Whiplash

29

Boston threw the Land Cruiser into reverse even as Danny pulled himself inside. Dirt and gravel spat in every direction. Mortar shells exploded forty or fifty yards away. There were more helicopters nearby, their rotors pounding the air like the excited heartbeat of an oversized dinosaur.

They made it to the highway.

“Wait up,” said Danny, struggling to get his bearings in the passenger seat. “I want to make sure they get out of here in one piece.”

“We got to get the hell out, Colonel,” snapped Boston. “All hell is breaking loose.”

As if to underline his statement, a fresh volley of mortar shells landed nearby.

“You’re going west,” said Danny.

“We can’t go back the way we came. We’d be running right by the Sudan troops.”

“I have to make sure Tarid gets away,” said Danny, still having trouble getting his bearings. “Pull off the road.”

“We’re sitting ducks here.”

“Just pull off the goddamn road.”

Boston veered off the asphalt. The other Land Cruiser stopped behind them.

Danny pulled out the control unit of the Voice. “I need the overhead images of the contact point,” he told the computer.

The video from the UAV came onto the screen, streaks and flashes of gunfire, flares and explosions.

“Locate marked subject.”

“Located.”

Two stars appeared on the screen. The Owl was supplying the image.

“One of those is Tarid,” said Danny. “Who’s the other?”

“Rebel identified as Tilia.”

“Highlight Tarid and zoom.”

The image zoomed on Tarid, but the screen was so small that Danny couldn’t get a good feel for his situation. Was he trapped? He seemed to be moving, but even that wasn’t clear on the small screen, which was intended primarily as a control display.

“What’s Tarid doing?” Danny asked the Voice.

“Subject is moving south of the road, accompanied by seven other soldiers.”

“Boss, we staying here forever?” asked Boston.

“Relax,” Danny told him.

“Not understood,” said the Voice.

“What is the disposition of the Sudanese army troops?” Danny asked MY-PID. “Mark the main groups on the screen.”

The computer did so. All of the troops were north of the road.

“All right,” Danny told Boston. “Let’s get the hell out of here.”

Boston got back on the road. Danny leaned his head back and closed his eyes, reliving not the firefight, but his emotions, his hesitation and the butterflies. He’d accomplished his mission, and yet he felt like a failure — a coward.

Any objective observer would have scoffed. Yet it was the fear that Danny remembered.

“Army troops approaching,” warned the Voice.

“What?” said Danny, sitting up.

“Four armored personnel carriers on road ahead, traveling east at a high rate of speed.”

“Will they reach the intersection before us?”

“Affirmative.”

“Boss?” asked Boston.

“Keep going,” Danny told him. “MY-PID, I need an alternate route back to Base Camp Alpha. Pronto.”

“Working.”