Raven Strike

His head was pounding. He paused as the aircraft settled down, counting his men to make sure they were all there. Flash had cut their prisoner’s leg restraints away, but he held his man by the arms as they moved double-time toward the rear of the Osprey. The prisoner was small and ski

Sugar had the other POW on her back. This one was tall—close to six feet—but just as ski

Both were probably useless, Da

“We’re all here, Cap,” said Boston, taking up the rear.

“All right, let’s get the hell out of here.”

“What happened?” asked Boston as they ran up the MV-22’s ramp.

“They booby-trapped the door of the truck and we missed it,” said Da

Chapter 15

Duka

Li Han crouched at the edge of the culvert, watching as the Osprey rose. Its wings began to tip forward; it seemed to stutter to the right, and for a moment he thought it would crash. But the stutter was an optical illusion—the aircraft pivoted, turning away smoothly as it accelerated into the distance.

He had a clear shot for a Stinger missile.

But even if he’d had an antiaircraft weapon ready, it would have been foolish to attack. The aircraft was undoubtedly equipped with a detector and countermeasures, and even if he did succeed in taking it down, he’d be telling them he was still nearby. Better to remain a mystery.

Afraid he might be given away by the locals, Li Han had slipped out of the warehouse with Amara and most of the others, taking over a house about a quarter of a mile away and working on the UAV there. But even that had seemed too close, too small a precaution—as soon as he’d heard the explosion, Li Han had taken Amara with him and run from the building, using a door in the basement.

Now he felt just a bit like a coward.

But caution was always in order, especially when dealing with the Americans.

“What now?” asked Amara behind him.

“We’ll go back inside the house,” said Li Han, thinking. “They won’t attack again tonight.”

They would be watching. He’d have to lay low for a while.

What if he sold the UAV back to the Americans? They’d certainly be motivated buyers.

Amara might be able to broker the deal. He was a little puny physically, but he was smart. And the sight of Swal being shot hadn’t u

“Are we going?” asked Amara. “How long can we stay in this city?”

“Your English is getting better all the time,” said Li Han.

“You didn’t answer the question.”

Li Han smiled to him, then turned and led the way back to the house.

Chapter 16

Room 4, CIA Campus

Reid flicked off the viewer as the Osprey took off. He didn’t like monitoring the missions; there was too much temptation to micromanage. When he was in the field, he would never have allowed it.

But times were different now. The best he could do was not interfere.

He was about to call Brea

“You’re psychic,” he told her, picking up the phone. “I was just about to contact you.”

“Do we have it?”

“Regrettably, no. The tracking transmitter was removed from the body of the UAV. It was booby-trapped, but we had no injuries.”

“Well that’s something, at least.”

“We’re reasonably sure that the UAV itself remains in Duka. But at the moment I think even that’s a guess. Nuri is pla

“The replacement satellite should be on station in a few hours,” said Brea

“That shouldn’t be an immediate problem.”

“We may need more force there,” added Brea

“The military side is your prerogative,” said Reid. “But I can’t emphasize enough that we have to be very quiet about it. If the Iranians or the Chinese or anyone else sees we’re making a big fuss, they may get nosy. Even if we recover Raven at that point, we may have jeopardized the weapon.”

“I understand, and Da

“I did.” Reid stopped pacing. “I’m going to talk to Edmund again. Based on that conversation . . . Based on that conversation, I may have to talk to the President. A number of things trouble me.”

“Do you want me to come?”

“I think under the circumstances it would be best if I handled that myself,” said Reid. “I still don’t have the whole picture. Whether Edmund will give it to me or not remains to be seen.”

Chapter 17

Duka

Milos Kimko stood in the shadow of the small hut, watching the aircraft fade into the distance. He was nearly three miles from where it had landed, but even without his binoculars he could tell it was an Osprey: only the American aircraft could move so quickly from a hover.

And what were the Americans doing in this forsaken corner of Africa? Taking sides with one of the two rebel groups who shared control of the town? Simply meeting with them?

Possibly. But what to make, then, of the explosion that had woken him?

The Russian rubbed his eyes. He was tired, physically worn by his job to assess the rebel movements in eastern Sudan. The SVR—Sluzhba Vneshney Razvedki, or Foreign Intelligence Service—had sent him to Khartoum a few weeks before, and he’d been traveling in the brush ever since.

He had a cover, and a side job, as an arms dealer. It was an excellent entrée to the locals, given the prices he was able to offer. The SVR subsidized the price; in fact, Kimko suspected his supervisors were keeping a portion of the money he sent back for themselves.

The sound of the Osprey’s engines faded. Kimko debated with himself. Should he go and see what they’d been up to now, or should he wait for the morning?

He’d been pla

But why not take a look around now? He had nothing better to do, truly. The fresh air felt good.

It would also take his mind off the fact that he desperately wanted a drink.

Kimko went back inside. The round hut was tiny, a one room refuge that combined a bedroom, sitting area, and primitive kitchen in the space of four or five square meters. He went to his knapsack on the far side of the bed and took out his gun and holster; he picked up his thick sweater from the floor where it had fallen. He was still losing weight—even with the sweater and the shoulder holster, the jacket hung from his shoulders like an oversized bathrobe, two or three sizes too large. Not long ago it had been tight.