Mike Maden - River of Gods

“So it’s your opinion that the United States needs to act on this matter? To secure what you term ‘REEs’?”

“What I’m saying is this. There’s no question that the American people are tired of war, but the American people are also very practical. As you suggested, Howard, most Americans simply aren’t aware of what’s going on in Africa, and I’ve decided to sound the alarm—even if it costs me an election. That’s what real leadership is all about. But President Greyhill seems to be more interested in winning an election than in protecting the interests of the American people. I just hope it’s not too late to act before then. And if I might quote President Myers, all it takes for evil to thrive is for good people to do nothing.”

“Interesting,” Finch said before turning to the camera. “We’ll be back after these messages.”

Fiero glanced over Finch’s shoulder. Fowler was standing by camera number two. He had a thin smile on his face, and he nodded his approval, adding a wink as an exclamation point.

A home run, in Harry Fowler–speak.

She just wished she could see Greyhill’s face when he finally watched the tape. It was her first shot fired in anger, and she’d aimed it right at Greyhill’s nut sack.

Adrar Province

Southwestern Algeria

10 May

The sand in front of them was mostly flat, dotted with the occasional juniper bush. Pearce had no idea how those plants could possibly thrive out here, but there they were. Just like the Tuaregs, he supposed. These nomads had managed to survive out here for two thousand years as well, despite the heat and seeming lack of water. Thrive, in fact, trading in spices, salt, gold, and slaves, purchased or stolen between empires.

Taking his cue from the Tuaregs, Pearce had pulled off his combat boots. Not only was this cooler, but now it was his soft feet resting on the camel’s neck rather than the hard soles. No point in making the camel suffer.

After an hour in the wooden saddle, his backside was already getting sore even with the cloth padding added. It didn’t bother him too much. Saddle sore was a rite of passage where he grew up. The soreness was even a kind of comfort. Not everything about his childhood had been miserable. Life in the mountains working for his dad’s failing sawmill was always hard, but a whole lot better than growing up in a slum or refugee camp. There were days he missed Big Sky Country. But today wasn’t one of them.

The ride on the one-humped camel was remarkably comfortable, better than on most horses he’d ridden over long distances. Maybe it was the soft sand, too, and their big padded feet. They hardly seemed to leave an impression. The camel’s gait was long and graceful, like a slow-drifting creek. The effect was hypnotic. Their elongated shadows rode just ahead of them and to the right, gliding across the sand. Pearce had let the rope rein drop from his hand. His camel was so docile that it followed the animal in front without any guidance from the loop of rope tied around its lower jaw.

What struck him most about the journey now was the utter silence, save for the swishing sound of the camel’s soft pads on the sand. If he hadn’t heard that he might have thought he’d gone deaf. As a Westerner, he was accustomed to the constant bombardment of big-city noise, as true in the Third World these days as anywhere. This was a welcome respite. But soon he found himself battling his demons again. “Like a house swept clean,” the silence soon gave way to bad memories. Memories he’d tried to bury, but always returned. Johnny Paloma, especially. He nudged his camel on, even managing to get him to pick up speed. Caught up with Early’s.

“How’s the arm?” Pearce asked.

“This? Fine. In fact—” Early slipped the sling off, tossed it in the sand. He flexed his arm, grimacing a little. “Feels good.”

“How about your head wound?”

“Head wound? There’s nothing wrong with my head.”

“Really? Then why in God’s name are you out here instead of at home with Kate and the kids?”

Early’s handsome face darkened.

“Last time I saw you was on a Facebook post in Santorini with the family,” Pearce added. “You look better without a beard and the olive-drab bandage wrapped around your noggin, too, by the way.”

“Santorini. Yeah, that was a great trip,” Early finally said. “We always have great trips.”

“So?”

“You know how it is. Kind of hard to ride the bench once you’ve played in the game.”

“An adrenaline junkie? Fine, I get it. So take up hang gliding.”

“Not the same. Besides, hang gliding doesn’t pay as well.”

“You don’t need any money. Kate’s dad is loaded.”

“I’m no freeloader. And after the Myers thing, well, let’s just say I wasn’t getting a lot of offers. The K Street cats want access, and I was persona non grata on the Hill, even with the blanket immunity.”

“And Kate’s okay with this?” Pearce pointed at the wilderness. “Shouldn’t you be coaching a Little League team or cutting the grass?”

“This was supposed to be temporary. Then I was promised a replacement.”

“But Cella’s father never found one?”

“Sure he did. Problem is, I found him, too. With his throat cut ear to ear, bled out in the sand a half mile east of Timbuktu. I called it in. ‘Another guy’s on the way,’ he said. Until then, I sit tight. At twice my rate, too. That buys a lot of Little League uniforms.”

Pearce thought about that. “You’re worth it. Cella’s lucky to have you.”

Early laughed. “Tell her that. She wants me gone so bad she can taste it.”

“What’s the story with her?”

Early eyed him. “You tell me, partner. You have a longer history with her than I do.”

“What did she tell you?”

“Nothing. Which tells me a whole lot.”

“Her dad has always had someone around to protect her. I’m just surprised it’s you, that’s all.”

“It was a gig. I took it. I’m home as soon as I can get there.”

“I’m flying out in five days. Come with. Trust me, Cella will be fine. Especially with Mossa and his men around.”

“You sure? The noose is tightening around his neck, in case you haven’t noticed. That’s why she sent her kid away.”

“What kind of mother does that?”

“The kind that loves her kid.”

“Then why didn’t she go with her?”

“If you know Cella, you know how fierce she is. She’s devoted to the old man.”

“How did she ever decide to raise a family out here? You’d think she’d move back to Italy just for the sake of her daughter.”

“She’s a complicated lady. You’d have to ask her.”

“That means the noose is tightening around your neck, too, you know.”

“I got a big neck. Stiff one, too.”

“Seriously. You might not walk away from this one.”

“Can’t help that. I’ve been hired to do a job. I’m going to see it through. So would you, if you were me. I think.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Unlike me, a handsome Army Ranger on a grand adventure in the Sahara, you look like a steaming turd recent shat out of a cat’s anus, a dim shadow of the CIA stud I used to know. What the hell happened to you?”

“After the Myers thing, I kinda lost it. Did some shit I probably shouldn’t have done, but had to. You know how it is. “

“Yeah, I do.”

Words like “duty,” “honor,” and “loyalty” were more than just slogans for men like Pearce and Early. Early heard rumors that Pearce had gotten his revenge on the Russian responsible for the death of Myers’s son.