawk that had been detailed to the team the night before had gone on to other assignments. In its place, Da

As a side benefit, the blimps also lofted radio ante

Short-term reco

THERE WERE THREE REBEL CAMPS IN THE REGION THAT HAD had dealings with Jasmine. Nuri had scouted them all but not yet bugged them. With the defenses shaping up, it was time to start. He chose as his first target the village controlled by a rebel named Tura Dpap, sixty-two miles southwest of Base Camp Alpha. He saw it as a relatively straightforward job.

Da

“There’s no way we can get enough firepower down past these guys if there’s a problem,” said Da

“It’s not a military operation, Colonel,” said Nuri. He chafed at Da

“I appreciate that. I’m just worried about you getting in trouble. Like the other night.”

“That worked out fine, didn’t it? That’s the way it goes sometimes. You gotta take risks. That’s the game.”

Nuri got up to refill his coffee cup from the pot on the camp stove at the side. The coffee was bitter and burnt.

“Someone should go in with you to help cover your back,” said Da

Nuri didn’t think that was necessary, but it wasn’t worth arguing about. “I’ll take Hera,” he said. He didn’t know her well at all, but she was fellow CIA, could speak Arabic, and most important, was good-looking. “We’ll go looking for supplies. It should only take us a few hours.”

“Fine,” said Da

“Don’t forget we’re supposed to be setting up a dig here,” said Nuri. “That has to be laid out as soon as possible.”

“I didn’t forget.” Da

NURI DECIDED IT WAS WISER TO TAKE THE BUS INTO THE village, since it would be more in keeping with the cover story of scientists bumbling their way through unfamiliar territory. This was just fine with Abul, who was chafing at the way Da

Hera dressed in a pair of very baggy pants and a pair of man-style shirts, along with hiking boots and a black cap whose peak hid much of her face. Her intent was to appear drab and boring, but Nuri thought she looked like the most beautiful woman he had ever seen.

The only problem with her outfit was her unusual accessory—a SCAR rifle. Nuri had his hideaway strapped to his calf, hidden by his long pants. It was the only weapon he pla

Hera had other plans.

“You can’t bring the rifle,” he told her as she slung the SCAR over her shoulder.

“Why not?”

“Because they may inspect the bus. How many paleontologists go around with military rifles?”

“At least one,” said Hera. “Me.”

“You can bring an AK.”

“That’s an old piece of garbage.”

“It works.”

“Excuse me,” said Abul, “but if you want my opinion—”

“We don’t,” snapped Hera.

“I do,” said Nuri.

“It’s more dangerous to be armed,” said the bus driver. “The movement has been pretty benign toward westerners.”

“Benign?” said Hera. “Like Red Henri?”

“I’ve carried the rifle with me on the bike the whole week,” said Nuri.

“I would wager that it has attracted much attention. When people see it, they immediately are on their guard.”

“We can’t go without protection,” said Hera. “That’d be nuts.”

“You can hide the guns inside the seats,” suggested Flash, who was nearby, listening to the conversation. “Cut holes in them.”

“You ca

Nuri thought this was just a bargaining position, but the bus driver/owner turned out to be almost fanatically dedicated to preserving the interior of his bus; the most he would allow were slits in the underside big enough to hide ammunition. Looking over the interior, Nuri realized he could hide two SCAR rifles in the space beneath the dashboard, as long as the guts of the blower were removed. This meant doing without the air-conditioning, which hadn’t worked all that well to begin with.

“This is a driving inferno,” complained Hera as they drove south. “A slow one, too.”

Nuri shrugged. He was begi

“The breeze is very pleasant,” said Abul. “Imagine if we were in the desert instead of the hills.”

“There’s plenty of desert around.”

“No, no, no. This isn’t desert. This is the very nice part of the Sudan.”

“It’s lovely.”

“There is much water the further south we go. Swamps.”

“Just like New Jersey.”

She meant it as an insult, but since Abul had never been to New Jersey—and in fact didn’t know where it was—he took it as a compliment.

The rebel soldiers who guarded the village approach during the day flagged down the bus with the professional boredom of conductors taking tickets on a morning commuter train. One came aboard, glanced at Nuri and Hera, then told Abul that the tax was ten dollars American to pass.

“Ten dollars?” said Nuri in Arabic. “Why so much?”

The soldier glanced at him, reassessing his appearance. He was dressed like a European. More than likely he was one, but if he wasn’t, he should be taxed like one for trying to ape them.

And the woman was also foreign.

“Ten,” the soldier told Abul.