“Ok, if we’re not back by first light, get the hell out of here. Don’t linger a moment longer than you have to,” said Mitchell firmly to Fahimah. “Contact Sam and Cardinal and tell them what we’re doing. If you ever feel that your life is in danger, don’t hesitate. Make your way to their location as fast as you can.”
Fahimah nodded and then wished Mitchell and Jackson luck as she put the UAV away in its case.
Grabbing a couple of extra water bottles, Mitchell closed the door to the Land Rover and then walked over to Jackson, who was busy jamming as many magazines as he could into his chest-rig.
“Ready for a little night-time stroll?” said Mitchell, looking up at the cliff face in front of them.
“As long as I don’t have to climb a sheer rock face in the dark, I guess so,” said Jackson, knowing that was exactly what they were about to do.
Fifteen minutes later, Mitchell rolled over onto the rocky ledge and lay on his sweat-soaked back, staring up into the brilliant night sky as he inhaled deeply, filling his aching lungs with much-needed oxygen. Millions of stars shone in the darkness of space. Across the heavens, a shooting star raced past and quickly disappeared from sight. Mitchell superstitiously made a wish, and then turned back to the edge of the cliff as a hand thrust itself up onto the ledge. Mitchell reached down, grabbed Jackson’s hand, and then helped pull his huffing and puffing friend up onto the top of the cliff.
“Just for the record, Ryan Mitchell, former US Army Ranger Captain…I hate you,” said Jackson. Rivers of sweat poured down his face as he opened his canteen and took a long deep gulp of refreshing water.
“I know, Nate, but don’t forget that we still have to get down the same way we came back up,” said Mitchell cheerfully as he took his AK off his shoulder and cradled it in his arms, ready in an instant should danger arise.
Jackson felt every spare pound on his frame. He took another long swig and made himself a promise to lose some weight once this was all over.
A breeze made its way across the plateau like an unseen river, bringing with it the smell of diesel. The rhythmic hum of generators and the glow from powerful lights danced on the horizon just over a kilometer away.
Mitchell dug a small pair of binoculars from his vest pocket and looked towards the light. He couldn’t see a thing, but his gut instincts told him that Jen was out there somewhere.
“Come on,” said Mitchell, helping his exhausted friend onto his feet.
For the next half-hour, Mitchell and Jackson cautiously approached the position. They moved stealthily, using whatever cover they could, constantly on the lookout for any sentries who might have moved away from the dig site. So far, their luck had held. They had yet to see a living soul on the ridgeline when suddenly, Jackson let out a surprised yelp as he tripped over something and came crashing to the rocky ground. Mitchell was about to tell Jackson to be more careful, when a shape rose unexpectedly from the ground. Like a ghostly specter rising from a grave, a surprised soldier took one look at Mitchell, flung down his AK, and then ran off into the night.
“Damn it, they’re always in pairs, find the other one,” snapped Mitchell at Jackson as he sprinted after the fleeing soldier. Mitchell knew that they must have stumbled upon a couple of soldiers who had decided to take a quick nap rather than do their job.
The uneven ground was strewn with rocks, but that didn’t slow Mitchell down at all. Adrenaline raced through his veins. He had to catch the soldier before he warned anyone else. The escaping soldier was fast, but not fast enough. Mitchell closed the distance to mere meters. Hearing Mitchell behind him, the soldier turned to look over his shoulder, only to strike a rock and lose his balance. Staggering like a drunk, the soldier started to tumble head over heels. Mitchell instantly dove at the man, using his weight to pin him to the ground.
Struggling to rise, the soldier found himself outmatched by Mitchell’s size and strength.
Mitchell couldn’t risk the man alerting his comrades. Balling up his right fist, he smashed it hard into the soldier’s face, knocking him out cold. Holding still for a moment to make sure they had not inadvertently alerted any other sentries, Mitchell bent down, tore several strips from the soldier’s shirt, and then quickly bound and gagged the unconscious man.
A few minutes later, with the incapacitated soldier slung over his shoulder, Mitchell returned to where he had left Jackson. Another unimpressed Mauritanian soldier lay hog-tied on the ground. Mitchell tossed his still-sleeping companion down beside him.
“I found these lying on the ground next to Sleeping Beauty,” said Jackson, holding up a pair of old looking AK-47s.
“We’ll take them with us,” said Mitchell as he looked down at the tied-up sentries. “I bet these poor sods are out here all night with no relief, and that’s why they were sleeping.”
Jackson smiled. “That means they weren’t expecting anyone to come around to check on them, either. The door is wide open. I do love sloppy soldiering.”
Mitchell turned and looked towards the dig site. “Shall we see what the hell is going on?”
“Yeah, let’s,” Jackson said, hauling the extra AKs onto his back.
Romanov’s cold, uncaring eyes stared at Jen and Mrs. March as they sat down on a bench outside the tent with a warm blanket draped around them. He had no doubt that Jen would soon deliver what she was expected to, so there was no real need to keep her mother alive anymore. He had thought about killing Jen too, but decided to keep her around a little while longer, just in case he needed her. The question was not when, but where he would have Mrs. March killed. Picking up his Motorola, Romanov called for Teplov and his daughter Nika to join him.
Mitchell slowly crawled up beside a large boulder that vaguely looked like a coyote howling at the moon, and brought his binoculars up to his eyes. Below him, he could see the brilliantly-lit dig site. He let out a low whistle as he surveyed the area. Hundreds of soldiers frantically worked away at removing the sand and rocks as fast as they could. It reminded Mitchell of an old black-and-white Hollywood film in which a Pharaoh used an army of slaves to build the pyramids. Mitchell zoomed in on several jagged pieces of the metal superstructure projecting out of the sand. It looked to him like the carcass of some large animal after the buzzards had gotten to it. Turning away, Mitchell noticed a couple of large tents near the dig; he could see well-armed mercenaries walking back and forth on guard in front of the tents. A chill descended on Mitchell; they were not Mauritanian conscripts, but well-paid mercenaries. They would be much harder to deal with than the poorly-trained soldiers guarding the outer perimeter of the site.
Jackson maneuvered his large frame in beside Mitchell. “See anything?” he asked, barely above a whisper.
Mitchell handed him the binoculars. “We’re in the right spot, all right, but things just got a whole lot more difficult,” Mitchell said as he pointed out to Jackson the well-armed mercs patrolling the inner perimeter.