The Black List (31 page)

“Does that match where the phone signal was coming from?”

“About.”

The signal had stopped about thirty minutes before, and they figured someone must have discovered the phones and removed the batteries. Donovan looked at the gas gauge. If Hussein was telling the truth, and that was where they had taken them, they should have enough fuel to get there.

McNiel called a few minutes later with an update. “Marco should be landing at Garissa any moment. He’ll extract Micah from Dadaab, get him on a plane back, then meet up with you if you haven’t secured Liboi. Have you met up with the Kenyan military?”

“Not yet. We’re still several miles out. Tell me the list we sent is worth this.”

“Griffin’s working on it.”

“Get the bastard. I don’t want this to be for nothing.”

Overhead, scattered cirrus
clouds slipped across a cerulean sky, where just visible behind the trees of the dusty village, the setting sun tinged the horizon a burnt orange. It would be a while yet before they’d switch over to night vision, and Donovan adjusted the focus of his binoculars until he was able to see clearly, then scanned the area of the desert village that lay about eighteen kilometers west of the border of Somalia. Intel passed on to one of the Kenyan troops stationed in the area brought them to the outskirts of the town, such as it was, very close to the border, which was closed and guarded by troops. Stopping them before they got across was their only hope, and Donovan prayed they hadn’t been led astray. He was sprawled on the ground with the scrub and trees for cover, Lisette next to him. They’d been there for the last thirty minutes, sweating in the heat and dust, watching for some sign, while their Kenyan contact was off trying to get further information.

“How I spent my Christmas vacation,” Lisette said. “Do you realize that Marco and I had actually planned a ski trip?”

“You two are back together?” he asked.

“Why? You can’t get a date for the prom?”

He laughed. “Just glad to hear it. He sure was pissy while you two were broken up.”

She lowered her camera, glanced over at him with a wry look. “Much like you were on our last assignment after
you
got dumped?”

“That was different.”

“Could have fooled me,” she said, returning her attention to the village in front of them to snap a few photos.

“Can’t help it if I wear my heart on my sleeve.”

“You’re a good catch, Donnie boy. Don’t let anyone tell you different.”

He swung his binoculars to the left, scanning that area, then stopped when a man stepped out of one of the buildings, an automatic rifle slung over his shoulder. “Pretty heavy firepower for someone guarding a tin-roofed shack.”

“Where?”

“About ten o’clock.”

She aimed her camera and he heard the snap of the lens as she shot. “That’s got to be where they’re holding them.”

There was a rustle in the brush behind them. Donovan glanced over his shoulder and saw Robert Odoyo, the Kenyan military officer dressed in camouflage fatigues, crawling toward them. “What have you found?”

Donovan pointed.

“I would call in more troops, but we need to tread carefully,” Robert said. “They will not hesitate to kill them outright if they feel there is no escape.”

“I’m all for small-scale operations—especially when we’re outgunned.”

“Good, because that may be our only hope. If we fail and they get them over the border to Somalia . . .”

“That’s not gonna happen.”

Two women in colorful flowing skirts and head scarves walked past the front of the pirate house, carrying heavy pails of water from the well that was about a quarter of a mile away. Another woman in a drab gray gown with a niqab covering her face and head walked in the opposite direction, her bucket empty.

Lisette, who seemed to be following the woman’s movements with the lens of her camera, snapped a photo, then showed the digital screen to Donovan. “That, my friend, is how we get closer.”

“Not bad, Lisette. Not bad at all.”

The clothing they eventually found smelled of the desert air, having been lifted from lines in the yards of some of the unfortunate Liboi households who had not yet brought in their laundry after washing. Donovan left ten times the value in money in its place.

52

The stifling heat even
in the blacked-out room sapped all Tex’s strength, and several times he almost nodded off. His shoulders and neck were stiff, his gut sore from a kick, and his knees bruised when he was forced to the ground, but other than that he felt fortunate. He’d been in worse scrapes, and apparently their kidnappers were in a big hurry to hide them away, due to the troops guarding the roads. They’d be waiting for nightfall, undoubtedly, assuming they were going to attempt to get them across the Somalia border. And that, in Tex’s mind, beat the alternative, which was to simply kill them.

Eve stirred beside him. They were propped up against the mud wall, their hands tied behind them. He wasn’t sure if she’d been napping, but neither of them had spoken while their captors were in the room, their one attempt resulting in the kick to Tex’s gut. Nor had they said a thing for several minutes after being left alone, out of worry that the man might return. The voices in the next room were loud as someone laughed, and then, eventually, all was quiet. He hoped that meant they’d left.

Tex eyed their smashed cell phones, just visible in the dim light that filtered in through boards over what constituted windows on the exterior corrugated tin wall. The phones had at least survived until their arrival here, the kidnappers not bothering to look for them before tossing them into this room. He knew that Donovan would have tracked their cells the moment he noticed they were missing.

Assuming he’d noticed in time, before the phones were smashed.

It wasn’t like they’d discussed when they were to return. After all, the camps were large, and getting from one to the other was not the shortest of trips. Who knew how long it would take before Donovan or Lisette started to wonder what was going on.

But with the fading light also went any hope of rescue. If their kidnappers managed to get them across the border, their chance of being rescued alive diminished considerably. That thought sent him back to the task of trying to loosen up the plastic ties at his wrists. Eve was apparently doing the same.

“Any luck?” he finally whispered, when it seemed he was making no progress.

“Not yet.” She gave a quiet, almost heartbreaking laugh. “Funny, but I didn’t think my career was going to end this way, never mind my life.”

“Gotta remember the rules. First one, don’t give up.”

“What’s the second one?”

“Don’t ever forget the first one.”

“When you wrangled your way up to that stage when Barclay’s gunmen came after you? I thought, my God, you’re crazy. The guy’s got a gun and you’re running up onto the stage?”

“Seemed like the thing to do.”

“No stage to run up on here.”

“Night’s not over, darlin’.”

She gave a quiet, “Hm.” Then, after a moment, “When we get out of here, you want to go out? There’s this great little bar at this refugee camp down the road . . .”

He looked over at her, certain she was merely bolstering her spirits. Girls like her didn’t date guys like him. Not with any success, at least, something he well knew from the experiences of every agent he worked with. Griffin, Marco, Donovan . . . But even though he knew it was just small talk, he said, “We get out of here, I’ll take you to any bar you want.”

“
Any
bar?”

“Any.”

“You’re on.” She started scooting away from him.

“Change your mind already?”

“Are you kidding? Any bar? I know exactly where I want to go, and now that I have incentive to get out of here, I thought I’d do something about it. There was a little light coming in from that wall earlier. Made of metal, maybe it’ll cut through the ties.”

He watched as Eve shifted closer to the outer wall and felt around with her fingers. But then she said, “No edge to the metal. It’s bending out, not in.”

“It was worth a try.”

She sat there for a moment, and he could tell from the slump of her shoulders she was disappointed. But then she shook her head. “No way. You are
not
getting off that easy. I was thinking of a bar in Paris. You realize I’ve never been?”

“Paris? A little pricey for a first date.”

“You know what else I’m thinking? There is
no
way
whoever built this
crappy
little shack did a good enough job not to have a nail or piece of tin or
something
sticking out that we couldn’t use.”

“They probably don’t get the Do It Yourself channel out here.”

“Exactly, right? So get your ass up and help me look.”

He smiled. They might die trying, but at least they
were
trying. He rolled to his side, then stood, moving against the metal wall, feeling the day’s heat still radiating from it. And as he slid against the warm corrugated siding, he felt a seam catch against his sleeve. Too high, but that at least told him she was on to something. If one was there, surely another seam lower down might be used to slice the ties?

The door to the other room suddenly opened, the guard stopping in surprise at the sight of Tex on his feet. “What are you doing?”

“Scratching my back.”

“Get down.”

Eve dropped to the ground. Tex tried, but that metal snagged his shirt. The guard apparently took his hesitation as a sign of disrespect. He crossed the dirt floor, grabbed Tex by his shoulders, and slammed him against the wall. The corrugated metal seemed to spring him back into the man’s arms, which only made him madder.

“You pig!” He threw Tex again with the full force of his weight, the metal rumbling like a clap of thunder as his head, shoulder, and hip hit it full force, before he slid to the ground, a second before the man kicked him in his ribs, the blow glancing off, most of the force hitting the side of the building. He lay there stunned for several seconds, hearing nothing but the damned metal wall ringing in his ear while he tried to catch his breath. The guard stormed from the room, and Tex felt a brush of air as the door slammed shut.

Only the air didn’t come from that side of the room.

It came from the wall behind him. Hot air with the scent of the bush.

He shifted, felt some pain in his side, figured he was bruised.

“Tex?”

He didn’t answer. He didn’t want it to be his imagination. Not the breeze at all. Just him feeling light-headed from the blow to his ribs, or something.

“Tex? Are you okay?”

He felt it then. For real that time. He opened his eyes, looked at Eve. “You feel that?”

“Feel what?”

“The air moving. From the outdoors in. I think the bastard who tried to crack my ribs may have actually cracked open the seam in the wall.”

53

Moving the metal siding
out wasn’t as easy as they’d thought. Eve wasn’t even sure if Tex could hold it for her, since it wanted to spring back. They couldn’t get it wider, not without making so much noise that it would alert the guard in the other room. Not wide enough for Tex to get through. But it turned out he could hold it for her by pressing with his feet while she slid through between his legs and the sandy floor. Even then she was hesitant.

“I can’t leave you.”

“You will. You’ll get out, get help somehow. You’ll hide until daylight if necessary. You just get out.”

“My hands.”

“You’ll find a way to cut the ties.”

And still she wasn’t sure if it was a good idea. Granted, staying wasn’t a good idea, but leaving without him? And where could she go where she wouldn’t stick out like a sore thumb? Had they been at the refugee camp, she could pass as a volunteer worker. Here in this small village, where she didn’t know a word of the local language and doubted that any of the residents knew hers?

“Go.”

“Remember,” she said. “Paris.”

“You better not stand me up.”

She eyed the hole in the siding. “I’m thinking I might be due for a tetanus shot, so try not to let it snap shut on me.”

“Quit stalling and get your ass out there.”

“Maybe—”

“Go!”

She dropped to her side, scooting along the ground on her back until her head was positioned at the opening. She could see the night sky, the endless stars just above the ragged edge of the metal, reminding her that she didn’t want her face anywhere near that should Tex lose his precarious hold on it with his boots. Like an upside-down inch worm, she used her feet to scoot out, feeling the metal edge scraping against her left hip, then catching tight. She tried again. Couldn’t move.

“I’m stuck.”

She felt him shifting as he tried to move the metal out farther. It creaked loudly. Her heart skipped a beat at the sound, and she swung her hips up, felt the material tear, but she was free. She slid all the way out, then lay there a full second, breathing in the hot night air, staring at the stars in the black sky.

Move.
She twisted to her side, sat up, then eyed the metal sticking out. She shuffled back toward it, using the sharp edge to cut the wrist ties, the adrenaline working to get her past the pain of the metal slicing her skin. When her hands were free, she kneeled at the opening. “Maybe I can lift it high enough.”

She grasped the edges and pulled. The nails or screws held it too tight. “I need to find something for leverage,” she whispered. “I’ll be back.”

“Be careful, Eve.”

She looked around the yard, such as it was, an area of sand and low scrub, surrounded by a crude fence of sticks along one side and bushes on the other. She decided on the bushes, since they led away from the front of the house. At a crouch, she hurried in that direction, then startled as a dark wraithlike figure came at her from the side of the house. Before she could turn and run, it grabbed her, clamped a hand over her mouth, then dragged her into the night.