54 |

Ganno Residence
South of Aksum, Ethiopia

 

“We’ve got company!”

Ganno, prepping to join the others, spun on his heel as Theodros rushed through the front door. “Who?”

“I don’t know. Four vehicles. Two to the north, two to the south. All armed.”

“Soldiers?”

Theodros shook his head. “No, the guys to the north look white, and the south look Middle Eastern. We must have been followed.”

“How? You said you neutralized the tail, and we had an escort vehicle trail us by more than a kilometer.”

Theodros threw up his hands. “I don’t know! He had friends? Does it matter?”

Ganno grunted, shrugging his AK-47 over his shoulder. “No, it doesn’t.”

Theodros ushered him out the door and toward their awaiting vehicle. “We need to get you out of here.”

Ganno grabbed his brother by the arm. “No, we must all go.”

Theodros shook his head. “They’ll just follow us if we do. You go, we’ll engage them so you can escape. Rendezvous with the others and send help.”

Ganno embraced his brother, bowing to Baruch as he rushed the women, including his wife, away to safety at another house a short distance away. If these new arrivals were after him, they should ignore the women, unless they were true barbarians.

Gunfire erupted from one of his men, the two hostile positions opening up with what sounded like far superior firepower. He hopped in the already running truck and slammed it in gear, flooring it then popping the clutch. The vehicle surged forward and down a rise, immediately providing him with some cover. He glanced to his right to see his wife and the others running toward the shelter of their neighbor’s house, and sighed in relief as he spotted his children waving at them, safely out of range.

They would survive the day.

He just wondered if their uncles would.

Please, Lord, take care of my family and friends.

 

Tankov hammered on the brakes, bringing them to a halt. Utkin handed him binoculars and he surveyed the area, a smile spreading. It was exactly as he had hoped. There was a three-way gun battle unfolding, with all sides taking losses. All they would have to do is wait, then clean up the mess, with hopefully somebody in the house that seemed to be the primary target—and an exact match to the GPS coordinates they had just paid handsomely for—surviving the day to answer their questions.

Utkin pointed to their left. “Look.”

Tankov turned to see a truck racing away, billowing dust behind it, there little doubt as to who its lone occupant was. “That’s our guy.”

“What makes you think that?”

“Because he’s alone. If they were just trying to escape, that truck would be loaded with people. Instead, these guys stayed behind to give him a chance to get away.”

Utkin nodded. “Sounds right. So, what are we going to do?”

“Play Follow the Leader. There’s nothing to learn here beyond what we already have.”

Utkin eyed Tankov. “And what’s that?”

“That the GPS coordinates were bullshit.

Utkin’s eyebrows shot up. “What makes you say that? There’s obviously something going on here.”

“Yes, but we’re being used. There’s no church here. There’s just a house. The Ark isn’t here, and there’s no way the professors are here.” Tankov shook his head. “We were led here, probably to have us take out whoever lives in that house.”

Utkin frowned. “So that guy we’ve been paying was lying?”

Tankov shook his head. “No, I don’t think that’s what’s going on here. He’s too stupid to come up with something like this.”

“Then what?”

“I think we’re being played.”

“You mean there’s no Ark?”

Tankov shrugged. “I don’t know, perhaps, perhaps not, but somebody else is involved, and with those two professors in the mix, I think I know who it is.”

“Who? The American government?”

“Yup.” Tankov stuck his head out the window, staring up at the sky.

“So, we’re being watched?”

Tankov leaned back in. “Absolutely.”

“Then what are we going to do?”

“Follow the leader, and see how things play out.” He raised a finger. “But watch your backs. Special Ops could already be on the ground.”

 

Dawson touched down and spun, hauling in his chute as the rest of the team landed around him. Their local contact, a man named Tesfay, jogged over to greet them, a ridiculously inadequate pickup truck the only transport in sight.

“Are you Mr. White?”

Dawson nodded. “Mr. Tesfay?”

“Yes, sir.”

He pointed at the truck. “This is our transport?”

“Sorry, I had something bigger, but they made me and shot it up. This was the best I could do.” He beckoned them to follow him. “Don’t worry. It’s not far. You won’t be uncomfortable for long.”

Niner smacked Dawson on the arm. “Forget comfort.” He jerked a thumb at the massive Atlas. “If he gets in the back of this thing, we won’t be going anywhere.”

Atlas’ impossibly deep voice cheerfully replied. “Don’t worry, little man, if we need traction, we’ll just put you under the tires.”

Niner shoved the big man into the back of the truck as the others piled in, the shocks creaking in protest, the tires and frame getting disturbingly close. Dawson climbed into the passenger seat and slammed the door shut as Niner climbed over the hood and onto the roof. His head suddenly poked in the driver side window.

“No sudden stops, okay? I’d hate to damage the paint job.”

Dawson reached over and shoved the man’s face back outside. “Ignore him.”

Tesfay started the truck and put it in gear, gently easing it forward, the engine struggling with the weight. It took longer than any would have liked, but they were soon in second gear, then third, and at least traveling faster than they would on foot.

Dawson’s comm squawked.

“Zero-One, Control. Stand by for new coordinates.”