After settling in and checking their rifles, they opened MREs and ate. Lange laughed. “You Yanks certainly know how to do field rations. The South African Army’s rations are a bit less elegant.”
“Were you in the military?” Stone asked.
“Ja. Of course. I still hold a captain’s rank.”
“My God! What’s that?” Sandra said. An ugly piglike creature scrambled out of the brush, stopped when it saw them, then ran off.
“That’s a bushpig. You see a lot of them now that the leopard population is down.” Lange threw a rock in the bush where the animal had emerged, and a minute later three piglets scurried out and followed their mother. “No worry unless she thinks you’ll harm the kids.” He looked around. “Just be on the lookout for snakes. Some bad ones about here, I’ll wager.”
“I don’t especially care for snakes.” Stone eyed the nearby thornbushes. “Let’s set up a watch schedule on the boxcar. I’ll take the first one. How about an hour at a time?”
Stone positioned himself on top of a rise behind grasses where he could use his binoculars. He spent the first few minutes scanning the horizon, pausing on the hamlet’s buildings. Two figures, a man and woman, sat on a bench in front of what appeared to be the general store. From the looks of his shorts and her sundress, they appeared to be locals. A pickup truck passed them and they waved. Focused back on the boxcar, only an occasional bird broke the stillness. The smell of dry grass and brush drifted in with the intermittent breeze.
Stone kept up his visual routine while going through a mental checklist of things to do after his watch: recheck his rifle, make sure all magazines were loaded with .308 cartridges, check his Sig Sauer. He had to sharpen his knife. Also, check his radio. Odd. Frederick hasn’t checked in with us.
Having gone over the checklist twice, his mind wandered to the place he’d avoided since he left Cape Town. His renewed relationship with Contessa Lucinda.
Three months ago she had made it clear that she never wanted to see him again. Now, she flies down from the French Riviera and arranges with Patience, of all people, to reunite with him. What was he missing?
What resembled a hat or a head moved in the grass a hundred yards away from the boxcar. Stone wasn’t certain. He called to Lange and Sandra, who dropped on the ground next to him.
They remained still for a few moments. “Could have been an animal. It’s late afternoon. They start moving this time of day,” Lange said. “I’ll take over the watch.”
Sandra followed Stone down the slope to their campsite. The two sat with their backs against the motorcycles. She remarked that when the sun went down it would get really dark. “Pitch black.”
“Ah, but we got a moon tonight, kid. Almost a full moon.”
Stone’s phone buzzed and he saw Frederick’s number displayed on the screen. “Stone here. What’s up?”
Colonel Frederick advised that personnel and equipment had arrived at the staging area. “We’re waiting for Department of Energy people to arrive. When they do, we’ll bring in two C-130s. That’ll provide some entertainment for the local folks.”
“What about our competition? Pick up any traffic on what they’re up to?”
“Why ask me? That’s your job to keep track of them. Our reports indicate they’re on the ground there.”
Stone looked at Sandra and mouthed a curse. Colonel Frederick could be a pain in the ass at times. Especially when he was right. “A plane is parked off the dirt runway. We saw a couple of men walking around it. Probably our bad guys. They appear to be waiting for something or someone. No activity at the boxcar.”
“That’s the runway we’re landing on. You saw only two men?”
“Thought you’d known that. Has the satellite spotted any others?”
“No. Keep me posted.” After a pause, he asked, “No activity around the boxcar. Right?”
“Affirmative.”
“I’ll get back to you with any updates.” The line went dead.
Sandra moved closer. “What’s wrong?”
“Let’s join Lange.”
Again lying prone next to each other, they searched the surrounding area with binoculars as Stone gave Lange the gist of the conversation with Frederick. While talking, they now observed four bearded men in dark pants and jackets walking around the parked airplane.
“What’s your take on the situation, Hayden?” Sandra asked.
“I think Colonel Frederick thinks we’re behind the curve. Van Wartt is about to hand over the bomb in that boxcar to Wahab and his buddies. Frederick’s worried he’s not going to get here in time.”
“So where does that leave us?” Lange asked.
“That leaves us hanging.”
They lay silent for a time, continuing to scope their targets. A light breeze rustled the grasses and bushes around them. Stone broke the silence. “I’m going to take a look inside that boxcar.”
“No. Hayden,” Sandra said.
“They may have already taken the bomb to the landing strip.” Stone rubbed his eyes. “We’ve got to know if it’s still there.”
“Think it over,” Lange said.
“We’ll leave the bikes here,” Stone said. “You two cover me.”
Sandra and Lange made sure their weapons were loaded. All three began crouching toward the railcar.
Sandra and Lange held back a few yards behind Stone. Their task was to provide cover. The three would communicate using their radios. At the spot where Sandra and Lange would station themselves, Stone paused for a couple of minutes.
The sun dropped fast and long shadows streaked the landscape. All appeared calm.
As Stone signaled he was advancing, Lange whispered over the air, “It’s too quiet. No animals. No birds.”
Stone hesitated. Lange was a hunter. He knew this land. Again in the fast-dimming light, he scoped the boxcar with his binoculars. The side door was open about two inches. Back at the original site, he had been too far away to detect this.
“Shit. Door’s open. We may have an empty boxcar,” Stone said to his companions.
He moved fast in a crab-like fashion toward the clearing that circled the railcar. Once he reached the open ground surrounding the boxcar, he stopped.
Still no movement. He raised his rifle to ready position, stood, and raced forward.
He slid to a stop, hitting his back against the boxcar. Rifle raised, he searched the surrounding bush over the gun sight.
Inching toward the open door, and without looking, he pushed open the door with his left hand.
As he did, from the open door the hard barrel of a pistol jammed the back of his head.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Two of Nabeel Asuty’s men jumped out of the boxcar and threw Stone to the ground. They bound his arms behind his back with duct tape. Kneeling on one knee at the open door of the boxcar, Asuty waved his AK-47 in the direction where Sandra and Dirk Lange lay hidden in the underbrush.
“Come out with your guns lowered,” Asuty shouted, “or Stone is a dead man.”
As Stone lay pinned to the ground, he knew odds were he was already a dead man. Before the tape could be placed over his mouth, he managed to yell, “Stay there. Open fire.” Stone knew the Browning rifles with telescopic scopes Sandra and Lange carried could easily take out Asuty.
Both Sandra and Lange opened fire. Thuds came from bullets penetrating the wooden side of the boxcar. Asuty leaped from the boxcar, rushed over to Stone, and had his men yank him up by his hair. He held the AK-47’s barrel under Stone’s chin.
“Surrender and Mr. Stone just might live,” Asuty shouted in a panic. “If you don’t, I kill him.”
Stone’s companions continued firing, and then the skull of the man on his left exploded from one of their shots. Bone and blood splattered on Stone.