Suppressors muted the bark of their automatic rifles. Single shots took down the first three Tuaregs. Grenades tossed behind boulders took out four others. The team advanced up the hill. Guo fired a grenade launcher throwing flash bangs. Two more Tuaregs dropped, clutching their ears, until Chinese bullets shattered their brainpans. Guo and his men finally crested the hill. The remaining Tuaregs were clustered in two caves. No easy way to get them out. Guo pulled a white phosphorus grenade and tossed it into the first cave. When the phosphorus was exposed to the air, it flashed a brilliant white light and caught fire. A Tuareg leaped out of the cave enveloped in unquenchable flames, screaming. Guo’s men let him pass. A second came out, clothes ablaze, gun firing. He was cut down, but not before putting a round into the smart glass of one of his men. The operator’s POV video image on Guo’s command screen went black.
According to Guo’s display, there were still three people left in the first cave, and six more in the next, ten meters ahead. Guo dashed for the second cave and tossed another WP grenade. More screams.
WHOOSH! An RPG screamed out of the black maw of the cave and roared over Guo’s head. He dropped to the ground reflexively. Good thing. Bullets spanged into the rock just behind him. Had he remained standing, he would have been cut in half. His comrade called, two more down.
BOOM! A grenade went off ten meters behind him. His second video screen went blank. His last comrade down. Guo laughed, battle-crazed. This is how heroes died, he told himself. He tossed another flash bang into the cave, waited for two seconds for the flash to pass, then tossed in a conventional grenade. It thudded. Guo dashed in, gun blazing. Bullets tore high into the chest of a man against the far cave wall trying to raise a rifle. The other four were already dead.
Guo heard the crack of a rifle. A sledgehammer slammed into his back, square in the center of his body armor. Guo dropped to the ground and rolled hard to the left, drawing his pistol. He emptied the mag into the man’s chest. The Tuareg spilled to the ground, grasping sand in his fists until a last breath escaped his lungs.
Guo stood up unsteadily and surveyed the rest of the carnage. Five dead in here. But not Mossa or Pearce. Just a boy and four women, burned to death. Disappointing.
No glory in that.
He stumbled back out into the warm night air and loaded a new mag in his pistol. He approached the prone body of his man by the cave and checked for a pulse, but there was none. Blood soaked the sand around the corpse. Too bad. Guo edged his way as quietly as he could into the other cave. He crept along a broad, low-ceilinged passageway for several meters until he came to a large natural cave. There were two bodies on the ground. One moaned. Guo ran over to the one moaning. Not Mossa, not Pearce. He checked the other body. Dead. Not Mossa, not Pearce.
Guo kneeled down next to the bleeding Tuareg. He pulled a knife. The Tuareg’s eyes widened with terror.
“Where did Mossa go?” he asked in French.
Five minutes later, after much blood and pain, the Tuareg died. And Guo had his answer.
41
CBS Studios
Washington, D.C.
10 May
Meet the Nation was the oldest of the Sunday-morning news shows, and its anchor, Howard Finch, the most ancient and venerable of the bunch.
“Senator Fiero, thank you so much for being here today. Presidential candidates are even busier than sitting senators, so I appreciate your taking the time to join us this morning. My sources in the know say that you have the Democratic nomination all but sewn up for 2016. That must feel pretty good.”
“As you well know, there’s nothing ever ‘all sewn up’ in politics, especially in the Democratic Party. We’re listening to the American people, and they’re concerned about the direction this nation’s headed.”
“My polling data suggests that the majority of Americans are pretty happy with the way things are going now under President Greyhill. For the first time in a long time, we seem to be fighting in fewer places, fighting fewer political battles over things like debt ceilings, and experiencing something of an energy renaissance, thanks to the new federal policies on oil and natural gas extraction.”
You’re a smug old bastard, Fiero thought. “There’s no doubt that our economy has enjoyed a temporary boost from the oil and gas industry, but of course, all of that began under former president Myers, not President Greyhill.”
“So you don’t give President Greyhill any credit for the peace and prosperity this country is currently enjoying?”
“Well, I certainly give him credit for not undoing the hard work that we in the Congress accomplished along with President Myers in helping right the fiscal ship, particularly in regard to the budget freeze. But there are still millions of people in this country, Howard, who haven’t been able to dig out from the wreckage of the financial crisis of 2008, and this country faces significant strategic threats that are ill-served by our current foreign policy.”
“What threats are you referring to?” Finch asked.
“There’s a new ‘Scramble for Africa’ now under way. China in particular is making tremendous headway all over the continent, securing significant reserves of natural resources in the forests, oceans, and mines of that great continent. They’re also establishing strategic relationships with African governments along the way.”
“No offense, Madame Senator, but help me out here. Why do we care a fig if China is growing rice in Angola or fishing in the Gulf of Guinea?”
“The West owes a particular moral debt to the African continent for our centuries of exploitation, particularly our own sordid history regarding the slave trade. It’s our responsibility to see that Africa develops in a way that benefits all Africans, not just the wealthy dictators and oligarchs, and certainly we shouldn’t allow the continent to once again be reexploited by the mercantilist policies of the Chinese government. That being said, the Chinese are playing a very smart geopolitical game. The greatest opportunity for Chinese influence today—Chinese money, Chinese trade contracts, and even Chinese weapons—is Africa. If there’s ever going to be a shooting war between our two great nations in the future, the Chinese warships, tanks, and planes used against us will be built and fueled from the natural resources they harvested out of African soil.”
“Are you proposing we put American boots on the ground in Africa to stop the Chinese?”
“We already have boots on the ground over there. The reason why AFRICOM was created back in 2007—and by the way, I voted for that spending authorization—was to take on the al-Qaeda threat in Africa. But it’s been horribly neglected under President Greyhill. I’m drawing up a bill to strengthen and expand those forces to meet the rising tide of militant Islam that’s exploding across the continent, particularly in places where Chinese influence has taken hold. Mali, for example. I’d hate for that poor nation to become another staging base for al-Qaeda, the way they used Afghanistan.”
“I thought the French took care of the Islamic threat in Mali back a few years ago,” Finch said.
“The French managed to push back the threats briefly, but the al-Qaeda presence is on the rise. Jihadists all over the region have engaged in terrorist acts against pipelines, tourists, and local police forces. But, of course, not against Chinese facilities, at least not in Mali.”
“Are you implying a Chinese connection to terrorists in Mali?”