About the Publisher
“R&R is over, team.” Navy SEAL Corpsman Graham “Buck” Buckner clapped his hands together as he walked across the fourth floor of the bombed-out apartment building in Bentiu, South Sudan. “It’s time to do what we do best.”
“Yeah, Buck.” Diesel lay prone, staring through the sight of his M4A1 rifle with the SOPMOD upgrade. “And what’s that? Lying around in the heat, waiting for something to happen?”
“Men, we’re here on an important mission.” Buck grinned. “So what if it’s hotter than Hades outside and we haven’t had a breeze in over a week? We’re here to get our man. Let’s do this.”
“Shut up, Buck,” T-Mac said. “Nothing’s stirred in this godforsaken town since we got here.”
“That doesn’t mean it won’t. The intel guys said we’d find Koku here. My gut tells me it won’t be long before something happens.”
“Your gut is telling you that you’re hungry.” Pitbull tossed a packet of meals ready to eat at Buck. “Feed your gut.”
Buck ducked, letting the MRE packet fall to the floor, unheeded. “Seriously, we’ve been in worse situations where we all almost died. This isn’t that bad.”
“At least our enemies weren’t boring us to death,” Pitbull said. He pulled a photograph from his pocket and stared down at it. “We could have spent two more days at the All Things Wild Resort, enjoying our last little bit of rest and relaxation.” He sighed. “I wonder if Marly’s packing her apartment in Nairobi right now. I’d like to have been there to help her.”
Harm snorted. “You’re just afraid she’ll say, What the hell was I thinking, falling for a navy SEAL? She might change her mind and stay in Africa.”
Pitbull’s lips twisted. “Yeah. I guess I am afraid of that. Why would she give up her life here in Africa to be with me?”
“Yeah, who’d want to give up a life in Africa?” T-Mac quipped. “It’s such a bowl of cherries, what with pirates, warlords and tribal wars everywhere you turn. Think of the excitement she’ll be missing.”
“And why wouldn’t she want to be with you?” Diesel asked. “Some women like ugly mugs like yours.”
“Hey, you found a woman here,” Pitbull reminded him. “And you’re no Mr. GQ yourself.”
“Ha! Wait until she realizes he snores like a freight train,” Big Jake murmured from his position on the other side of the room, holding a pair of binoculars to his eyes. “You and Diesel are just mad you didn’t get to spend more time with your women—now that you have women.” He glanced back at them. “Get over it. Like Buck said, we have a job to do. Let’s do it.”
Buck crossed to where Big Jake leaned his elbows on the rubble that had once been a wall. “Anything?” he asked, staring out at the buildings they’d been surveilling since they’d arrived.
“Not much,” Big Jake said. “Our old man with the mule cart is passing in front of the compound now. You could set the clock by that man. Same time every day.”
“I’ll take watch for now,” Buck offered.
“Good. My eyes are crossing.” Big Jake handed the binoculars to Buck. “If you’re not going to eat those MREs, I will.”
“Knock yourself out.” Buck rubbed a hand over his flat abs. “My belly isn’t over the brisket with au gratin potatoes I had for breakfast.”
“We tried to warn you about them,” Harm said.
Buck couldn’t deny it. Harm had told him it would mess him up. His stomach was still burbling four hours later. “Yeah, well, I’ll listen next time.” He lifted the binoculars to his eyes and focused on the structure on the other side of the bombed-out marketplace.
The intel guys had identified the compound as one that General Ibrahim Koku frequented—a local government facility where he had friends conspiring with him to make life hell for the people of Sudan and South Sudan.
The general was a defector from the South Sudan Army and the self-appointed leader of the Sudanese People’s Resistance Army, which had been terrorizing South Sudan for the past fourteen months, killing entire populations of villages and conscripting children to be part of his army. As if that wasn’t bad enough, he was also the primary reason US aid wasn’t getting to the starving people in refugee camps in Sudan’s Darfur region, or anywhere else, for that matter. He’d stolen food, medical supplies and even the vehicles transporting them.
And when US money was being thrown away on aid, the American government sent in their boys to fix it. So, instead of enjoying a full week off for much-needed rest and relaxation, the SEAL team had been called back to duty from their Kenyan safari vacation two days early. And for what? To sit in the heat of the sub-Saharan desert and roast like pigs on a spit.
They didn’t know when the general would show up, just that their mission was to take him out when he did.
Buck expanded his view to take in more of the surrounding area. A couple blocks to the south, a crowd of women gathered, growing in number as the woman in the center raised her fist to the sky, probably shouting something. From the distance, Buck couldn’t hear what was being said, but the crowd responded, chanting something he couldn’t understand. As one, the crowd turned and marched down the middle of the street, headed north on the same boulevard where the general’s compound stood.
In the opposite direction, a number of blocks away, a motorcade of black SUVs sped south, on a collision course with the women staging a protest.
“Heads up,” Buck said to his teammates. “Things are about to get interesting. Motorcade coming from the north.”
Diesel shifted his body and weapon. “Got the vehicles in my sights.”
“And what looks like a riot coming from the south,” Buck added.
“A riot?” Harm asked and hurried to where Buck stood to see for himself.
Big Jake, T-Mac and Pitbull took up positions against the crumbling walls.
“Holy crap, if those women are on a mission to protest our favorite general, they’re going to be slaughtered.”
“What can we do?” Buck asked.
“Nothing,” Big Jake said. “We’re not here to stop them from protesting. We’re here to take out Koku.”
Buck glanced toward the oncoming motorcade. “Yeah, but—”
“No buts,” Big Jake said. “We’re here to stop Koku’s reign of terror. The end. No side trips to the mall, no flirting with the local girls.”
Buck lifted the binoculars again and focused on the woman leading the march. Unlike the others, who were dressed in brightly colored head scarves and dresses, the woman’s head was bare. She had dark hair, dark eyes and much lighter skin than the other women marching. And she wore faded blue jeans and a white T-shirt with a red design and black lettering. “Guys, is that woman wearing a Doctors Without Borders T-shirt?” He handed the binoculars to Harm.
“Damn.