SOUTHWESTERN UGANDA
“SO, there’s no way we can get in touch with the US team you think is on the ground? They must have some kind of communications. Even if it’s a personal satphone.”
Rapp wasn’t sure who had spoken but recognized the accent as Dutch. The tent was packed—not just with Scott Coleman’s core team but with the other operators they’d managed to bring in. A few had been left on the perimeter but everyone else was here, heating up the confined space and permeating it with the stench of sweat.
“That operation is completely black—probably put together by the president and the head of the Joint Chiefs personally. We don’t even know who they are, and no one wants to push the issue.” Rapp scanned the faces around him. “And that brings me to a related subject. It’s my understanding the president wants us out of here. More than that, he’s pretty much ordered us out of here.”
Many of the men shrugged. A few laughed. Not surprising, since the majority weren’t American and had no reason to concern themselves with the wishes of Anthony Cook. Rapp turned his attention to Coleman. “Scott?”
“Are you saying he’s offering to buy out my contract with Ward?”
“Nobody’s told me about there being any money on the table.”
“Then I don’t work for him and he can kiss my ass.”
Based on their expressions, everyone on his team felt the same way.
“All right. Then let’s move on. If those soldiers are out there, Auma’s aware of it. He’ll be tracking their movements in case they know something about Chism that he doesn’t.”
“That puts us in a tough spot,” Coleman said. “If we start up a big operation on top of them, Auma might see them as having outlived their usefulness and attack.”
“I agree, but there’s nothing we can do about it at this point. If Chism and his people are alive, their clock is ticking.”
“So, the American force is on its own,” someone said.
Rapp nodded. “Chism’s our mission. If we find ourselves in a position to help the others, we’ll do it. But it’s a secondary consideration. Understood?”
Murmurs of assent.
“All right,” Rapp said. “That brings us to the question of how we’re going to do it.” He tapped a black circle on a map propped on an easel. “This is the hospital Chism theoretically escaped from. Because of difficult terrain and a best-case estimate of their capabilities, we think they’re inside this perimeter. If we disregard some of the steeper terrain that wouldn’t be navigable by them and keep in mind that they’d need to be reasonably close to a water source, that leaves the areas shaded in red. Not an insignificant amount of territory to cover, but also not half the country.”
“From a difficulty standpoint, though, you’ve got to multiply it by fifty,” Joe Maslick said. “I mean, we could walk within five feet of them and never know it if they weren’t making noise.”
“Agreed. We’re never going to find them. That’s why we need them to find us.”
“Am I wrong, or does it sound like you’ve got a plan?” Charlie Wicker said.
“I have a plan,” Rapp confirmed. “We’ve got a pretty solid profile on Chism and in the last couple days we’ve managed to send investigators to talk to his friends and family. One of the things we learned is that he’s an amateur naturalist and pretty good with a map and compass. We can use that.”
“How?” somebody asked.
“We’re bringing in more choppers and tonight we’re going to go out and bury caches in the areas where he could be hiding. Then we’re going to drop maps with instructions on how to find them.”
“I don’t think this plan will work,” a man near the open tent flap said. The ebony skin and accent suggested he wasn’t too far from home. Rapp didn’t know him personally, but Coleman had used him on a number of African operations and was a fan.
“Why?”
“You are right that a lot of the men who follow Gideon Auma aren’t going to speak English or know how to read. But he’s much smarter than people think and uses technology very well. He will have teams, and each will have a satellite phone. Even if they can’t read the maps, they will be able to take a picture and send it to someone who can. If Chism gets to one of your caches, they will be waiting for him.”
“We thought exactly the same thing. So, we used what we learned about him to write out instructions only he’ll understand.” Rapp stepped away from the map and once again examined the men crowded in around him. “Sunset’s in two hours. The choppers will start coming in an hour after that. Scott has your assignments. Any questions?”
Everyone just shook their heads.