Raven Strike

There was a low thud as it exploded. The corner of the building imploded, crumbling in on itself.

“Osprey, what’s your status?” said Da

“We’re intact, Colonel. We’re on the ground. We have problems with one engine.”

“Can you fly?”

“We’re checking the systems. We should be able to, but I don’t know what our payload will be. I’m just not sure yet, Colonel.”

“Roger that. Keep me informed.”

My fault for letting them get too damn close, Da

“Colonel, doesn’t look like we have any more resistance,” said Sugar. She was on the other side of the building. “No more activity. No gunfire.”

“Hold your positions,” he answered.

Whether he’d been too aggressive in bringing the Osprey up close, Da

But what did fifteen percent really mean? Da

It was better just to go with your gut.

“All right, team up,” he barked. “Shug, you know how this is done. Anything moves, nail it down. With prejudice.”

Sugar quickly organized a small group to enter the building. Rather than going through the front door, they blew a hole in the side, tossed grenades in for good measure, then entered in undertaker mode: anything that was alive wouldn’t be when they were done.

Da

“Secure,” said Sugar finally. “We have seven individuals, all dead, on the main floor. Checking the rest.”

“Seven?” It was several more than MY-PID had predicted.

“There’s a basement, Colonel. Looks like they might have been sleeping or hiding down there.”

“Roger that.” He flipped up his shield. Melissa was standing nearby, looking at him.

“Nothing so far,” he told her.

“I want to go in.”

“I don’t know if it’s safe.”

“If it’s safe for them, it’s safe for me. This is my deal.”

“All right.”

“Where’s Li Han inside?”

“He’s still back at the other house.” MY-PID had the other building under surveillance; no one had moved inside.

“Don’t you think that’s strange? He missed an appointment here,” added Melissa. “With all the fighting? He’s still just sitting there?”

“You’ve been watching him, you tell me. You say he’s patient—he sat in a cave for weeks.”

“True.”

The damage to the Osprey upset Da

“Boston, you on the circuit?” he asked.

Boston didn’t answer right away. Da

Then he saw why.

“Busy at the moment, Colonel,” answered Boston. “How long before that Osprey gets here?”

“We have a problem with the bird,” said Da

“Dozen tangos in the weeds. I have it under control.”

There was a burst of gunfire.

“We’ll be there as soon as we can,” Da

Melissa stepped through the hole in the side of the building, then moved to the side, trying to get her eyes to adjust. It was dark outside but even darker in here; she saw absolutely nothing.

One of the Whiplash people loomed in front of her, the black combat gear making him blend into the background.

Her blend into the background. It was Sugar.

“Ms. Ilse?”

“Yes. Are any of the people in the house Mao Man—Li Han, the Chinese agent?”

“No Asians. All African. There’s gear and what looks like the UAV in the basement,” said Sugar. “Can you come this way?”

“OK.”

“Uh, you can’t really see, can you?”

“No.”

Sugar reached to her sleeve and flipped on a light. An LED beacon was sewn into the cuff. “Better?”

“Much,” said Melissa. She followed the trooper to a door near the front of the house and descended a set of steps. There was a body halfway down, riddled with bullets. The blood on the steps below was still wet.

Melissa scooped up the AK-47 at the bottom of the stairs.

“This way,” said Sugar, leading her to the side.

The Raven UAV sat in the middle of the basement. It was missing a wing and part of the tail section. Part of the fuselage had been disassembled, and the cover for the computer area was missing as well. Melissa rushed over to it, sliding to her knees to examine it like a child rushing to open presents on Christmas.

The computer was missing.

Shit. Damn.

She looked up at Sugar.

“We need to search the basement and the rest of the house for circuitry, memory boards,” she told her. “Anything that looks like a computer.”

Chapter 26

Duka

When Nuri heard the gunfire in the field, he glanced at the women. They stared at him blankly, sharing the frozen expression of people resigned to a terrible fate. Even Bloom seemed to have given up. Her lips were moving rapidly though no sound came from her mouth.

She was praying, he realized.

Only the newborn seemed to have any spirit left—his eyes darted around, still in wonder at the wide world around him.

No way was he going to get them to move.

“All right, I need you to stay here,” he told Bloom. “Whatever happens, stay hidden. You understand? Do you understand?”

She didn’t answer.

“Hey!” Nuri started to shout, then realized that wasn’t wise. The result was a loud hiss, foreign even to him. He grabbed Bloom’s arm and shook her. “Do you hear me? You’re going to stay. All of you.”

“We stay,” she repeated.

Nuri took his Beretta from its holster. “Use this if you need it,” he told her.

She stared at it.

“If you need it,” he told her, pushing it at her.

What he meant was—kill yourself and the women so you don’t have to suffer if the bastards get past us. But he couldn’t say that.

Bloom remained frozen.

“It’s here,” he told her, putting it down. “I’ll be back. Watch them.”

Nuri pushed into a crouch, then scooted to his right, deciding he would take the bastards in the field from the side opposite Boston, catching them in a cross fire. Unlike Boston, he didn’t have a combat helmet, which meant he didn’t have night vision. But he didn’t mind it: he could see the outlines of the field and where the enemy was, and he could move without the claustrophobic sense helmets always gave him.

“Boston, I’m going behind them,” he said over the team radio circuit.

“Move the women back.”

“They ain’t movin’. You keep these guys’ attention, I’ll nail them from behind.”

Nuri scuttled along the edge of the woods, his enemy to his left. He wasn’t exactly sure how much room to give them before turning. He simply ran for a few seconds, glanced to see where the gun flashes were, then ran a little more. Finally he threw himself down and began crawling in the field.

The Sudan First fighters were clustered near the dirt road where they’d crossed, scattered in a staggered line about four men deep. They’d only had rudimentary training. Besides being packed relatively closely and not recognizing that they were opposed by a single man, they fired wildly, wasting bullets and not coming close to their target.