So the Mk 17 SCAR-H carbine I’d claimed back in February was lying on my bed, complete with grenade launcher, weapon light, and ACOG scope. I hadn’t yet reassembled it after giving it a thorough cleaning. That rifle and I had been through a lot together, and it hadn’t let me down. I wished I could keep it.
My body armor and load-bearing vest were on the bed as well. The armor still had Rafael Montalban’s .357 slug buried in it. My vest was stocked with ammunition and even a couple of grenades. The colonel had been adamant about us being ready to fight in case something bad happened, and none of us argued with him. There was no sense getting killed on your last night in-country.
I’d lined my various souvenirs up on the metal shelf that sat against the wall of my room until I figured out where I was going to pack them. The strange wooden puzzle box that I’d found in Adar’s safe was there, and I’d managed to sort of put it back together. Next to it was Rafael Montalban’s elaborate Korth revolver. I’d found my harmonica, too, which I was happy about. I hadn’t played it once since I’d been in the Zoob and had actually forgotten I’d brought it.
On the floor next to the shelf was a backpack full of money. It was my share of the loot we’d stolen from the man named Lorenzo. We’d split it four ways between Tailor, Hudson, Wheeler, and myself. Hudson was taking Wheeler’s share. He said he’d make sure Wheeler’s parents got the money. I had no doubt in my mind that he’d honor that promise.
I’d planned to use that money to pay Exodus for safe passage out of Zubara. Happily, I wasn’t going to need their services now, which meant I could keep the money. My share amounted to about a hundred and twenty-five thousand dollars’ worth of British pounds. I also had, stashed somewhere else, a smaller pouch with my half of the money from Adar’s safe. The spoils of war . . .
I called Ling on the phone she’d given me and told her the good news. She congratulated me but said that if the situation changed I could still call her. We’d made a deal and she’d honor it, she said. She told me that her people would be in Zubara for a few more days, though they were still leaving earlier than planned because of the looming civil war.
There were two quick knocks on my bathroom door, and Sarah came into my room. I smiled as soon as I saw her, and her eyes lit up. We embraced and kissed.
“Hey, you,” she said, looking up into my eyes. “Getting all packed up?”
“You know it,” I said. “I can’t believe how much crap I’ve accumulated since I’ve been here. I hope they don’t charge us for luggage.” I laughed.
“I wonder how long it’ll take us to get home?” Sarah said. “I mean, this boat could be going anywhere.”
“It could be weeks,” I suggested. “Or longer. Who knows? Hell, who cares? The important thing is we’re getting out of here.”
“I can’t believe it,” Sarah said, looking down. “After everything we’ve been through, all the people we’ve lost, we’re just leaving. It was all for nothing.”
I sighed. She was right. A lot of people had died, and we had nothing to show for it. “I know,” I said. “The important thing is we’re still alive. We have each other. We’re going home. All things considered, I’ll settle for that.”
Sarah gave me a sad smile. “Me, too. So, uh, where are you going when you get home?”
“I don’t really have a home,” I said. “The closest thing I have to family is a cranky old bastard named Hawk. He lives in a little town called Quagmire, Nevada. I’ll probably go there, since I don’t have anywhere else to stay. What about you?”
“I managed to get an e-mail off to my mom, telling her I’m coming home,” Sarah said excitedly. “She doesn’t even know where I’ve been. Not really, anyway. I gave her a story, told her I was working as a translator for an oil company. I’ll probably go back to Modesto, where she lives. I don’t have anyplace else to stay either.”
I chewed in my lip for a moment. “Modesto is a long way from Quagmire,” I said.
“You know, I hate living in California anyway,” Sarah said, smiling again. “I could, I suppose, be talked into leaving. You know, with the right incentive package.”
I raised an eyebrow theatrically. “Baby, I’ve got an incentive package right here,” I said, gesturing to myself while grinning stupidly.
Sarah laughed out loud. “You’re cute when you’re being a retard, you know that? Are you asking me to move in with you?”
“Eh, you might want to let me find a place to live first,” I said.
“Oh no, it’s not going to be that easy,” Sarah said, eyes twinkling. “You’re going to have to meet my mother first.”
“Oh boy,” I said without enthusiasm.
“Stop it, my mom is a sweet lady.”
“Wow,” I said after a moment. “This is all surreal. We’re really doing this, aren’t we? Holy shit. We’re going home!”
“I know, right?” Sarah said, squeezing me again. “Thank God.”
I closed my eyes, holding Sarah tightly. “Thank God.”
LORENZO
Carl and I sat in the van. It had turned out to be the hottest day so far this year, so of course, the air conditioner in our secondary van had died. We had one other vehicle stashed in a storage unit but it would stick out way too much in this neighborhood. The heat was like a stifling blanket, burning the air in my lungs. Sweat dripped down my back and pooled in my armpits. I finished the bottle of water and tossed it. Tonight was the night.
“You ready?” Carl asked from behind the wheel.
“Yep.” I cracked the vertebrae of my neck after securing the transmitter around my throat. This was it. “Radio check.”
“I can hear you fine. I’ve got a clear view of the gate, and the guards don’t seem to be checking anything,” Jill said. “I think it’s too hot for them to care.”
She was out of sight, a couple hundred yards up the road, closer to the fort. Alone, unarmed, and ready to step out into traffic on a moment’s notice. She sounded excited.
“I’ve got you, chief,” Reaper’s voice echoed in my ear. I knew that he would be sitting in the darkened apartment, half a dozen screens open in front of him, joystick in hand, four radio channels going at once, processing absurd amounts of information, and totally in his element. Even though he was ten miles away, Reaper was going to be my eyes. “Little Bird can see the van just perfect, nice and bright on thermal, too.”
Circling high overhead was Reaper’s favorite toy and the single most expensive thing that I had ever purchased, and that included sports cars, yachts, and houses. Little Bird was basically the world’s fanciest remote-controlled plane. Well, at least that a regular person could actually purchase. No matter how bad Reaper wanted one, we couldn’t afford a Predator drone.
L.B. had a wingspan of only ten feet. When you took it apart, the whole thing fit into two big suitcases. It wasn’t fast, it didn’t have any guns, but what it did have was the ability to stay in the air for damn-near forever running off what was basically a glorified leaf-blower engine, all while snooping with every type of camera you could think of. It was like having my own portable spy satellite.
Old Fort Saradia was visible at the end of the road. Those twenty-foot walls had been built over a hundred years ago by the British Empire. There were only two entrances, one off the road, and a smaller one on the opposite side overlooking the rudimentary dock, and thermal showed that both of them were being guarded.