Whiplash

25

Danny’s butterflies morphed into beasts, roiling his stomach. Everyone around him tensed.

“Just so you know, Colonel, the man behind me has his rifle pointed at you,” he said. “If I go down, you go down.”

The Voice had been preparing Arabic translations of his English for him to use. He did so now, repeating the words so there would be no mistake.

“If you fire,” said Colonel Zsar, “you’ll never get out of here alive.”

“There are enough explosives in the trucks to take care of all of us,” answered Danny. “So let’s all of us calm down. What deal is it you want?”

Tarid was angry with Colonel Zsar, who was being reckless. He suspected that he was trying to impress Uncle Dpap, who had said almost nothing the entire night.

Or maybe the girl, whom he kept stealing glances at.

“Give us a price for five hundred guns, and a hundred thousand rounds of ammunition,” said Colonel Zsar. “And we will discuss it.”

“Fine.”

Danny told them they could have everything for sixty thousand, American.

“Half when you place the order. Another quarter paid the day before the exchange. And the rest at the exchange. It will be cash, placed where we say.”

“We prefer to deal in euros,” said Tarid.

“Euros are fine.”

“Vehicles are within three miles,” warned the Voice. “They will be within audible distance in thirty seconds.”

Danny put his hand to his ear. The others thought he was talking to one of his men.

“ID?” he asked.

“The guerrilla faction aligned with Red Henri.”

“I thought you told me Red Henri wasn’t invited to the party,” Danny said to the others.

“He’s not,” said Colonel Zsar.

“My lookout says he’s about three miles away.”

“What?” said Uncle Dpap.

“Impossible,” said Colonel Zsar.

“Listen,” said Tarid.

They could hear the trucks in the distance.

“Get behind the vehicles!” yelled Uncle Dpap. “Prepare your weapons!”

“It’s time for you to leave, Mr. Kirk,” said Colonel Zsar. “We will contact you later.”

“What’s happening, boss?” asked Boston over the radio.

Danny ignored him. “I have no argument with Red Henri,” he told the rebels. “I’ll wait and see what he wants.”

“Not having an argument with you won’t keep him from shooting you,” said Tilia. “You had better leave, or take cover.”

“Get behind the trucks with the others,” Danny told his men over the radio. “Drivers, be ready to leave. Flash, you’re with me.”

Danny ran toward the vehicle where Tarid was crouched. But the rebel soldiers had swarmed around the Iranian and Colonel Zsar and he couldn’t get close without making it obvious he was trying to squeeze next to him.

As Danny ducked down, Red Henri’s ambulance siren began to wail, morphing through its different variations. The trucks carrying his troops spread out across the plain. A half-dozen flares shot into the air, shading the night red, as if it were an extension of Red Henri himself. The trucks veered around, turning in small circles about four hundred yards from Uncle Dpap’s and Colonel Zsar’s positions. Though they were well within range, no one on either side fired.

Red Henri, sitting in the back of his Hummer, took the microphone from his PA system.

“What happens when supposed allies are meeting behind my back?” he said. “So now I have three enemies — the government, Colonel Zsar, and Uncle Dpap. This is very disappointing. Especially from you, Uncle Dpap. Colonel Zsar believes he is holy, so we know not to fully trust him. We know this. But you, Uncle, are looked up to. I look up to you. And here — a stab in the back.”

The Voice translated everything for Danny, with only a slight delay.

“Estimate Red Henri’s force,” Danny asked the computer.

“Ninety-eight soldiers in twenty-three vehicles. Six heavy machine guns. Two RPG-7 launchers. Sixty-eight AK-47 rifles of varying types. Six M-16s. One M-14. Additional weapons possible but not observed.”

Colonel Zsar had fourteen men with him, plus Tarid; Uncle Dpap had twenty. They had nothing heavier than rifles.

Every muscle in Danny’s body began to contract, tightening themselves around his nerves and squeezing hard.

He could get away by ordering the Catbirds to dive-bomb Red Henri’s force. He’d plunge through the bodyguards, swat Tarid, and run off in the confusion. But his legs were stiff and heavy, and he felt as if he couldn’t move.

Red Henri was genuinely upset, hurt by what he interpreted as a stab in the back.

“Uncle Dpap, are you so ashamed that you can’t even speak?” he shouted.

“This man claims to have weapons for sale at a very good price,” said Uncle Dpap. “We decided to check it out.”

“Without me?”

“We didn’t want to waste your time if he proved phony,” said Uncle Dpap soothingly. “You are a very busy man.”

“We are on the same side,” shouted Colonel Zsar. “We should be fighting the government, not each other.”

“I am not fighting you,” answered Red Henri. “Why are you planning to fight me?”

Danny pushed out of his crouch. “I was hoping to meet with you personally,” he shouted. His throat was so dry his voice cracked. “I did not want to insult you by having you share your time with the others.”

Though he modeled himself after American rap stars, among others, Red Henri’s command of English was not very good, and he didn’t immediately respond.

“Translate,” Danny told the Voice. He repeated the Arabic it fed him. “You represent a large order,” Danny added, first in English, then in Arabic. “And you will need special weapons, and personal care. You’re a VIP.”

Red Henri’s ego was mollified, even though he didn’t believe him.

“That’s as it should be,” said the rebel. “But now that I am here, what sort of deal can you arrange?”

“We should talk close together,” said Danny. “I can’t keep shouting.”

“Come here, then.”

Danny had backed himself into a corner. His whole reason for coming was to tag Tarid. But there were too many people between him and the Iranian, and going over to talk to Red Henri meant moving even farther away. Yet if he didn’t go, the others would think he was a coward and never deal with him again. Which wouldn’t be a problem, except that he needed to tag Tarid.

“Why don’t we meet halfway, with Colonel Zsar and Uncle Dpap, and their advisors,” suggested Danny. “There should be no secrets between you three. You are all allies.”

“You will come to me first and talk,” said Red Henri. “You will show the respect these others have not.”

“All right.”

Danny took a breath and started toward the rebel. The monsters in his stomach and chest had shrunk back to butterflies. Any second, he told himself, and they, too, would disappear.

“Aircraft approaching,” warned the Voice.

“What aircraft?” said Danny.

“Six helicopters. Two Aerospatiziale Gazelles, equipped with rockets. Four Mil Mi-8MTV Hip-H troop carriers. Aircraft have been supplied by the Egyptian army to Sudan for use in this theater.”

“ETA?”

“Two minutes at present speed.”

“Why are you standing there?” demanded Red Henri. “What are you doing?”

Danny put his hand to his ear, making a show of it.

“The Sudanese army is sending helicopters to attack us,” he said loudly. He turned around. “They’re two minutes away!”

“This is a trap!” yelled Red Henri. “I’ll kill you all before I kill them.”

He threw the microphone aside and underlined his thoughts by picking up his rifle and firing through the window.