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The second guard checked Merrick’s pulse at his wrist and throat. “Heart’s beating fine. He’ll probably have a concussion when he wakes.”
“Good.” Singer stooped over Merrick’s prone form. “Geoff, I hope that cheap shot was worth it, because it was the last act of free will you will ever experience. Lock him back up.”
Twenty minutes later the Twin Otter took to the skies once again, heading northward to the Angolan province of Cabinda.
15
AS soon as the harbor pilot had climbed down the rope ladder to his waiting tender, Max Hanley and Linda Ross took the secret elevator from the wheelhouse down to the operations center. It was like stepping from a junkyard into NASA’s mission control. They’d played the roles of captain and helmsman for the benefit of the South Af
rican pilot, but Max was officially off duty. The watch belonged to Linda.
“You going back to your cabin?” she asked, settling herself in the command seat and slipping on her headset.
“No,” Max said sourly. “Doc Huxley’s still worried about my blood pressure so she and I are heading for the gym. She plans on introducing me to power yoga, whatever the hell that is.”
Linda chuckled. “Oh, I would love to see that.”
“If she tries to bend me into a pretzel I’m going to tell Juan to start searching for a new chief medical officer.”
“It’ll be good for you. Cleanse your aura, and all that.”
“My aura is fine,” he said with good-natured gruffness and headed off to his cabin.
The watch was quiet as they cleared the shipping lanes and started to ramp up the speed. An unexpected storm was brewing to their north but would likely blow itself westward by the time they reached Swakopmund late the next day. Linda used the idle hours to go over the mission briefing Eddie and Linc had written about their upcoming assault on the Devil’s Oasis.
“Linda,” Hali Kasim called from his communication’s station. “I just got something off the wire service. You’re not going to believe it. I’m sending it to your display.”
She scanned the news item and immediately sent out a ship wide page for Max to come to the op center. He arrived a minute later from the engine room where he’d been performing an unnecessary inspection. The yoga had taken a toll on him: his gait was noticeably hampered by muscles not used to so much stretching.
“You wanted to see me?”
Linda swiveled her flat-panel display so Max could read the news for himself. The tension in the room had risen as though an electric current had passed between the two.
“Will someone please tell us what’s happened?” Eric Stone asked from the helmsman’s position.
“Benjamin Isaka has been implicated in a coup plot,” Linda replied. “He was arrested a couple of hours ago.”
“Isaka. Why does that name sound familiar?”
Max answered, “He was our government contact in the Congo for that weapons deal.”
“Oh, man, that is seriously not good,” Mark Murphy said. Though there was no need to man the Oregon’s offensive systems he usually took his position whenever the senior staff had the watch.
“Hali, any word on the weapons we delivered?” Linda asked. She didn’t care about Congo’s local politics, but the Corporation had a responsibility for those arms.
“Sorry, I haven’t checked. That report just came through the AP wire service a minute ago.”
Linda looked to Max. “What do you think?”
“I have to agree with Mr. Murphy. This could be a potential disaster. If Isaka told the rebels about the radio tags and they disabled them, then we just handed five hundred assault rifles and a couple hundred grenade launchers to one of the most dangerous group of thugs in Africa.”
“I can’t find anything about weapons being seized,” Hali said. “The story’s still breaking so maybe it will come through later.”
“Don’t count on it.” Max had his pipe in his hand and was tapping the stem against his teeth. “Isaka had to have told them. Hali, is there any way we can check the signals from the radio tags?”
The Lebanese-American frowned. “I don’t think so. Their range is pretty limited. The whole idea was for Congolese army forces to follow the arms back to the rebel base using handheld detectors that could pick up the tags’ signals. They only needed to broadcast for a couple of miles.”
“So we’re screwed,” Linda said, her anger putting a hard edge in her girlish voice. “Those guns could be anywhere and we have no way of finding them.”
