Whiplash

“Clear,” said one of the bodyguards.

The front doors of the lead Land Cruiser popped open simultaneously. Da

Way over the top, Da

Da

And he was definitely acting the part of an outlaw—Mr. Kirk, a supposed renegade from America, or maybe Libya, or maybe parts unknown—with guns and ammunition to sell.

If the murmurs around him were any indication, his act was going over big.

“Where is Uncle Dpap?” said Da

A few of the older rebels exchanged glances. One headed toward the church door, where he was met by Commander John.

The guards at the northeastern end of town had alerted Uncle Dpap to the Land Cruisers and their occupants. The vehicles alone made it clear what the man was up to, and Uncle Dpap had told the guards to let them proceed.

“Who are you?” demanded Commander John.

“You can call me Mr. Kirk. I’m here to see your brother,” said Da

“My brother is not here.”

Da

“This is incorrect,” added the Voice, which was monitoring the bug Nuri had placed inside the headquarters two days before. “Uncle Dpap is working at his desk.”

Da

“What are you standing there for?” said Commander John. “Have you come here for business? If so, you will deal with me.”

“Where is Uncle Dpap?” Da

“Deal with me,” said Commander John. Since being a tough guy wasn’t working, he decided to try a different tact. “Let us get something to drink.”

The computer translated, and when Da

“Thank you for your hospitality,” offered MY-PID, first in English, then in Arabic.

“Where is Uncle Dpap?” insisted Da

Commander John frowned, then walked into the store. He came out with a pair of Cokes and the storekeeper.

“Here,” he said, holding one out to Da

Da

Boston took the drink, sipped, then handed it back to Da

“You don’t trust me?” said Commander John.

“No,” said Da

The Voice gave him the word in Arabic, but Da

“You are English?” said Commander John.

“I am not a citizen of any country,” said Da

“Sit, sit,” said Commander John, gesturing toward a table. “Come, let us talk.”

Da

“I speak only to Uncle Dpap,” he told Commander John, first in English, then in Arabic.

Commander John was so befuddled by the stranger that he didn’t even wonder why he was translating from English into Arabic if he spoke English. He noticed the earphone clipped into Da

“My brother will speak to you. But first, some refreshment. Drink.”

Commander John took a long guzzle from the bottle. Da

“Your men should have something as well,” Commander John said. He gestured to the shopkeeper.

“My men are paid not to want anything,” said Da

The members of the team—all mercenaries hired in Gambella—stiffened. A few were thirsty, but the outlaw arms dealer had already paid them the equivalent of three months’ wages, with the promise of three more at the end of the week.

Uncle Dpap had listened to the conversation from the door of the church. Deciding he’d heard enough, he signaled Tilia to accompany him and went outside. Pausing on the steps, he gazed across the street at his brother and the stranger.

Was this the answer to his prayers? Or an agent of the government?

If the latter, the man would not leave the village alive.

THREE MILES AWAY, SITTING IN ABUL’S BUS, NURI WATCHED a laptop displaying the feed from one of the video bugs they’d stuck on the roof of the Land Cruisers. He was just far enough away not to be seen, but close enough to rally to Da

Maybe. Flash and McGowan were with him, and while he had no doubt they were good at what they did, three against thirty was still pretty poor odds.

Da

To a point. If Uncle Dpap became so nervous he felt he was in danger, he might order his men to open fire. The trick was not to make him quite that nervous. But Da

“I’d rather stay in the sun,” said Da

He’s good, thought Nuri. He almost has me believing he’s a scumbag.

“WHERE IS THIS AMMUNITION? YOU HAVE IT IN YOUR trucks?” demanded Uncle Dpap.

“I’m not stupid,” said Da

“How can I trust you?”

“You shouldn’t trust me,” said Da

Uncle Dpap looked back at him with surprise when Tilia told him what he had said.

“You shouldn’t trust anyone,” explained Da

The question angered Uncle Dpap. “I heard that he was killed by police in Europe,” said the rebel. “But maybe you killed him.”

“Your friend was a very small operator. The business he did was minor compared to the business I do.”

“So why are you offering to sell me anything?” said Uncle Dpap. “If I am a small ant to you, I’m not worth your time.”

“You’re not an ant.” Da

Uncle Dpap knew sweet talk when he heard it, and frowned.

“My problem is my overhead, my expenses,” continued Da

“That is impossible,” said Uncle Dpap. “We do not work together.”

Da

Uncle Dpap’s men jumped to alert. Da

“Here,” said Da

He held the gun out. Uncle Dpap looked at it suspiciously.

“It’s a present,” said Da

Uncle Dpap grabbed it and pointed it at Da

“If you want to shoot me…” Da