Whiplash

31

The voice told Danny there was a road to the north about a half mile away. If they took it, they could follow a series of trails north and then back east to their camp. The detour would require that they drive through two leveled fields, but seemed considerably safer than running past the approaching government forces.

Boston had trouble finding the turnoff. Then the road petered out after barely half a mile. Even with the night glasses and the GPS, it was slow going.

“Danny, you on?” said Nuri, coming over the line.

“Yeah, I’m here.”

“What’s your situation?”

“We’re heading back to camp. Red Henri and then the Sudanese army ambushed us.”

“The Sudanese ambushed you?”

“Right.”

“Are they working with Red Henri?”

“No. He ended up in the cross fire. Red Henri got wind of the meeting somehow and showed up. The Sudanese army came a little while after that. With helicopters.”

“There are plenty of informers in both rebel groups,” said Nuri. “Colonel Zsar’s especially. They may have tipped the government off.”

“I guess.”

“Did you tag the Iranian?”

“Yeah.”

“Looks like you got someone else, too,” said Nuri.

“Tilia, Uncle Dpap’s aide,” said Danny. “It was an accident.”

“It’s not important. Don’t worry. Damn. The Sudanese are throwing all sorts of troops at these guys. This must be Egypt’s doing, helping them. Damn.”

“I don’t know if our guy is going to get out,” said Danny. “They have a lot of troops coming.”

“That may not be critical right now,” said Nuri.

“Turn into field, point-one miles,” said the Voice.

Danny told Nuri to hold while he helped Boston navigate. The rutted field was filled with large rocks, but the ground was firm. They slowed to about five miles an hour, then followed a serpentine section of wall to a shallow streambed. Nearly a mile later they came to the road.

“All right,” said Danny.

“I was beginning to wonder if you’d decided to drive back to the States,” said Nuri when he got back to him.

“Just having trouble with the terrain. How did you do?”

“Better than expected. And worse. I think the Iranians are building a bomb.”

“Here?”

“No, I don’t know. We got some hits on uranium, but not weapons grade.”

Actually, the detectors had found traces of material that typically accompanied uranium, signaling that some sort of storage or processing was carried out there. Finding actual weapons grade uranium required very sensitive gear placed very close to the material, and even then would have taken quite a bit of luck. Still, the finding was critical.

“I don’t have it all figured out,” added Nuri, “but I think they’re doing this in stages. This would be an early stage. I have to talk to Reid and Stockard.”

“Right.”

“I’ll let them know we’ve tagged the Iranian and we’re going to follow him. If they have other plants, he’ll take us to them.”

“If he makes it out of the ambush,” said Danny.

“I’ll be at the base in another twenty minutes,” said Nuri, ignoring Danny’s pessimism. “Let me know if anything comes up.”

Two minutes later the Voice warned Danny that four Sudanese army trucks were traveling on the road they were headed for. Rather than engage in a firefight, Danny decided their best option would be to simply go far enough off the road so they couldn’t be seen and wait for them to pass. They crossed the field until they found a cluster of low trees and waited.

Meanwhile, the remains of colonel Zsar’s forces had regrouped south of the road and were sweeping east to escape the army troops. Four of Zsar’s men had been killed; nearly all the rest, including himself, had suffered at least minor injuries.

Tarid was among the few who hadn’t been hit. He found the colonel as he retreated, and joined him in a pickup truck. They rode together in the front of the pickup, jostling against each other and the colonel’s driver as they streaked across the rutted road.

“Red Henri must have betrayed us,” said Zsar. “He must have planned the entire venture.”

“More likely it was one of Dpap’s men,” said Tarid. “Or one of yours.”

Colonel Zsar bristled. “Maybe the arms dealer was the culprit.”

“No.”

“No rebel would do this.”

“His men shot down two of the helicopters,” said Tarid. “He warned us. He has very good intelligence. He’s smarter than you think. Greedy, but smart.”

“The helicopters may have been a show,” said Colonel Zsar. He prided himself on never having retreated in the face of the Sudanese army. His ego had been stung by the reversal. “We could have taken them, all of them,” he added. “If I’d brought more men.”

“You can take them another time.”

The more Colonel Zsar brooded about his reputation, the more he realized that he couldn’t simply run. He had to do something — he had to defeat the army.

“Turn the truck around,” he told the driver. He took out his satellite phone.

“What are you doing?” asked Tarid.

“We’re going back.”

“You can’t go back — they’ve got you outgunned. They’re bringing more reinforcements.”

“So will I.”

Tarid argued, but it was a waste of breath. Colonel Zsar had decided his reputation demanded that he defeat the army soldiers who had attacked. Even if the victory was symbolic — a simple return to the battlefield would do — he would be able to restore his reputation.

“You’re letting your ego guide you,” said Tarid. “A dangerous thing.”

Zsar frowned.

“Then let me out,” said Tarid.

The door was locked. As he reached to pull up the lock, Colonel Zsar pointed his pistol at him. If he let Tarid go, the others might follow.

“No cowards,” he hissed.

Tarid let go of the door.

As they waited for the Sudanese troop trucks to pass, Danny had the Voice give him periodic updates on the Iranian’s position.

He’d clearly escaped, cutting south.

Good, thought Danny.

He was stopping.

Why?

He was returning to the battlefield.

What?

“Are you sure?” Danny asked.

“Affirmative.”

“What’s the situation there?”

“Positioning Owl UAV,” reported the Voice. A few minutes later MY-PID delivered a sitrep; situation report. “Reinforcements still en route. Sudanese army capturing wounded rebels. Helicopters approaching from the west.”

Tarid was driving back into a trap. And Danny knew there was nothing he could do about it.

When he saw the fires in the distance, colonel Zsar decided to wait on the road for his reinforcements to arrive. There was little harm in waiting, he realized; the longer he took to strike back, the more relaxed the regular soldiers would become, and the easier his victory.

He figured that it would take a little over thirty minutes for the rest of his army to arrive. Once they were there, he would sweep onto the battlefield, routing the regulars the way they had routed him.

He would pick only a small group, attack and flee. That would be enough for the symbolic victory he wanted.

The colonel was sketching his plan out in his head when he heard the helicopters approaching. He got out of the truck to look for them; when he did, he saw the dark shadows well over the horizon, heading in their direction.

“Out of the trucks!” he ordered. “Prepare for an attack.”

Tarid was livid. “You idiot!” he yelled at Zsar. “We have to get out of here!”

“Shut up and prepare to fight,” said Zsar, starting to turn away.

“You idiot! Where are your troops?”

The colonel stopped. “What did you call me?”

“An idiot!” said Tarid, taking two steps and screaming in Zsar’s face. “You were safe. You—”

Colonel Zsar delivered a roundhouse to Tarid’s head. The Iranian staggered back, then coiled his legs and arms to strike back. Before he could, Zsar’s driver smashed him across the back of the head with his AK-47. Tarid fell to the ground, unconscious and oblivious to the firefight starting around him.