Raven Strike

Boston led the way around the outskirts of the woods, hiking toward the north-south highway that ran through the city to the south. There was still a glow from the center of town; the air smelled of burnt wood and grass. Sudan First appeared to have wiped out Meurtre Musique, but the rebels had lost so many people that in all likelihood the city would eventually be abandoned.

They were just in sight of the picket Da

“Why’d you bring the women?” asked Da

“I didn’t know what else to do with them,” said Nuri.

“They can’t stay with us.”

“I know, but we can get them to a refugee camp or something.”

“Where?”

“I don’t know.” Nuri turned to find Bloom. She was walking with the woman who’d given birth, moving mechanically.

“We’re going to take you to a camp,” he said. “Where would be the best place?”

Instead of answering, Bloom reached her hands out to take the baby.

“A camp,” said Nuri, reluctantly turning him over. “Where would the best one be?”

“Maybe you should ask which is the least worst,” said Melissa. “I’ll talk to her.”

“It’s all right. I have it under control,” said Nuri.

“She’s not talking to you.”

“She’s not going to talk to you either.”

But Bloom did, haltingly and in a faraway voice. She suggested a place called Camp Feroq, which was run by her relief organization a hundred miles southwest.

“I never heard of it,” said Nuri.

“I’m sure we can find it.”

Nuri found himself arguing against it, though he wasn’t exactly sure why. He told Melissa that they should be relocated somewhere nearby, which would make it possible for them to eventually return. Yet he knew that wasn’t logical at all.

“You just suggested they go to a camp themselves,” said Da

“Most of them are hellholes,” answered Nuri. But he knew Da

As far as Da

Before he dealt with that, he needed to finish the search and pick up the Russian.

Given the fact that Nuri could speak Russian, it made sense that he come on the mission, which would be launched from the backup Osprey. Melissa wanted to go as well. Da

“I know what the flight computer looks like,” she argued. “You need somebody along who can identify it.”

“It’s a frickin’ computer,” snapped Nuri. “How hard is that to figure out?”

“The Osprey’s going to be pretty packed with the combat team,” said Da

She finally agreed. Aboard the aircraft, Nuri asked Da

“I’m not being nice to her.”

“She’s been lying to us the whole time,” said Nuri, standing over him as the aircraft spun toward the hills.

“When has she lied?”

“She hasn’t told us the whole story,” said Nuri. “She’s trying to save her ass and take the credit for getting all the pieces back.”

“I don’t know about that.”

“Don’t let these Agency types bulldoze you. They’re sweeter than crap to your face, then you find out they’ve been knifing you in the back.”

“Sometimes you act like you got a stick up your ass,” Da

The pilot a

Exhausted, Kimko lay on the ground, halfway between sleep and consciousness. His mind threw thoughts out in odd patterns, numbers mixing with ideas, old memories filtering into what he saw around himself in the jungle.

Most of all he wanted vodka.

Kimko thought about letting go and falling asleep. But it would be the same as accepting failure, and that he could not do. So after a long time on the ground he took a deep, slow breath and struggled to his feet.

There were noises around him—wind rushing by. He turned quickly, sure he was being followed by some animal, but nothing appeared.

No, he was alone, very alone, lost in the middle of Africa and sure to die here, thirsty and tired, a spy, unknown and unloved.

His mind wandered even as he tried to focus on the jungle before him. He saw his ex-wife and spit at her.

He looked down at the ground, looking for the path.

When he looked up, a man in a black battle dress was standing before him.

Kimko turned. There were two more. He was surrounded.

Not by soldiers, by aliens.

A short, youthful man with wide shoulders appeared behind them. He spoke Russian. He was a human.

“Where is the control unit for the UAV?” asked the man. “The flight computer. What did you do with it?”

“What are you talking about?” asked Kimko.

The man raised his pistol and held it in his face.

“Tell me,” said the man.

Kimko jerked away, but one of the aliens grabbed him by the shoulder. The grip was intense. It drained all of his strength away.

“Where is the control unit?” demanded the short man, pointing the gun directly at his forehead.

“I have no idea—”

The gun went off. The bullet flew by his head.

Am I dead?

I’m dead.

No, no, it’s an old trick. Intimidation. I’ve done this myself. I’ve done this.

It’s a trick.

“You are coming with us,” said the man.

Was he dead? Had Girma the idiot shot him after all?

Kimko started to struggle. This was real, though it didn’t make any sense—he pushed and threw his fists.

“You’re not taking me alive!” he yelled.

But as the words escaped his mouth, he smelled something sweet in his nose. Something was poking his back, poking him in a million places.

Sleep, said a voice inside his brain. Sleep.

Milos Kimko collapsed to the ground, already starting to snore.

“Sounds like he’s got a breathing problem,” Da

“He’s OK,” said Sugar, checking him over. “That Demerol will keep him out for a while.”

“Nolan, you and Shorty see if you can backtrack the trail he came up through. See if he threw anything away,” said Da

The two men set out. The rest of the team fa

“Searching’s a waste of time,” said Nuri. “He never got it. I’m begi

“They needed something to fly the plane,” said Da

“Maybe Melissa took it and she’s been lying all this time.”

“What do you have against her?”

“I told you, Da

Da

“I want to take him to Ethiopia and question him,” said Nuri.

“That’s fine.”

“We’ll know what he knows in a few hours. But best bet now is probably the Brother who killed Li Han. That’s who we need to find.”