Blood Covenant (13 page)

TWENTY-FIVE

TUESDAY, FEBRUARY 22, 11:24 A.M.
KINGANI REFUGEE CAMP

Paige stood at the far edge of the camp as men lowered Robert and the victims from last night’s raid into the freshly dug graves. With no refrigeration, they’d had no choice but to bury the bodies as soon as possible. The wind blew across her face, hot and dry, making her long for the cooler temperatures of Tennessee. And a place where the worst stress, outside her job, was getting stuck in afternoon traffic. Now she was looking at the very real possibility of not even being able to make her flight on Friday.

She pushed away the thought. In the distance, the shadowy figures of the rebels lined the slight rise where they’d taken up position for the past few hours. She turned back to the small crowd of people standing beyond the loose piles of red earth. The rebels’ presence was a reminder of the control they’d lost.

Already, those living in the camp were becoming restless. Reassurances that the army would come and take care of the rebels had done little to ease the marked fear on their faces. And now, instead of spending time in the surrounding forest searching for firewood or walking to one of the surrounding villages in search of work or a place to sell their remaining possessions, they stood in front of the registration tent with fear in their eyes, demanding answers to the appearance of the rebels.

Paige watched the wind blow the dirt as it dropped from the shovels. They were right. With little food, an inadequate water supply, and few, if any, weapons, the situation was spiraling out of control. In the end, all their promises would do little to stop the slow panic already snaking its way through the camp. And with the rebels surrounding the camp, there was nowhere for any of them to run.

The men continued shoveling dirt over the bodies as the onlookers slowly started walking back to their tents. Ashley remained beside her father’s grave, her expression void as she watched the men drop the final shovels of dirt.

Paige looked away, unwilling to intrude upon this painful, private moment.

Nick brushed up beside her, his hands jammed into his front pockets as he stared at the freshly dug graves. “How are you doing?”

Her eyes filled with tears, and she shrugged, wondering how to answer. “I don’t know. The last twenty-four hours have seemed so surreal.”

“It’s okay.”

“To cry?” She wrapped her arms around her waist, wishing she could just let the dam of emotion that had built up break, but there was too much at stake for her to fall apart. Too many people depending on her for strength. “I’m scared, Nick. If those supplies don’t get here soon, we’re going to have to keep digging more graves. We have more cholera patients than we have beds, I’m worried about one of the burn victims, and I can’t get Jodi’s fever under control.”

“Complications from the gunshot?”

“I don’t think so, but I’m not sure, and I don’t have the equipment I need to test for the source of the infection. I don’t have half of what I need.” She rolled the hem of her shirt between her fingers while her mind searched for a solution. “The bottom line is that before long I’m going to have to start making judgments and choosing who is treated because there is simply not enough medicine to go around.”

“Don’t go there yet. All you can do is treat one person at a time and pray that God will stop what these men are doing before we get to the crisis point.”

“And if we do get to that point?”

“How much time do we have?”

“Everyone who’s registered received a food packet. Technically, it’s supposed to last fifteen days, but I’ve been told that by day ten they are running low and often go hungry until the next ration is given out.” The math — and the consequences — were easy to calculate. “For those who have already been here a week or more, they’re going to need more of the rations soon. Taz said we might have enough food for half of them. We need those supply trucks.”

Paige studied the endless rows of tents, their flaps blowing in the morning wind, where children and mothers fought to survive on a meager existence. Desperation had already caused dozens of fights throughout the camp in the past few hours, which, if allowed to continue, would in turn put them all in danger.

She looked up at Nick. “I’m not going home, am I?”

“Not without a miracle.”

Desperation to leave vied with her compassion for these people. “How do we stop the rebels?”

The small crowd that had gathered to watch the burial had now left, leaving in their place an eerie silence. “I’ve been talking some more with Taz and several of the other men. As soon as we’re done here, we’re going to send four or five men to the nearest town, which is about five kilometers down the main road. There we should be able to get a call through and get some help.”

Paige felt the haunting stare of the rebels behind them and tried to shake it off. “How are you going to get past them?”

“We don’t think they have more than a couple dozen men guarding the camp, so getting past them shouldn’t be too difficult. The problem is that could change quickly if reinforcements arrive.”

Which meant any move they made would have to be now. The border lay to the north, and so far the neighboring government was refusing to allow anyone to enter the country. Dozens had attempted to cross, but most had been forced back to the camp. With the base of Mt. Maja to the east and heavy forests to the west, the rebels had essentially cut them off, giving the armed men the leverage they’d wanted.

“And if your plan doesn’t work?”

“If we don’t check in, somebody will eventually assume something’s wrong.”

“But even if the men get through and the government agrees to bring in the army, that will take time.” Something they didn’t have.

After little sleep the night before, exhaustion had settled over her body. Gathering any remaining threads of mental strength, she folded her arms tightly across her chest and stared at the row of fresh graves, serving as a poignant reminder of the severity of the situation.

Ashley walked past them toward the clinic, catching Paige’s attention. The young woman’s fancy designer boots left footprints in the soft soil and stood out in this place of poverty. And yet despite the outward differences, she, like many in this camp, had lost what she considered most important.

“Ashley?”

The young woman turned and stared at her.

Paige struggled to find the right words. “I’m so sorry about your father. If there’s anything I can do for you …”

“Like what?” Ashley’s features hardened. “Look at this place. If I stay here, I’ll end up catching some horrid disease like leprosy or AIDS or … Ebola.”

Paige’s eyes widened. “Speaking as a doctor, the odds of you coming down with any of those diseases are pretty slim. Follow basic hygiene principles, and I’m sure you’ll be okay.”

“'Okay'? You’re kidding, right?” Ashley’s voice cracked. “If the rebels don’t massacre us all, we’ll all be wiped out by some epidemic before help gets here.”

Paige looked to Nick for help. Instead, he stood silent beside her, looking even more uncomfortable than she did. Apparently she wasn’t the only one who found the girl disconcerting. She’d only been around her a few short hours, but already wondered why someone like her had ever decided to rough it and come to the middle of nowhere to climb a mountain.

Paige shook her head and tried to swallow her judgment. “The army will be here before long to neutralize the situation. They’ll escort the supply trucks here for the people and take you back to the capital, where you can fly home.”

“She’s right.” Nick nodded. “It might take a day or two, but even the rebels won’t be able to stand up against an armed convoy.”

“A day or two?” Ashley pulled her dark glasses from her posh backpack and slid them on, covering up her red eyes. “You don’t understand. This … this place. I have no intention of staying another twenty-four hours. My family has money. I’ll find a way out.”

Paige watched Ashley start back toward the medical clinic. Beyond her, boys played soccer with a homemade ball, while some older kids lounged outside one of the tents, listening to a battery-operated radio. These kids deserved to be in school. Paige turned back toward the row of men lining the hills to the west and reminding her that all the rules had changed.

“She’s kidding, right?”

“I wouldn’t put it past her.”

Paige turned and caught Nick’s gaze. “But you don’t think she’ll really do something stupid, do you?”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know. Try and pay off the rebels — ”

The sound of a motor interrupted Paige midsentence. She turned around to see a jeep squeal to a stop twenty feet away. One of the men in it stood and dumped a body over the edge of the vehicle. Paige felt her legs give out beneath her. Two more bodies were thrown onto the dusty ground, then the jeep accelerated back toward the guarded ridge.

“Nick …”

“I saw two of them this morning.” Taz stepped up beside them, the horror of what Paige felt mirrored on his face. “They said they were getting out of here.”

Paige grabbed Nick’s arm. It was a message. And if something didn’t change, this place was going to turn into a death camp.

TWENTY-SIX

TUESDAY, FEBRUARY 22, 11:52 A.M.
DOWNTOWN BOGAMA

Paul signaled for his driver to turn up the radio as they weaved in and out of traffic on their way to the deputy of foreign affairs’ office.

…
A tour group, including four Americans due to climb Mt. Maja in the Republic of Dhambizao, has not been heard from since February 21 and are feared by friends and family to be missing. Conflict in the north of the country has escalated in the past few days, leading to what many believe to be the start of a civil war. The U.S. Embassy reported that the four American and four Canadian tourists arrived in the country Friday night only hours before the embassy, along with diplomats from Canada, England, and Germany, issued warnings to its citizens to evacuate the northern region of the area. But with growing conflict and rumors of rebel raids at the base camp, it appears that the warning may have come too late …

Paul’s cell phone rang as his driver pulled up in front of the four-story government building, drowning out the rest of the BBC’s latest report on the country’s situation. For a region that was already supposed to be evacuated, the count was now up to eight missing tourists, along with a handful of aid workers he hadn’t been able to contact, making him wish he believed in miracles. Finding them all alive would be that miracle. Unfortunately, after twenty years in this business, he’d given up believing in those a long time ago.

“Wait for me here,” he hollered to his driver, then flipped open his cell to answer the call. “Paul Hayes here.”

“Mr. Hayes, finally. I’ve been trying to track you down for the past six hours.”

The accent pegged the caller as an American, but whoever it was, he wasn’t in the mood for another crisis. “I’m sorry, who are you?”

“This is Mitch Peterson. My fiancée, Ashley James, who has now been declared missing, was a part of the tour trekking Mt. Maja.”

Mitch Peterson wasn’t the first phone call he’d received this morning from worried family members. Paul mentally ran through the list of names he’d received an hour ago. Brandon and Jodi Collins from a small suburb outside St. Louis. Robert James, a Houston oil tycoon and his daughter, Ashley, who was a Hollywood actress … “Yes, her name was on the dossier I was given this morning, but we’re still trying to verify both the original source and the fact that the group actually is missing, as we’ve yet to receive an official report of any problems from the base camp.”

Or any report for that matter, which made him question the source of the rumors spreading through the news waves.

“I’m the source.”

“You reported them missing? Where are you?”

“LA.”

“LA?” Paul stopped in front of the government building, with its yellow lawns and over-grown bushes. “You’re thousands of miles away, and yet you’re somehow more aware of the situation than we are?”

“You don’t understand. Ashley wasn’t exactly keen on this trip. She had a satellite phone and when she wasn’t calling me, she was sending text messages.”

“There could be a dozen reasons why you haven’t heard from her, but none of them are reasons to panic. Bad satellite reception, a dead battery—”

“The news is reporting intense fighting around the base of the mountain. I don’t think all of this is a coincidence.”

“I’m fully aware of what the news is reporting, but I’d prefer to verify the situation before spreading rumors.”

“And how do you plan to do that?”

Paul didn’t like the insinuations in the man’s voice. “I’m on my way to a meeting with the deputy of foreign affairs right now to coordinate efforts to deal with the situation.”

“And then?”

“I’ve got your number. I’ll call you.”

Paul shoved the phone into his back pocket, then took the front stairs of the government office two at a time, frustration burning a hole in his gut. Instead of chasing down information that should have automatically been handed to him, or dealing with rumors from unqualified sources, he should be sitting in front of the fire in Colorado on an extended leave with his family. Which was what he was going to demand once this was over. If Maggie would let him.

Twenty years ago, he’d joined the marines, intent on saving the world. Grabbing a diplomatic position with the State Department after leaving the service seemed like the perfect decision at the time. He could raise a family, see the world, and serve his country all at the same time. And now it had come to this.

He pushed aside his rambling thoughts of the twins and Maggie. He’d made his choice, which meant he was going to have to play this one out. Though, if he had his way, this would be the last time he put his family on the line for another country that refused to play ball with him. He was tired of the pointless games and receiving nothing more than unsubstantiated reports that left him with little, if any, information he could work with.

He popped a couple of Tums into his mouth and hurried down the long corridor. People were lined up along the chipped walls that hadn’t been repainted for years. Why paint when there wasn’t enough money to insure your people had proper medical care or clean water or even adequate food? The mountains in the north might hold countless resources, from coltan used in cell phones to diamonds, but despite promises by the government that the wealth would reach the people, he’d yet to see a single attempt to use the resources for the benefit of the people.

Paul turned a corner and entered the reception area that held the deputy’s office. An air conditioner hummed quietly behind the secretary. A gold nameplate for James Ngani, deputy of foreign affairs, hung on his door. Paul didn’t even stop at the secretary’s desk to find out if the man was available. There wasn’t time for formalities.

“You can’t go in there. The deputy’s in the middle of a meeting.” The secretary jumped from her chair to block his entrance, but she was too slow.

“Then it looks as if he’s going to have to postpone his meeting.” Paul barreled through the unlocked door and stared at the pudgy man sitting behind the desk. He slammed the door behind him. “You’re a difficult person to get a hold of, Deputy Ngani.”

“Paul Hayes.” The frown on the man’s ebony face broadened, increasing the lines across his bald head. “I’m on the phone. Make an appointment.”

“I’m sorry for the intrusion, but I’ve run out of time to play Mr. Nice Guy. I keep hearing rumors that this country’s in a state of emergency, but for some reason, no one seems to have noticed.”

Ngani mumbled something into the phone, then slammed down the receiver. “I suppose there’s a reason for this outlandish behavior. I could have you and your entire staff kicked out of the country by nightfall for this.”

“For stopping by for a friendly visit? Now that would go over real well with the UN and the dozens of humanitarian workers the world sends over every year, wouldn’t it?”

“Don’t threaten me.”

Paul’s jaw tensed. He was breaking every rule of diplomacy, but he was way past the slow dance required to tiptoe around matters of foreign affairs. He braced his hands against the table and leaned forward. “I want some answers.”

“What’s the question?”

Paul slid into the open chair across from the deputy. “According to the news, rebels raided Mt. Maja’s base camp. So with one confirmed American death and now possibly more, I want to know why I’ve had little if any contact from your offices.”

Ngani squirmed in his chair. “As you know, we have continued to keep your offices up to date with everything that is happening, but you have to understand that we also have to be extremely careful.”

The deputy picked up his phone, but Paul grabbed the receiver and slammed it down.

“I’ll call security and have you thrown out — ”

“I don’t have time for games. My people are in danger, and I want something done about it.”

“What do you want to know? We’ve sent out updated information on a daily basis to your offices.”

“That has told me nothing.”

Ngani’s gaze shifted down. “You must understand that while our army continues to hold back the rebels, they are both well armed and well organized. If we were to rush in there we could end up with a botched rescue attempt that leaves more dead than alive.”

“So we just sit back and do nothing while the rebels take over the country?”

“You act as if we’re at war, which we’re not. Yes, there have been a number of mild skirmishes in the northern region, but I can assure you that the army is in control.”

“So you keep telling me.”

“Perhaps if you and your people would spend less time contacting our offices and demanding information, and more time letting us do our job, we could put an end to this unfortunate situation.”

Paul forced back a laugh. So the blame now fell with him. Brilliant reasoning. “Does that statement include my inquiries regarding humanitarian workers who are here to help your country, or would you prefer they spent less time helping your people?”

“Of course not.”

“Then what happens next? We wait while the rebels slaughter both your people and mine?”

“I told you; the situation is under control.”

“Then tell me what measures you’ve taken so far and what risk my people are in.”

“You know as well as I do that the government is already in talks with the rebels, but this is an internal affair that my government is more than capable of dealing with.”

“Then why do you insist on keeping my office in the dark?” Paul’s head began to spin. He was sick of going in circles and getting nowhere. “Either you’re purposely downplaying what’s going on out there, or you’re out and out lying to me. Neither is an option I like.”

Ngani rubbed the back of his neck. “I’ve told you I don’t know anything about the raids involving Americans — ”

“Then tell me something you do know. There have been dozens of reports of slaughtered villagers in the Mponi region in the past few days, by rebels who aren’t happy with the way things are progressing in the so-called peace negotiations you’ve been holding. I have my men and every American citizen in the country poised to be evacuated, yet somehow all I hear from your office is that the army has everything under control.”

“Because we do. Don’t forget that fear tends to escalate the problem, which is what the rebels want—”

“As does naivety. Is that what you want? To insure the rest of the world doesn’t see that you’re incapable of handling this rebel onslaught?”

“I suggest that you don’t talk about things you clearly know little about.”

“Fine.” Paul garnered a deep breath. Obviously, his tactics weren’t working. “Then I’m formally informing your office that I will be contacting the State Department about pulling all foreign-aid workers upon my return to my office.”

Paul stormed from the room before the deputy had a chance to respond. No doubt he’d just severed the already fragile relationship with the deputy, but he was past caring. He had a job to do, and he intended to do it.

His phone rang halfway down the stairs. He pulled it from his pocket and checked the caller ID. It was Mercy.

“Paul here.”

“You need to return to the embassy as soon as possible. There’s someone here you need to talk to.”

Great. All he needed was another complication. “Who is it?”

“Her name’s Leah Freeman. She’s an American working with Volunteers for Hope International. She and several other Americans, Brits, an Aussie, and some RD nationals were on their way to the refugee camp up in Kingani with a convoy of trucks carrying supplies for the camp.”

Paul stopped at the bottom of the stairs. “I knew about the convoy. What happened?”

“She can tell you her story, but the convoy was hijacked by the rebels.”

“Where are the others?”

There was a long pause on the line. “They’re all dead.”