Page 64 of The Woman Left Behind

Ah, shit.He needed to get his head off this dead-end path and back on the job.

He ducked through the curtain and back outside, though “inside” was a loose description to use for a structure that was mostly in ruins. “Lead the way,” he said briefly to Yasser. Yasser pulled a fold of his headdress across his nose and mouth, to filter out the dust blown by the hot wind. Levi and the rest of the team pulled their balaclavas up over the lower halves of their faces, for the same reason. With their NVDs in place, their faces were almost wholly obscured.

The direction Yasser chose was north-northeast, toward rougher terrain, but that was a logical position for the informer because it offered more concealment. A mile there, make contact, a mile back; Babe would be alone for no more than forty-five minutes if everything went smoothly, but there were no guarantees. Shit happening was such a given that Levi planned for it. The only unknown was what shape the shit would take.

Jina took Tweety in slow circles around the fanned-out line of men, looking in all directions. She spotted a gazelle once, standing motionless and watching the humans pass by. She’d done her homework, knew there were gazelles and jackals and other mammals in the desert. There were also, surprisingly, scraggly shrubs and small trees, rock piles, jagged and barren mountains, and lots of flat space. Bedouins roamed the region, though in the heat of July it made sense that they were likely closer to water sources than they would be during the winter months.

She wouldn’t mind a little winter right now—or even a water source she could be close to. Sweat was dripping off her. But which was worse, cold misery or hot misery? Hot misery, she decided, because she felt as if she could barely breathe. The hot wind kept the dust and sand stirred up, getting in every crevice, making her eyes and mouth feel gritty, her nose clogged. None of it was a happy feeling.

She watched the screen, controlling Tweety with both keystrokes to bring up his various cameras, and the mini roller-ball mouse that ruled the drone’s movements, which she had attached to the laptop. Her communications headset was in place, earbud and throat mic, her NVD, equipment and gear bags, pistol, and jump helmet right beside her, so she could grab and go if necessary.

For the most part the guys were silent, communicating by gesture or low-pitched comments when necessary. She too was quiet, because she had nothing to report. Idle chatter was distracting.

She heard Mamoon enter the outer part of the ruin, moving around, singing a little under his breath. He’d been outside for a while, which suited her fine. If he was like most kids, her solitude back here wouldn’t last long, because his curiosity would get the better of him.

No sooner had she had the thought than the black curtain moved, and he slid behind it to join her in the small room.

He stared at her in shock. “You are a woman!”

She nodded, maintaining communications silence, keeping an eye on the screen. She feathered the roller ball, turning Tweety in a slow circle.

“You travel with men?”

His tone was scandalized. Jina clicked off her communications mic and indicated the pistol by her hand, though she kept watching the screen. “I’m armed,” she said briefly. “They leave me alone.” There was no point in getting into any long discussion about anything, just let him know how such a thing was possible, then get back to her job. She clicked the mic back on.

He watched her for a minute, her nimble hands in the fingerless black gloves moving over the keys, “fuzzing” the track ball in minute adjustments. He looked at the screen, tilted his head a little, watched the view change as she surveyed the surroundings. The thermal imaging picked up a very small signature and she zeroed in, enlarged, found some kind of weird rodent going about its ratty business. It looked like a mash-up of rabbit, rat, and kangaroo. Backing out again, she resumed her area surveillance.

Mamoon gasped as the line of men came on-screen. “How are you doing this?”

Crap. She wished he’d shut up and let her do her job. She clicked off the mic again. “I have a flying camera I’m controlling.”

His eyes got big, and he looked back at the screen. “You saw the jerboa!”

“The rat? Yes, the camera is very sensitive.” Mic back on. She moved Tweety to the other side of the team, searching, watching.

She tried not to sound as impatient as she felt, just keep it businesslike, but the kid must have picked up on something in her tone because abruptly he darted back through the curtain and left her alone. Maybe he remembered something he was supposed to be doing. Maybe he was going to get something. Definitely he was a kid, so who knew? She was just glad he was gone, so she could concentrate.

Checking the time, she saw that the men had been moving for twelve minutes; they should be getting close to where the informant was hiding. She wondered if there were any caves. There were jagged and rocky mountains and such, so logically there had to be caves. It was time to take Tweety farther in advance, see what he could see.

Mamoon had gone outside the ruin. She could hear a faint thunking sound to the left, as if he were fooling around the truck, maybe getting inside it and pretending to drive. Could be he already knew how to drive. Maybe he was getting in it to take a nap, out of the blowing sand, though she thought the interior of the truck would be too hot for comfort.

She focused on Tweety, taking the little drone ahead, looking for the heat signature of the informant.

She heard something else outside—a voice. A man’s voice, hushed, too indistinct for her to make out words. At first she couldn’t tell if she was hearing it in her earbud, or in her uncovered right ear. She frowned, concentrated, listened.

Then she heard Mamoon’s lighter tones, as hushed as the other.

Someone was out there, someone they hadn’t expected. Had Mamoon heard him, gone out to deflect attention?

No. It was the middle of the night, and they were in the freaking desert. People didn’t just wander around and visit, especially not a ruin where no one was likely to be anyway. Whoever was there wasn’t there by accident.

Alarm tingled her spine. She started to let the team know she had company when Tweety’s cameras picked up a thermal signature, a man-sized one. Then another. Then another, and more, easily ten or fifteen, concealed on either side of the route the team would take. She forgot about the threat outside the ruin, focusing entirely on her guys.

“Ambush! Ambush—” she said urgently.

There was no time for anything else. As she got the second word out a thunderous explosion sent rock and dust flying through the ruin, the percussion knocking her to the right. Her head and right elbow banged painfully against the wall and she went down in a heap, with debris raining down on her.

Coughing violently, dazed, she nevertheless did what her training had taught her to do and pushed the debris away, immediately scrambled back to her feet. The darkness was absolute, the computer screen gone black.

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