The Chimera Sequence (20 page)

There was a series of clicks, then Ed’s voice again. “Okay, we should all be on the line now. Could the NSA go ahead and repeat your summary for our team leader? Captain Jake Russell is currently on the ground in the DRC, just west of Virunga National Park.”

A confident and alluring female voice started right in. “Thank you, sir, and hello. This is Morgan Andrews with the Central Africa desk.”

If this were the NSA, he wouldn’t mind if they wanted to get in touch on a more regular basis. His team’s four-month deployment was now nine-going-on-ten, and Jake was starved for female attention.

“As discussed earlier, our systems have picked up an increased frequency of outgoing calls to Iran made from an area along the eastern border of the Congo.”

“Ma’am,” Jake interrupted. “I’m going to have to ask you to repeat that for me. I thought you just said Iran, but that couldn’t be right.”

“Yes, the Islamic Republic of Iran. I was surprised too when I first received the automatically flagged report, so I followed up and did a little more digging into the data. Turns out none of these calls have been answered, ten to fifteen of them every day for the last week, and they’re all going to one number on the Iranian government’s secure network.”

Jake let out a low whistle.

“Exactly.” He thought he heard a smile in her voice. “Fortunately for us, the mobile networks that are carrying these outgoing calls are anything but secure. We believe it’s most likely there is only one target behind these calls, and that this person is rotating SIMs.”

“Wow.” Jake was stunned. “I’ve gotta be honest, that’s not the type of intelligence I was expecting tonight. I assume you know why me and my guys are out here, trying to track down old Mr. Kony and his army?”

“Yes, we’re quite aware of your mission.”

“So am I supposed to conclude that you think these calls may have something to do with all that?”

“That’s a question mark, Jake.” It was the colonel now. “But this intel has gone up the chain, and we’re being directed to devote some resources here, dig around a little bit. Even if it doesn’t end up having anything to do with our main man Kony, there’s really no good reason anyone in the Congo needs to be trying so hard to get in touch with Iran. Weapons, minerals, ivory—there are no good options here.”

“Well alrighty then,” Jake said. He was pacing back and forth in the tiny open area inside the tent that served as his operations center. “Ma’am, can you tell me where those two mobile towers are located? Might help us to know where to begin looking.”

“They’re the only ones in the area. One in the little town of Rumangabo, and the other on the northwestern outskirts of Goma. We’ll send those coordinates to you now. The Virunga mountains along the border with Rwanda and Uganda make a hard stop to any mobile communications.”

“So basically anywhere between those two towers and the snow-covered peaks of a bunch of active volcanoes?” He exhaled sharply through his nose. “Sounds like a piece of cake.”

“It’s a large area to cover, yes.” She was all business. “We’re going to work on getting a better pinpoint location for you, but this is all we have right now. Good luck.”

A click, and then his commander’s voice again. “I know this sounds like needles in a haystack, Jake, but sometimes that needle is so important it’s worth the effort. Shouldn’t have to argue that point with you, I don’t think.”

“No sir.”

“I want you to send up a Puma for a few hours tonight. Make yourself a nice little grid pattern to start sweeping this area. Looks like most of it falls within the national park, right?”

“Yep, that’s what I’m seeing too.”

Jake held the phone’s receiver against his shoulder as he typed in the grid coordinates for the two mobile phone towers.

“Focus on the thermal imaging, and don’t spend too long looking at any one thing this first time around. Remember, you’ve got elephants, gorillas, probably some illegal charcoal operations in there. That stuff’s going to throw you off if you’re not careful.”

“Watch out for the elephants and gorillas, check.” He hoped his sarcasm was transmitting loud and clear over the satellite phone.

“Whoever’s trying to get in touch with our friend the Grand Ayatollah is almost definitely not working alone. We’re looking for large groups of people, evidence of electricity, illegal mining, stuff that’ll pop so hot on your screen you won’t have any doubt.”

“We’re on it.”

He was ready to go make this happen.

“Out for now. Stay in touch.”

”Will do, sir.”

It was going to be a long night.

“You think this’ll work?”

Jake peered through the darkness ahead of him. The sounds of the rest of the men around the fire had faded to an indistinct murmur. They were somewhat exposed out here on their own, but Rico’s invisible presence made Jake a whole lot more comfortable than he would have been otherwise. He could barely make out Mikey’s silhouette, already on the ground unpacking the Puma UAV from its long backpack. The Puma was a mini-drone, a next-generation unmanned aerial vehicle that took both color and infrared video and weighed in at only thirteen pounds.

“Yeah,” Mikey said. “She doesn’t need much.”

He snapped the six-foot wings onto the drone’s tiny body and lifted it high into the air over his head.

“Okay, ready when you are.”

Jake held the tablet-sized ground control station in both hands, ready to guide the Puma into action. He watched Mikey cock his arm and take a step back, looking for all the world like he was getting ready to launch a giant paper airplane.

And then she was free, sailing across the open field of cassava and above the tree tops before disappearing into the inky blackness.

“Let’s go hunt us some bad guys, right?”

“Hooah, sir. Hooah.”

The pulse oximeter’s high-pitched beeping stopped for a second, hiccuped, and then continued on at a rapidly increasing rate.

“Come on, Marna,” Cole muttered. “You can’t give up on us now.”

He looked up at Leila across the stretcher. She was rhythmically squeezing a large rubber Ambu bag, eyes on her patient’s chest, watching for even the slightest rise and fall that should have come with each mechanical breath. Of course there was no ventilator on this emergency vehicle. Not even an EKG.

“You really think we can’t risk pushing any more fluids?”

She shook her head. “Not until these diuretics kick in and start pulling some of the fluid from her lungs.”

What should have been an uneventful hour’s ride down to the international airport had turned into a two-hour nightmare with a crashing patient in stop-and-go traffic. But Leila’s instincts were proving to be right on the money every time. And they were so close, with an airplane and experienced medical crew on the ground waiting for their arrival.

Cole turned to the two Rwandan paramedics squeezed onto a narrow folding bench along one side of the ambulance, silent for the last half-hour. “How far out are we?”

One of them stood and peered through a small window in the back door. “Very close now, doctor. Ten minutes, no more.”

Exactly what he said ten minutes ago. But it wasn’t worth fighting over.

The back of the ambulance was a mess. Equipment in disarray, empty drawers hanging open, and discarded supplies sliding across the floor every time the driver stepped on the brakes.

“Heart rate’s still increasing,” Leila said. “Not what we need right now.”

A wet crackling sound came from the tube in Marna’s mouth. Cole looked across her body to Leila, who shook her head slowly, lips pressed tightly together. The cautious optimism that had characterized the doctor’s expression was fading, replaced by a distant look in her unfocused eyes.

“We’re too late—her lungs are totally flooded.” A pause. “This might be it.”

“Don’t say that!” Cole’s knuckles were white as he gripped the edge of the stretcher.

“Oxygen saturation’s dropping fast.” Leila spoke softly now.

Cole picked up the handheld pulse oximeter, the same one they used to monitor vitals on anesthetized gorillas up in the mountains. Eighty-nine percent. Marna’s lungs were not doing their job, not getting that life-giving oxygen from the air into the blood. Any lower and her systems would start shutting down. He pounded hard on the partition separating the patient area from the driver’s cab.

“
Dépêchez-vous! Plus vite
!” Hurry up! Faster!

And then it happened. The heart monitor stopped beeping.

One, one-thousand, two, one-thousand, three, one-thousand
. Cole grabbed for the syringe of epinephrine and pushed it through the open port on the intravenous catheter in Marna’s wrist.

Five seconds passed, then three more staggered beeps, and silence.

Another syringe. It was all they had.

No response this time.

Cole threw both hands on Marna’s sternum. Up and down and up and down. Ribs creaked, then snapped, under the force of his weight on her chest. Leila stood stoic, silent, still squeezing the bag, ignoring the sickening mix of blood and mucus bubbling up through the endotracheal tube.

CPR was never quite as pretty as it looked on TV.

And rarely successful in real life.

Minutes passed, sweat pouring from his face, soaking his clothes underneath the Tyvek. But the monitor stayed silent, and Cole fought off the growing consciousness of a dreaded conclusion. Their life-saving quest transformed into a morbid vigil. And yet he continued to fight, putting every ounce of anger and frustration and grief into these futile efforts to bring a silenced heart back to life.

He barely noticed when the ambulance screeched to a halt behind the terminal, the doors flying open, red lights flashing over his hunched shoulders and pumping arms.

And then gloved hands, pulling him away, unloading Marna’s limp body. Ghostly figures in white positive pressure suits, huddled in a group around the stretcher, shaking their heads. Snippets of conversation drifting across the tarmac, the South African voices distorted and muffled by each suit’s hissing self-contained air supply.

“—has died.”

“Too late for—”

“—instructed to take the body.”

He sat down on the asphalt, head in his hands, and cried.

“It’s just not safe, Cole.” A light turned on at the top of the stairs. “Even if I thought it was a good idea, you know I can’t authorize something like that at my level.”

“Dave, are you talking to someone down there?” A woman’s voice called down to them.

"Yeah, honey." Lieutenant colonel Dave Wong, defense attaché at the embassy, turned away from Cole and put one foot on the bottom step. “It’s Cole McBride, down from Musanze, along with a doctor from the CDC. You’ll want to hear this.”

“She doesn’t need to come down for us,” Cole whispered.

“But she will. She likes you, Cole. Always talking about taking the kids up to see those orphaned gorillas of yours one of these days.” He brought a hand to his forehead and pushed the fingers through thinning black hair, longer than any Marine Corps officer would dare to grow back in the States. “Liked Marna, too. Been rooting for you two to get together ever since you brought her to the Memorial Day party last month.”

Cole could read the unspoken question in the man’s concerned eyes.

“No, we weren’t dating. But it was close, and I really cared about her.” He bit the inside of his cheek. “Shit. It happened so fast.”

The older man reached out and touched his arm.

A door opened, and Leila stepped out of the bathroom. The fresh coat of makeup didn’t hide that she was still a complete wreck.

“Refreshed?” Dave smiled at her kindly. “Let’s go sit down.”

Cole followed him down the hall into an enormous living room, its floor covered with toys and books. “Way more house than we need, of course,” the attaché had said, giving him a full tour six months earlier. “But it was the only place that met DoD’s security requirements, so we weren’t going to complain.” Cole had shown up at the embassy for what he thought was an unnecessary introduction, letting Big Brother officially know that there was one more rogue military officer wandering around the country. But he and the attaché ended up hitting it off, and the Wong’s house quickly became Cole’s default whenever he needed a place to stay in Kigali. It was one of hundreds of palatial villas that made up the wealthy Nyarutarama neighborhood, and it felt as close to the States as he could get anywhere in Rwanda.

Dave motioned to a couple of recliners.

“You two make yourselves at home—I’ll be right back.”

Cole didn’t need to be told twice. He collapsed into the welcome comfort and closed his eyes.

A moment later, a hand touched his shoulder, jolting him out of a light sleep.

“I’m so sorry, Cole.”

He opened his eyes and jumped to his feet. Katie was there now, making no attempt to hide her recent tears. She reached up and kissed his cheek, then turned to Leila and squeezed her hand.

“Welcome to our little castle. I’m Katie.”

“Thanks for giving us a place to stay tonight,” Leila said. “If it’s too much trouble—”

“It’s not, and I always keep a bed made up just in case.” Katie walked into the open kitchen. “You two want a drink? Coffee, beer, something stronger?”

She was a petite brunette, pretty and perpetually put together. A good match for Dave, an Academy grad who had taken the fast track into the world of diplomacy and was already on his third posting as an embassy attaché.

“Water’s fine, thank you, ma’am,” Cole said. He wasn’t planning on sticking around long.

“I would love a shot of something—take the edge off—if that’s alright.” Leila looked questioningly across the large kitchen island.

“I’ve got just the thing.” Katie reached high into a butler’s pantry and pulled down a tall pale green bottle. “Have you tried this stuff? Think I’ll join you.”

Cole saw the curly cursive logo identifying it as Double Chocolate Vodka and felt his stomach churn. Those liquor companies were getting too creative for their own good.

“Sure you don’t want something, Cole?” The senior officer was moving bottles around on the same shelf. “I’ve been looking for an excuse to open up this Johnnie Walker Blue. Ambassador back in Prague gave it to me at the going-away party.”