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“Yeah.”
“I managed to detour Wilson’s motorcade once, but that was all. They’re two minutes out. What’s your situation?”
“I’m in the church.”
“Do you have time to get out?”
“I’m staying,” he said, starting to climb a ladder into the balcony. “I’ve got good position here.”
“And Kent?” Her tone suggested that she thought he might be dead.
“On his way to relieve Donatella.”
“I don’t need that boy’s help,” Donatella chimed in.
“Don’t argue. Just give him the rifle,” Rapp said.
Azarov’s voice came on. “I have eyes on three cars approaching the front gate. Moving fast. I
can’t see inside them, though.”
“Donatella?” Rapp said, moving to a partially intact stained glass window and peering through one of the clear panels. The sun was coming up, casting the city in a deep-orange glow. “What have you got?”
“I can’t see in the cars, either, but we have a lot of activity from Abdo’s sentries, and the civilians in the street are all running for cover.”
Rapp spotted the approaching vehicles in the dawn light. They skidded to a stop at the front gate, and four men got out of the lead car, fanning out as one of them went to work with a set of bolt cutters.
“I’ve taken over Donatella’s position,” Kent said. “Ready to rock.”
The gate was pushed open and the remaining passengers stepped out as the cars eased inside. To Rapp’s practiced eye, a few looked extremely well trained, but the others were a mess. Not what he’d expect from a team assembled from Saudi spec ops. Further, there were two men who looked like locals.
“Give me a sitrep on Abdo’s men,” Rapp said.
“They’re in the process of surrounding the building, staying out of sight,” Azarov responded.
Rapp pulled out his Glock and checked it. He wasn’t sure if any of this was going to work but, at the very least, it was going to be interesting.
CHAPTER 48
JOEL Wilson leaned forward between the SUV’s seats, scanning through the windshield. The sunrise was still just a weak glow on the horizon, but it provided enough illumination for him to watch his men spread out in the courtyard. A few seconds later they had breached the peeling front doors and disappeared inside the church.
What they would find was a complete unknown. He had no assets in Juba and there had been no time for meaningful reconnaissance. In a city full of war-weary and suspicious Sudanese, the presence of an advance team would have been reported throughout the region in a matter of hours. There had been no choice but to roll into town like a hurricane in an effort to stay ahead of the informants that Rapp undoubtedly had on the payroll.
His fingers gripped the seats as he anticipated the telltale bursts of automatic fire followed by the individual volleys of Rapp’s pistol. The clock in his head ticked steadily, each movement of the imaginary second hand reducing his hopes further. Finally a heavily accented voice came over his earpiece. “The building is clear.”
“Fuck!” Wilson said, throwing himself back in the seat.
“We go in?” his driver asked.
“Of course we go in, idiot! Now, move!”
They accelerated through the gate and Wilson got out into the rising heat of the morning. Where the fuck was that CIA son of a bitch? Gone to murder more innocent Saudis? Or had he been tipped off? And if it was the latter, who was responsible? Someone at the local airport? Someone back in Washington? One of Wilson’s own men? He knew little about them other than the fact that they had Nassar’s confidence.
As impressive as the Saudi intelligence chief was, moving this quickly and joining forces with locals was always dangerous. Loyalties in this part of the world were bought and sold almost hourly.
Wilson jogged inside and pushed the doors closed behind him. “Cover all the entrances and get men up into the balcony. I also want men on the outside wall spotting in every direction. If Rapp doesn’t know we’re here, he might be stupid enough to walk into a trap. And if he does know we’re here, he might be stupid enough to attack.”
“Understood,” came the response over his earpiece, although no one seemed to be moving.
