Mark Greaney - On target

Court wanted to reach across the table and slap the insincerity off his face.

After a few seconds Ellen said, "That plane of yours is awesome. It's an Ilyushin, isn't it? Looks like some we have in our inventory." Quickly she added, "I ship a lot of cargo in my job, though I've never actually been in a cargo plane."

"It is an Ilyushin. An excellent Russian aircraft," said Gennady, and Walsh nodded along with him, seeming to fawn all over his words.

"Here is some pilot trivia for you," Ellen said with an excited smile. "Did you know Amelia Earhart landed here at Al Fashir on her attempt to circle the globe?"

Gennady cocked his head a little. "Who?"

"Amelia Earhart. The female pilot? The famous female pilot who disappeared flying around the world in 1937."

Gennady just looked at her.

"Surely you have heard-"

"I have never heard of this woman, but I am not surprised she disappeared. Women do not make good pilots," he said, as if this were the most basic fact of aeronautics. A dismissive wave of his hand and a loud slurp of tea followed his comment. Court caught the woman dropping her veil of admiration for the Russian man and revealing her true feelings of disgust.

But the veil rose again almost instantly.

"Well, I've heard great things about Russian aircraft. And the Ilyushin. Our UN planes do the job, but they are a bit boring. Do you think I could possibly get a closer look at your beautiful plane? Don't worry, I won't try to fly it. I'd probably just disappear."

Her smile was wide, friendly, and, Court recognized, a total sham.

Gennady just smiled back at her a long time without answering. He gave his shoulders a shrug, but it was a shrug that indicated anything was possible.

Some of the other Russians asked her questions in broken English. If she was married-no. Where she was from-Vancouver. How long she'd been in the Sudan-a month. Court saw no deception in any of the answers she gave. But he did notice her looking at him, perhaps picking up on his scrutiny of her, and this caused Gentry to look away again.

They are all buying it except the darker one. He is suspicious. He knows I am full of shit.

Ellen tried to give a big smile to the man at the end of the table, but he turned away, bored. Unlike the rest of the crew, he did not leer at her. No, other than his earlier comment to Gennady, he had not been a part of the conversation, but it was clear to her he was listening. Either he understood her perfectly or he was struggling to do so.

But more important than the quiet man at the end of the table was the big airplane at the end of the taxiway. She just had to get a closer look at it, take a picture or two, somehow get some more intelligence on this flight into the heart of north Darfur. She wondered if even now the GOS army was taking the cargo off the plane.

"Will you have to unload your airplane yourself, or do you have someone from the oil company to do it?"

"The Sudanese will do it," said Gennady, and immediately followed with, "It will be an hour more, at least. My men will go back and help them, but I can stay with you and enjoy another tea." He smiled, she smiled, and the quiet man at the end of the table looked to his pilot. He spoke to him in Russian; Ellen did not understand a word.

"I don't trust her. Too many questions," Court said it in Russian and was totally unconcerned that the woman would recognize his distrust from his tone.

Gennady looked away from the woman and towards Gentry. His reply in Russian, as well. "I don't need to trust her. I am not going to marry her. I'm going to fuck her. She'd look okay with a bath and some makeup."

Court sighed. "We leave in two hours."

"I don't mean now, although that is plenty of time. I mean on my next trip to Khartoum. I am setting the table right now. When I next go to Khartoum, I will eat my meal."

Ellen followed the conversation around the table with her eyes. Obviously she did not understand.

Court sighed again. He thought about dropping Sidorenko's name. This would likely terrify Gennady into complying with his unauthorized passenger. But he did not. "Let's just get our food and return to the plane."

"That is a good idea. You and the boys leave me and Miss Canada alone." Gennady laughed heartily, as did the other men.

Court just looked away, angry but controlling his anger.

"Why do I get the feeling you are talking about me?" Ellen Walsh asked with a smile.

Court stood without a word and began heading back to the aircraft. He wouldn't wait for his food. He'd just eat the dry rations in his bag.

Gentry stopped again in the restroom. He washed his face slowly to calm himself. He decided to pop some hydrocodone when he got back to his backpack; it would help him relax on the flight back to Belarus, and it couldn't hurt anything; he wouldn't be operational again for a few days.

But first he had to watch out for this Canadian woman. Personally, he was all for someone taking note of what the Russians were doing here, calling a newspaper, an international organization, blowing the lid off of the sanctions violations. But just not right now. Court would need this shady arrangement to continue at least until his operation was complete. A Westerner making trouble for the Rosoboronexport flights, thereby throwing a wrench into his means of insertion into the Sudan, absolutely could not be tolerated.

He'd just turned the spigot off and dried his hands on his coveralls when the navigator entered behind him. He nodded to the American and said, "Gennady is taking the girl to show her the plane." Court could tell the navigator was not crazy about the idea, but the Russian just shrugged good-naturedly about it. "Vlady and I have a bet. I think he's going to do her in the cockpit, Vlady says Gennady's going to get his face slapped. You want in on the bet, friend?"

Unlike the navigator, Gentry had no intention of taking the pilot's obscene breach of operational security in stride. He stormed past the thick man and out into the concourse. He saw the woman and Gennady walking towards the stairwell to the side exit, she with her backpack on her shoulder, he with his plate of food in his hand.

"For God's sake," Court said softly. He thought about grabbing Gennady by his mop of red hair, dragging him into a corner, and telling him he was going to call the Saint Petersburg mob, who had set up his mission in the first place. One call from Court, and Sid would have Gennady's family thrown into a van in half an hour flat. Gennady would do what he was told if only Gentry dropped Sidorenko's name.

Then Court saw the airport security officials, standing around bored behind a high counter.

Yes, this was the best option. He could impress upon the Sudanese that this UN do-gooder was hassling the secret flight of Russian armaments.

It would make trouble for the woman, no question about it, but only until he and the Russians got into the air. If she and her curiosity could just be held in check until wheels up, Court could be on his way and get this wasted day behind him.

Court's operational security would remain in place, the woman from the UN would learn nothing that would impede this flight or his next flight in three days' time, and the Russian aircrew would not learn anything they did not need to know about Gentry and his employers.

"English?" Court asked the bored young airport security policeman. The African shook his head, as did the man next to him.

"Francais?" Again, a shake of both heads.

"Okay," said Court in English, before reluctantly switching to Arabic. "Asalaam Alaykum."

"Wa Alaykum as-Salaam," came the polite but officious-sounding reply from both men.

Court continued in Arabic. "I must speak to your superior."