“Let’s get them inside the building,” Danny told Nuri. “Get them safe and figure out what we’re going to do.”

“They don’t want to go inside,” said Melissa.

“What?”

“Marie says they think it’s unclean. It was a slaughterhouse.”

“Tell them it’s the only safe place for them.”

“They want to go back to their homes.”

“No way,” said Danny. “There’s fighting all through the city.”

Melissa nodded and went over to talk to Bloom. The two women huddled with the patients they’d rescued from the clinic for several minutes, trying to persuade them that the building was the only safe place for them.

Danny looked at the overhead images of the city. Much of the downtown was either on fire or destroyed. There was a running gun battle in the cluster of huts at the western end of Duka. The two sides were slowly being drawn to each other, converging in the residential area. There must have been at least a hundred dead by now; he avoided asking MY-PID for an estimate.

The pregnant woman was in shock, staring blankly into the distance while clutching her baby. Melissa didn’t entirely understand what the other two women were telling Bloom—the slaughterhouse was unclean or haunted or both—but the gist of it was obvious: they weren’t going inside the building under any circumstances, including gunpoint.

“They won’t go inside,” Bloom told her. “They just won’t. It’s taboo. They want to go back to their families.”

“It’s impossible. The city’s in flames.”

Bloom argued with the women some more, but it was no use.

“They want to go back and get their families,” added Bloom. “They’re insisting.”

“They’ll be killed,” said Melissa.

“I’m trying to tell them that. I suggested a camp—they won’t even go there.”

Melissa gave up.

“I can’t get them to budge,” she told Danny. “They want to go back to their houses. Despite everything.”

“Look, we’re just going to leave them here,” he told her. “There’s a jeep heading for the building where Li Han was holed up. The Russian’s in it. We have to go.”

“All right.”

“You can stay with them if you want, but—”

“I’m not staying,” she told him. “I’ve helped them as much as I can. Now I have to take care of business.”

“Osprey will be here in two minutes.” Danny spun around. “Nuri! Take my rifle. You and Boston stay with the women. We’re going to go get the Russian at their meeting place.”

Chapter 17

Duka

The city was a bloody, Third World disaster, the two rebel groups savaging it as they tried to get at each other. There would be no winners here, only survivors who’d be left to crawl through the rubble, and probably ultimately abandon it.

Kimko hated them all, including and especially Girma, who sat behind him in the open-top jeep, AK-47 in his hands, bouncing up and down on the seat with khat-fueled excitement and adrenaline. There seemed to be no getting rid of him.

They were nearly to the warehouse when Girma leaned forward and yelled instructions to the driver. He immediately slammed on the brakes and began making a U-turn.

“Where are we going?” Kimko demanded.

“Ha-ha, we have blown up Gerard’s house,” said Girma, holding up a two-way radio. “I want to see it burn. I have heard on my radio.”

“I need to be at my meeting.”

Girma frowned. “First we see the house.”

“Damn it, Girma, I need to get there!”

Girma’s frown morphed into something more threatening. “I am in charge,” he said. “You are a salesman. We will go where I want. Then you can get your trinket.”

Kimko cursed to himself. These people were animals. Worse.

They veered through the city square where Girma had started the war the day before. The pavilion lay in a pile of rubble. The buildings on either side had been gutted by fire; there were pockmarks in the facade. Across the way, the clinic that Girma’s people had run was now destroyed; part of its front wall lay scattered along the road. But that didn’t stop the wounded from gathering there; two aides were ministering to them, overseen by a pair of fourteen- or fifteen-year-olds with Kalashnikovs.

Small fires were burning everywhere. The air smelled like burnt grass and acrid dust, mixed with cordite and the scent of burning metal. A pack of dogs ran down the street, dragging something between them.

A corpse.

They swung west, moving into a district of traditional round huts with their cone-shaped roofs. It was here that most of the tribesmen belonging to Meur-tse Meur-tskk lived. Bodies were scattered in the yards. The majority were women and children. Dead animals lay along and in the road; the driver made no effort to avoid most of them, simply speeding over the remains.

Girma, meanwhile, chewed his khat leaves.

Two men with guns stood in the street ahead, waving their arms as the jeep approached. Kimko put his hand on his holster, ready to pull the pistol out if needed.

Girma stood up, holding onto the roll bar. He raised his rifle and fired a burst in greeting.

The men ran to him, jabbering. Girma leaned forward and pointed the driver to the right.

“Too many enemies down road,” he told Kimko. “We’ll see them later. Dead.”

Chapter 18

Duka

With the Russian heading to the west of the city rather than Li Han’s house to the north, Danny decided not to commit his small force or risk the aircraft getting close to the fighting yet. He told the pilots to hold back; in the meantime he and the others would proceed to the stationmaster building and set up an ambush.

“I want to hold the Osprey off as long as I can,” he told Melissa. “It’s a straight shot for us through that field and then up the hill and over. Flash and I can get there pretty fast. Can you keep up?”

“I can keep up.”

Danny led the way at a strong trot. The circuitry in the night vision screen on his helmet could turn the dull dusk as bright as day if he wanted, but Danny found that too distracting: it looked so real that it was hard to remember it was just being synthesized by the sensors; in his opinion, that made it easier to subconsciously miss something. So he stayed with traditional night vision mode, which made it clear that he wasn’t seeing the entire picture; the difference could be critical.

When they reached a narrow dirt road on the other side of the field, Danny picked up his pace, sprinting about thirty yards to a stream that emptied into a small pond near the railroad tracks about a quarter mile away. The streambed was rocky, and he had to pick his way, glancing back every so often to check on Melissa behind him. Her breathing was labored but she was keeping pace.

“Subject jeep has stopped in residential area,” declared MY-PID.

“Why?” asked Danny.

“Insufficient data, operand uncertain,” said the Voice, getting technical on him.

“Display jeep video feed in lower screen one,” said Danny.

The image from the Global Hawk popped into the lower-left-hand side of his visor. It was grainy, magnified beyond its optimum size. Danny couldn’t make out much more than an indiscriminate crowd.

He slowed, then stopped so he could focus on the image. He was worried that Li Han was there.

“Subject identified as Milos Kimko—confirm he’s at the jeep site,” Danny told MY-PID.