Finn slowed.
"Are you expecting anyone?" Seronga asked.
"Yes," Maria said.
Seronga glared at her. "Stop the truck," he said.
Finn crushed the brake. The truck stopped with effort, skidding slightly toward the passenger's side. That left Seronga staring out his open window, directly at the Jeep.
Seronga put the radio in his lap. He slid his hand beside the seat and withdrew the gun. He did not let Maria see it. Not yet.
Pavant poked his head around. "What's wrong?"
"Ahead," Seronga said.
"I see them," Pavant replied. "Do you want me to get the night-vision goggles and intercept?"
"Not yet," Seronga said. He regarded Maria. "Who are they?"
"Two of my associates," Maria replied.
"What do they want?" Seronga asked.
"They're here to help."
"To help who?" Seronga pressed. "You?"
"No. To help you and your people survive the night," she replied. Her voice was chilling in its calm prediction of disaster.
Seronga looked ahead. The Jeep remained stationary.
"How did they know we were going to be here?" Seronga demanded. "Do you have a signaling device of some kind?"
"That isn't important," Maria replied.
"It is to me," Seronga insisted.
"What matters is that there is an elite Spanish unit searching for your leader's camp," Maria told him. "These people may have news about them. I suggest we hear what they have to say."
Seronga saw Finn running his hands anxiously along the wheel.
"It's going to be all right, Njo," Seronga said.
"I'd like to get out of the truck," he said. "I need to get out."
"It will be all right, I promise," Maria assured him. "But you had best trust me quickly."
Seronga raised the gun. He let Maria see it but did not put it on her. The woman was obviously a skilled fighter. In tight quarters like this, it would be easy for her to neutralize the weapon by moving close to Seronga. He also did not want to risk firing wild.
"We'll all get out," Seronga said. "We'll go to the Jeep together. Pavant?"
"Yes?"
"Do you see anyone watching from the sides or back?" Seronga asked.
Pavant looked around. "No. There's no place to hide," he replied.
"All right. You stay where you are and cover us," Seronga said. He cracked the door and eased out. His shoes crunched on the rocky terrain. "Let's go," he said to Maria.
The woman slid out beside him. Seronga stepped back. He allowed her to walk several yards ahead. Finn jumped out on the other side. Seronga was glad the driver did not have a gun. He was a good and loyal man, but he had never been in cornbat. He had not trained extensively for it. The damn thing was, Seronga had not expected to be in combat, either. This was supposed to be a peaceful revolution. A war of ideas, not bloodshed.
The three walked toward the Jeep. Seronga did not even think to doubt what the woman had told him, either about the Spanish soldiers or that the people in the Jeep wanted to help them. It was a remarkable individual to command that kind of trust having said so little.
Finn stayed close to Seronga, behind the woman? Seronga watched for signs of movement. He wondered if the occupants of the Jeep were as cool as their comrade.
He knew he was not. Although he did not show it the same way as Njo Finn, he was afraid. Not for himself but for the cause. At the same time, he had a thought that was also new to him. It was not so much a whisper of hope but a challenge.
If the Vodun gods existed, this would be a very good time for them to make themselves known.
Chapter Fifty-Three
"Chief, we've got some weird stuff going on."
The call from Bob Herbert came while Paul Hood was checking in with the rest of the staff. There were other divisions of Op-Center that functioned independent of the core crisis management group. There was a small budget office, a human resources center, and a communications group that worked directly under Bob Herbert.
They monitored fax transmissions, cell phone calls, and satellite activities in regions where Op-Center personnel were working. Hood was lucky to have a great group of young gogetters and veterans working under him. Each learned from the others. Their briefings were always reassuring. As Bob Herbert had once put it, half joking, "They're the bedrock on which us big ol' titans do our striding." Hood was just happy to have a group that really supported him. That had been a big change from being mayor of Los Angeles. Unlike the city council and various departments in the city, everyone here was on the same page.
"What's happening?" Hood asked.
"There has been an unusual amount of radio traffic at the Air Wing of the Botswana Defense Forces," Herbert said.
"Define unusual," Hood said.
"An across-the-system jump from ten to fifteen communications an hour to more than three hundred," Herbert replied.
In the United States, that kind of increase would signify a Defcon One state of readiness.
"We've picked it up here, and the CIA noted it, too," Herbert went on. "Their frequency scanners at the embassies don't react unless there's a spike of at least one hundred percent."
"Do we know what the increased traffic is about?" Hood asked.
"Not yet," Herbert said. "The signals are all encrypted. We're collecting it and breaking it down here. Viens is trying to get us some satellite visuals of the bases. He's scraping together all the satellite time he can for us. The thing is, Jody Cameron at NAVSEA intelligence just told me they're also starting to get radar blips. One of their destroyers is picking them up from the Mozambique Channel."
NAVSEA was the Naval Sea Systems Command. The intelligence division was comprised of a worldwide deployment of cutters and destroyers. These ships were responsible for monitoring land and sea activities inaccessible by U. S. or allied bases. The intelligence collected by these ships determined whether vessels of the Maritime Preposition Force needed to be sent to a region. These were ships that provided military support prior to the arrival of main expeditionary warfare ships. The ships that patrolled the Mozambique Channel were responsible for covering the region from South Africa to Somalia.
"What did the blips suggest?" Hood asked.
"Chopper traffic," Herbert replied. "More than they've ever seen in the region."
"Are they doing search grids or heading somewhere?" Hood asked.
"The helicopters are heading north from the airfield outside Gaborone," Herbert said. "NAVSEA is saying this is either an action or a drill."
"We've got to assume it's not a drill," Hood said.
"Of course," Herbert said. "Hold on-Matt Stoll's shooting me some of the data from the encrypted transmissions."
There was a short silence that felt very, very long.
"Shit," Herbert said. "Son of a bitch."
"What is it?" Hood demanded.
"They've got a destination," Herbert said. "Okavango Swamp."
"Damn," Hood said.
"They also say it was Edgar Kline who gave them that destination," Herbert added.
"How the hell could Kline have given them a target?" Hood asked. "We didn't know it ourselves."
"I don't know," Herbert admitted.
It had been more than an hour since Hood had called Kline on his cell phone and given him the location for the rendezvous between Op-Center's teams and the soldiers from the Unidad Especial del Despliegue. And there was no way the Vatican Security Office could have extrapolated Dhamballa's location from what Hood told him. Op-Center did not even know for sure where the Vodunists were based.
"Get him on the phone," Hood said.
"With pleasure," Herbert said angrily.