Blood Covenant (24 page)

FORTY-SEVEN

FRIDAY, FEBRUARY 25, 8:12 A.M.
REBEL BASE CAMP

Paige folded her hands together to stop them from trembling. The combination of lack of sleep and food had dropped her blood pressure and left her feeling lightheaded. And the fact that in another ten hours one of them could be lying in a freshly dug plot beside Taz if something didn’t change hadn’t helped the rising panic pressing hard against her chest.

She drew in a labored breath. She’d been the one who’d frantically tried in vain to breathe life back into Taz’s limp body, and now all she could see was the vivid image of Jonas’ gun, Taz’s body slipping from the log onto the hard ground, and Ashley screaming …

Her fingers clamped onto the fabric of her shirt as another wave of dizziness hit. She reached for one of the small, red bananas the women had brought with breakfast. As much as she didn’t want to eat, not eating would only mess further with her blood sugar and make things worse. Not that the situation could get much worse. She hadn’t believed Jonas would follow through with his threat. Hadn’t truly believed he’d pulled the trigger. But he had. And now she couldn’t help but wonder how many more were going to die before this nightmare was over.

“Paige.”

She looked up at Nick, who sat beside her on the reed mat, and studied his day-old stubble and the creases along his forehead that seemed more pronounced today. They’d let him stay with her in the isolation hut, making him the one anchor in a world quickly drifting out of control, but even his presence couldn’t erase the horror of the situation.

“I’m sorry.” She shook her head. “I missed what you were saying.”

“Don’t be sorry. We’re all distracted.” Nick blew on the tin mug of coffee he held, then shot her a smile that managed to help calm the churning inside her. “How’s Ashley?”

“I had to give her a sedative so she would sleep.”

Nick scratched the back of his neck. “Unfortunately, things aren’t going to get better unless we can find a way out of here.”

Paige glanced at one of the rebels, who sat dozing under a shade tree. At the moment, no one seemed to notice their presence. Brandon and Samson had joined them a few moments ago without any comment from the guards, but she knew that the rules — whatever they were — could change in an instant and they could all be separated.

Brandon nodded at Nick’s observation. “Especially now that it’s clear the rebels have every intention of following through with their threats. We have to find a way to communicate with the outside world.”

Nick took another sip of his drink, then cleared his throat. “We can be fairly certain that the embassy knows we’re in the camp because of the photos they took, but as far as we know, no one knows the exact location of the camp.”

“That is the problem.” Samson spoke up for the first time. “We might have narrowed it down for them, but these forests are thick and dense and go on forever.”

Paige’s frown deepened. “It still could take days for them to locate where we are.”

Nick tossed the rest of his coffee onto the ground behind them, leaving a dark line across the red dirt. “And time is not something we have in abundance.”

“We could try to break into their supply hut.” Samson nodded toward the far edge of the compound. “I am certain they have communication equipment stored in there.”

Paige mulled over the idea. From what she’d gathered from talking with Nick, and from her own observations, this camp, while newly established, was the rebels’ main base. Communication with the other rebel fronts scattered throughout the country was done by both radios and cell and satellite phones, which allowed them tactical coordination and the element of surprise. The fact that the RD didn’t have the technology to trace those calls and locate their position gave them yet another advantage.

“All we need is access to a satellite phone.” Brandon shoved his breakfast aside, clearly intrigued with the idea. “Most have advanced GPS signals, and if we called the embassy, there’s a good chance the U.S. military could pick up our location.”

Paige shook her head. In her mind, the risk was still far too great. “There are at least twenty-five to thirty guards surrounding this compound at all times. I don’t see how breaking into their supply hut is even a possibility.”

Nick picked up a stick and began doodling in the dirt. “She’s right. They’re everywhere. We’d never get past them.”

Paige reached up and rubbed her temples, which wouldn’t stop pounding. The pain didn’t help when trying to come up with a foolproof escape plan. She looked toward the isolation hut where she’d spent the past few hours. She was only out here now because Ngozi had agreed she could take a short break to eat the breakfast the women had prepared for them. Her time could be up at any minute.

They needed that satellite equipment. And if they couldn’t break in …

Paige’s gaze snapped back to the hut. “What about Ngozi?”

“What about him?” Nick asked.

“I think I might be able to get him to help us.”

Brandon shook his head. “Why would he ever agree to do that?”

“Because his daughter’s situation is deteriorating.” She pressed her hands against her thighs. “Serious cases of encephalitis are difficult to treat because too often the disease doesn’t respond to medications. But there are some antiviral drugs that could help reduce the swelling and pressure in her skull. Without them, though, her chances to survive are slim.”

Nick’s eyes brightened. “Which might just give us the leverage we need.”

“Maybe.” Brandon scratched the back of his neck. His motivation to leave came from more than just Jonas’ threats. The fact that Jodi had been left at the camp with little if any medical help had them both worried. “But it still sounds like a pretty big risk to me. If he doesn’t want to help us, then he’ll tell Jonas, and we’ll end up paying with our lives. Or what if he knows the call could be traced?”

Nick snapped his stick in half. “These guys were trained to be soldiers, and while their leaders might take precautions by switching phones and limiting their airtime, I doubt that most of them know much about this kind of technology.”

“He’s right.” The guard stirred, so Paige lowered her voice as a precaution. “I’m not saying it’s not a risk, but I don’t think we have a choice. Ngozi is different from the others. He believes in the rebels’ cause, but he also cares deeply for his daughter, and I don’t think he’s willing to let her die.”

“You think you can convince him to let us use the phone?”

Paige nodded. “Just let me talk to him.”

Nick glanced at his watch. “I think it’s the best option we’ve got so far. Whatever we do, it’s going to take time to get someone here, and we’re going to have to move quickly. I don’t plan on burying another body tonight.”

Brandon nodded toward the gate. “I haven’t seen Jonas for the past couple hours, but Nzogi’s here.”

Nick grabbed Paige’s hand, lacing their fingers together as she stood. “Be careful. Promise me.”

Paige nodded at his tender expression, closed her eyes for a brief moment, then started across the dusty compound and started praying. She could do this.

“Ngozi.”

He leaned against the cinder-block wall near the front gate, smoking a cigarette. “What?”

“I need to talk to you about your daughter.” She studied his dark, leathery expression, praying for a way to invoke his help, not his anger. “She’s not doing well.”

“That is why I brought you here.”

“That might not be enough. Your daughter is very sick, and if I don’t get the proper medicines, she’s going to die.” Paige paused. “I need access to a satellite phone.”

Ngozi flicked his cigarette butt onto the dirt, then turned back to face her. “You cannot be serious?”

Paige caught the irritation in his voice, but knew she couldn’t back down now. “There are certain medicines that will lessen the swelling of the brain and stop the seizures.”

Ngozi shook his head. “Even if I had access to one, do you actually think I would allow you to use it?”

“Your daughter’s life is on the line.”

“You are bluffing.”

“No, I’m not. You’ve seen her. She’ll die without the necessary treatment.”

“Even if it is true, you know I cannot do what you are asking.”

“Why not? I know you love your daughter. I’ve seen the way you treat her, and the way you ask about her. I want to help. We aren’t near any hospitals, and even if we were, I would assume that as one of the rebel leaders your photo has been posted in every police station from here to the capital. This is the quickest way I know of to get her the help she needs.”

Ngozi pulled out a matchbox from his pocket and lit another cigarette. “What exactly are you proposing?”

“Nick has a friend who could fly in on a helicopter with the medicine I need. All he would need to do is drop off the supplies, then leave.”

“Jonas would kill me if he found out that I took a risk like this.”

“Then we make sure Jonas doesn’t find out.”

Ngozi took in another long drag. “I don’t know.”

“We need that medicine, Ngozi. You can save your daughter. It’s up to you.”

“Jonas is gone and won’t be back until late tonight.” Ngozi glanced at his watch for a moment as if still debating his answer. “I could organize the drop site away from the compound, but only if Nick goes with me. And the only person I want on that aircraft is the pilot. No one else. He makes the drop and leaves while I hold a gun to Nick’s head. If anything goes wrong, Nick dies.”

Paige weighed her options. If they wanted to get out alive, this might be their only chance. And she knew Nick would agree. She drew in a deep breath, then nodded her head. “It’s a deal. Now get me that phone.”

FORTY-EIGHT

FRIDAY, FEBRUARY 25, 4:04 P.M.
FIFTY KILOMETERS FROM THE REBEL BASE CAMP

The rugged 4x4 Land Cruiser rattled beneath Nick as Ngozi drove the vehicle down the narrow road edged by towering trees and thick, green undergrowth. Gripping the door handle to keep himself from whacking his head against the window, he glanced at the older man’s weathered profile. Determination and concern marked his expression, but time would tell as to whether or not his concern for his daughter had truly triumphed over his rebel loyalties. Nick just had to make sure he didn’t get caught in the middle of the man’s conflicting ideals.

Ngozi hit another pothole, confirming Nick’s belief that the truck’s shocks and suspension were gone and making him wonder how much more abuse the vehicle — and his own body—could take. No air conditioner meant a constant barrage of dust and thick, humid air that made breathing harder. A short stint on a paved road and through a decent-sized town had been sandwiched between long bouts of weaving through the bush, past smaller compounds with thatched huts and a mélange of animals, like chickens and goats, who ran loose in the dirt yards.

But after more than an hour of rough roads, he just wanted to put an end to this mess. Which meant he had to rely on Paul for more than just the medicine at the drop-off site. The lives of Paige and Brandon — all of them — hung in the balance.

Paige.

The thought of her sweet smile brought with it a tinge of anticipation. He hadn’t expected his attraction to deepen into something that made him long to be with her, but over the past few days she’d become the one light in the midst of a dark tunnel. With the refugee camp as a backdrop, he’d watched her skills as a doctor paired with her strong sense of justice and a streak of vulnerability.

Not that she’d ever admit she needed rescuing.

He gazed out the window at the forest with its layers of green bushes, ferns, plants, and trees. The sun had already reached its zenith, but his normal keen sense of direction had been thrown off by a road that had twisted and turned for the past fifty or sixty miles. Which meant all he could do now was trust Paul’s ability to track the satellite phone Nick had used, so he could throw a rescue party together before Jonas made good on his threat.

Nick looked across the worn leather seats at Ngozi. After an hour in the car with no conversation, maybe it was time to break the silence. “I’m amazed at how you can find your way on this … well, technically, I’m not sure I’d call it a road.”

Ngozi’s frown deepened. Apparently, he didn’t like Nick’s attempt at humor. “I grew up in this region.”

“And your family?”

“My parents and all my brothers and sisters are dead. All I have now is Jonas and the other men.”

“And Abah, her mother, and brother.”

Ngozi didn’t respond. He simply stared out the cracked window shield.

“Dr. Ryan is an incredible doctor, and she’ll do everything she can to save your daughter. You’ve got to trust her.”

“Why?” Ngozi’s fingers gripped the steering wheel. “I don’t trust you any more than you trust me.”

“Maybe not, but Dr. Ryan has a strong sense of duty, and she won’t let any … any personal feelings get in the way of trying to save your daughter’s life.”

Thick brush opened into a small clearing, large enough for a helicopter to land, enclosed enough to provide covering. Ngozi brought the vehicle to a stop along the edge of a long patch of tall grasses blowing in the midday wind.

Ngozi turned to him and nodded. “This is the drop-off point. I hope for your sake your friend comes alone.”

Fifteen minutes later, the helo touched down, bringing with it a swirling cloud of dirt and countless memories of landings in Tallil, where the surrounding terrain had been scarred by years of war. At the moment, things were no different here.

A twenty-something-year-old man stepped down from the chopper, shouting above the whirl of the blades. “It’s good to see you, Nick. I’ve got the supplies you asked for.”

Nick looked to Ngozi before sliding out of the vehicle. “All I’m going to do is pick up the medicine, and he can leave.”

“Not without me.”

Ngozi slid from the vehicle behind Nick, looking nervous. Fear from the possibility of Jonas finding out what he’d done? Or worse perhaps, that this was a setup. Nick sent up a short prayer, like he’d done a hundred times over the past week, because even he didn’t know what the entire plan was. His conversation with Paul had been brief and to the point. All he could do right now was go with his gut and play this out.

Movement behind him shifted Nick’s attention. Ngozi had drawn his pistol and was pointing it at the pilot.

“Ngozi! What are you — ”

A shot rang out. The pilot slumped to the ground, landing face down.

Nick started for the man, then stopped at Ngozi’s barking order and the telltale cock of the hammer.

“Do not move.” Ngozi turned his weapon on Nick. “There has been a change of plans.”

“He needs help.”

“It is already too late for your friend.”

Nick turned away. This wasn’t supposed to have happened. The drop had been a way to get Paul the GPS coordinates and them the medicine they needed. Nothing else. And no one was supposed to die.

Just like in Iraq.

Nick turned back to Ngozi, the anger in his voice raw. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“You really think I am stupid enough to trust you?” Ngozi aimed the weapon at Nick. “This was always about more than just picking up medicines, though I am grateful for your concern for my daughter.”

Nick shook his head. “I still don’t understand.”

“I guess you wouldn’t have heard about the state of emergency declared by our government, or the curfew they set in the capital in an attempt to squelch our movement. And apparently, with the recent attacks by some of our men in the capital, the government feared we might try and liberate our leaders ourselves and decided to move them to an
undisclosed
location. Fortunately for us, we know they are being transported today from the capital to a prison outside Kasili, making a rescue much easier than from a state prison cell.”

“So that’s where Jonas went this morning? To hijack a prison convoy?”

“It’s a long drive across the north of the country, but he should have enough time to locate the transport vehicle before they reach the prison.”

“How did he find out?”

“We have our own sources of intel inside your own embassy.”

“And the plan now?”

“To kill you like your friend, of course.”

“Except that would leave you with a problem, because you’ve just killed the pilot.” Nick dug up his only trump card. “Fortunately for you, I can help. I flew Black Hawks in the Middle East for two years.”

“Impressive, but your government isn’t the only one capable of training their soldiers. I too am a pilot and perfectly capable of flying this helo without your help.”

Any idea of escaping vanished into the humid, late-afternoon air.

“And since we promised to deliver another dead body—”

“It’s not been twelve hours yet.”

Ngozi glanced at his watch. “Close enough.”