Mamadou squeezed her ankle. He’d been a trouper, crawling through the narrow shafts without a whisper of complaint. She wiggled her foot in response to his touch and concentrated on opening the vent. The upper-left corner was loose. She pushed her head against the grille and scanned right and left. No one around.
Time for a little yoga. Lying on her belly in the cramped space, she lifted herself into a plank position, then brought her legs forward underneath her while arching her back. Her feet ultimately faced the vent.
Drawing her knees to her chest, she uncoiled her legs and pummeled the upper left of the grille with both feet. The metal fought to stay attached. She coiled her legs again and hammered once more at the grille. It finally slid down, hanging by only one screw.
Good enough.
She peered out the opening. A few dead soldiers were sprawled near the building, but otherwise no one was around. She would’ve thought the place would be crawling with sentries.
But the danger wasn’t over. Gunshots rang out on the east side of the hotel. She dropped her bag and rifle, then eased her legs out of the vent, perched bent over in a sitting position. She dropped ten feet to the ground and rolled to absorb the impact. She grabbed the AK and scanned for the enemy.
All clear.
Mamadou Kimweri’s head poked out of the shaft. She waved for him to come down. His eyebrows raised a fraction. He didn’t have the flexibility to turn his long body inside the vent. Instead, he snaked his right arm up, grabbing the lip of the terrace above and pulling himself out of the shaft, shimmying his lower body and feet out of the air duct. He hung there for a few seconds, then fell to the earth.
She held her breath. The man had to be pushing seventy-five. Would his bones be able to handle the fall?
His feet connected with the ground. He dropped and rolled onto his right shoulder, tumbling over before coming to rest. She hurried across to check on him.
A smile greeted her. “Help this old man up, would you?”
“Well done.” She offered him a hand.
The familiar crackle of automatic weapons fire spurred her into action. The relative safety of the jungle rested on the other side of a hundred-foot clearing. It’d be risky, but they had to chance it.
They crouched beside the hotel wall. “Run in a zigzag pattern to the trees. I’ll be right behind you. If I’m shot, hide in the forest and call for help.” She handed him her satphone. “Got it?”
His wizened face wrinkled. “Your father was right.”
“How’s that?”
“He told me that you were the bravest person he knew.”
She grinned. “Well, let’s go before I have a chance to prove him wrong.” She gripped the assault rifle tightly, hoping for a little luck.
As she’d instructed, Mamadou loped across the clearing like a drunken gazelle. She followed, turned slightly so she could scan for soldiers. An overwhelming fatigue was beginning to weigh her down. She could almost feel her blood sugar rising now. Just a little farther.
Commotion sounded nearby. A loud yell. Two of the general’s soldiers had rounded the corner. She’d been spotted. Bullets whizzed past her ear. She fired a volley of shots to provide cover. A muzzle flashed. Mamadou had almost made it to the jungle. She kept firing until she ran out of ammo. The prime minister disappeared into the foliage.
She sprinted straight into a tangled mass of bushes. Branches scratched at her face, and thorns clawed at her arms. Gasping, she slowed her pace, searching for Mamadou.
She stopped cold. A soldier in full camo and face paint had his hand clamped on the prime minister’s mouth, an arm coiled around his body.
“Good to see you, Thea.”
Johansson. She almost collapsed in relief. “About time you showed up.”
“Hello to you too. By the way, you’re officially godmother to my son.”
“Congrats. Champagne later.”
Jo removed his hand from Mamadou’s mouth. “Sorry, mate, just wanted to make sure you didn’t scream. Thea has lightning reflexes, and I didn’t want another hole in my shoulder.”
Leave it to Jo to joke around at a time like this. “Please take Prime Minister Kimweri to safety. Where’s the team?”
“They’re trying to save Rif’s sorry ass. He’s somewhere inside the hotel. You coming with us?”
“No, I have to handle something else first.”
“You don’t look so good.”
“Just need some rest.” And some insulin.
“Take this for good measure.” Jo passed her a Glock.
Mamadou squeezed her hand. “Don’t do any more jumps without me.”
She smiled. “You’re pretty tough for a prime minister.”
“Once a bush boy, always a bush boy.”
“You’re in excellent hands now. Jo will get you back to Kanzi.”
“Thank you, Thea. I wouldn’t be alive without you.”
“See you soon.”
Looping around the main building, she searched for a way back into the conference space. Ominous black smoke rose from the eastern side of the hotel.
Chapter Seventy-One
Gabrielle ran down the main hotel stairs, her feet padding on the carpeted steps. On the landing, she came face-to-face with a rebel. He froze for a millisecond, a fatal mistake. She fired two quick shots into his chest.