A slight hesitation. “Where are you?”
“We had a unique landing in Kanzi. Rif, Peter, Brianna, and I are now enjoying the hospitality of General Ita Jemwa at his desert camp. Would be good to know who had access to the plane.”
“You need air support?” It comforted her to hear his voice. Hakan would investigate, locate the wreckage.
“The general offered to transport us to Victoria Falls in the morning. But if I don’t check in with you by eleven my time tomorrow, please send help. You can trace the GPS coordinates from the phone, right?”
“Definitely.”
“We drove around sixty miles southwest of the crash. That should help you find the plane.”
“Thanks. And text me when you arrive in Zimbabwe.”
“Will do. How’s Aegis behaving?”
“You don’t want to know. Let’s just say that my couch is looking rather unstuffed.”
She smiled. “I told you he needs intense, daily exercise to keep the digging at bay.”
“Don’t worry, I’ll have the newest recruit doing long runs with him every day now. They both need the exercise.”
She shouldn’t ask but couldn’t help herself. “Anything new on your end?”
“Always. You know how busy I’ve been. Let’s talk about it tomorrow.”
“Perfect.” Hope rose in her heart. Hakan had new information, maybe a lead.
“Send Rif my best.”
“Will do. I should thank you for insisting we travel together. He’s come in handy.”
He laughed. “My boy has his charms.”
“Let’s not go overboard. Until tomorrow.” She replaced the receiver and rested her head in her hands. The last thing she wanted to do was go to a party hosted by a sociopath, a man who could very well be holding Papa captive. After all, he’d already kidnapped one Paris and lied about it. Why not another?
And why stop at two?
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Rif sat by the fire, pretending to swig from the bottle of spirits that was being passed around the circle of men. General Jemwa’s soldiers had traded their uniforms for traditional garb, their ebony skin glistening with sweat from the fire, white paint smeared across their cheeks and bodies. Spears and shields perched on the ground beside these warriors.
After they had enjoyed a meal of rice and goat on a spit, their dancing would start. Jaramogi, the general’s second-in-command, would kick off the first performance. Rif had attended many native celebrations when he worked in Zimbabwe and Chad. Hell, he’d even admit to kicking off his shoes to join in the odd mbende step. But tonight, he needed to remain on guard.
They weren’t among friends.
Peter’s skin had deepened to a rosy pink, an indication that he was three, or maybe more like six, sheets to the wind. The CFO might be a whiz with numbers and contracts, but he had zero common sense. Stuck in the middle of the desert in a war-torn country, they were at the mercy of a dangerous man—getting drunk was a dumb-ass move. At least there’d been some good news. He’d checked on Brianna in the medical tent, and she was feeling much better.
He sensed the men’s focus shift toward the lane leading to the tents and turned to see what had captured their interest. Thea glided toward the fire in an emerald sarong, the rich color highlighting her piercing green eyes. Her long, dark hair reflected the firelight. He regretted his part in giving her the scar on her right cheek, but the mark took nothing away from her beauty. It actually made her more striking—and human.
The men studied her with great interest. He could hardly blame them. They had probably been separated from women for months while posted at the testosterone-laden camp.
She slipped in between him and Peter, sitting cross-legged on the ground.
“I spoke to Hakan. He was startled to hear where we were,” she said.
“Full circle from twenty years ago.”
“Except this time it’s Papa who has been taken. I wonder if our host is involved.”
“Anything’s possible,” he said in a low voice.
“I found a humidor in the general’s tent filled with Papa’s favorite cigars, and his office has the exact same furniture as my father’s former home office in Kanzi.”
“Definitely weird. But why kidnap the man who could make your country richer than Saudi Arabia?”