Whiplash

“We have to stay away from the people who blew up the camp,” he told them. “Go, before they pay attention to us.”

“Saad Reth is a long walk from here,” said one of the men, noticing his limp.

“The distance doesn’t matter.” Tarid pushed himself forward. “The army will be after Kirk, and we’ll be long gone. Come. As fast as you can.”

DANNY FOUND TILIA HUNCHED AGAINST THE FENCE. HER fists were clenched and propped against the side of her head, arms crossed at the wrists. He knelt down and touched her shoulder.

“Tilia?”

Her body heaved but she didn’t raise her head or talk.

“Come on then,” said Da

Nuri was still firing at the machine-gun posts on the north side of the camp, but there was only sporadic return fire. The Sudanese army officers were regrouping their men, mustering for a counterattack. The battle had seemed to last for an eternity, but barely ten minutes had passed since the Catbirds initiated the onslaught.

Hera was waiting at the fence when Da

“Did you send Tarid through?” Da

“Yes. Where’s McGowan?”

“I know where he is. You think you can carry her?”

“Is she coming with us?”

“Yeah. We’ll drop her off along the way.”

“I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

“I don’t care what you think. Take her.”

Da

Da

But the only mistake was where he had left him. A moment later Da

As gently as he could, he picked up the battered body and double-timed it through the disabled portion of the minefield.

“Skipper, we got problems here,” said Boston over the radio. “Every one of these bastards wants to come with us. And I can’t find Tarid.”

Da

“It’s OK,” said Da

“Yeah, here she comes now.”

“I’m sixty seconds away.”

“What do I do with these people?”

“Tell them to run.”

Da

“Jesus, is that McGowan?” said Boston as Da

“Let’s go, Boston.”

“Shit.”

“I said, go.”

“Yeah, all right, Cap. I’m sorry.”

Boston climbed in. The mercenaries squeezed into the back.

“Go south two miles and stop,” Da

The truck’s rattle settled after a minute, and they rode in relative silence across the empty land. The rain had started to let up.

“Everybody out,” said Da

He went around to the back and got a blanket from the wheel well. He wrapped McGowan’s body in it and set him down in the back.

Tarid, meanwhile, had continued to the northwest. The Voice located him near a village named Saad Reth.

“Nuri, what’s in Saad Reth?” Da

“Not much. Little village.”

“You think Tarid can find transportation there?”

“Maybe. If he has friends there. Hard to say.”

“Colonel, your lady friend wants to talk to you,” said Hera.

“She’s not my lady friend,” said Da

“Whatever. She wants to talk to you.”

Hera needed a serious attitude adjustment, but now wasn’t the time. Da

“Am I your prisoner now?” she asked.

“You’re not our prisoner. We just rescued you.”

“Who are you?”

“Kirk.”

“They were calling you colonel.”

“I was once. I was a lot of things.”

Tilia stared at him. She wanted desperately to believe in something—she wanted to believe in him. But whatever world he belonged to, it was too far removed from hers. And hers had just imploded.

“We’ll get you back to your village,” said Da

“No.”

“Where do you want to go?”

“I don’t want to go anywhere.”

“I can’t just leave you here. Come on. You can come with me.”

Tilia straightened. One of the Sudanese medics had bandaged the bullet wounds in her shoulder. Her pelvis and abdomen were on fire, but the pain did not prevent her from walking.

“I have to pee,” she told him defiantly.

“All right.” Da

“I want some privacy,” she said.

“Sure.”

He went back to the truck. Tilia began walking toward one of the mercenaries, who smiled when he saw her coming. Even with her wounds, even in the dark and the rain, she was a beauty.

The look in his eyes revolted her, but she continued toward him. The young man smiled nervously, unsure what she was doing. She put her hand gently on his arm, then leaned up, lips pursed as if to kiss him.

He couldn’t believe his luck—he bent forward to return the kiss.

As he did, Tilia grabbed the rifle from his hand. She spun it around, put her thumb on the trigger, and blew a hole through her head.

36

North central Iran

BANI ABERHADJI COULDN’T BELIEVE WHAT HE WAS HEARING. The president of Iran, Darab Kasra, was traveling to America—the Satan Incarnate—in a few days’ time.

Treason.

Blasphemy.

“We can’t allow this,” Aberhadji said. “We ca

General Taher Banh

“How could he make such a decision without consulting the Revolutionary Guard?” continued Aberhadji. “Did this come from the ayatollahs?”

“He must have spoken to them,” said Banh

“You are the head of the Guard, and the council,” said Aberhadji. “You weren’t consulted?”

“No.”

“That is an insult. An insult to all of us. They feel—they think we are worms to be disregarded.”

Aberhadji’s anger consumed him. He stalked back and forth across the general’s office, as if some of it might dissipate.

But it didn’t.

“We can shoot him this morning, this afternoon. Blow up his house. Blow up his car, his plane,” said Aberhadji.

Banh

“Calm down? Our country is being led by a traitor and blasphemer. We are being led back to the days of the Shah!”

“The black robes are still in charge.”

“Do you think they authorized this? This?”

Aberhadji could not fathom that it was possible. Banh

He struggled to think logically.

“The president will have no support when he comes back,” said the general. “This will end him with the people.”

Aberhadji felt as if his brain was unraveling. He had never been guided by emotion—and yet his feelings now were overwhelming. There was no way to be calm before such a gross provocation.

“He’ll remain in office. And he has the army,” said Aberhadji. “Better to strike then, kill him there.”