The Freedom Broker (Thea Paris #1)(52)
The kids scrambled away, chasing each other around the Land Cruiser.
“You’ve certainly grown up.” A faint smile lingered at the edges of the General’s mouth. He proffered a meaty hand. “After all these years, we meet again.”
Nikos hesitated for a second, then accepted the handshake. The General turned his palm downward, trying to maintain control. Nikos turned it back, reclaiming the dominant role. Just as he’d expected, the soldier wasn’t interested in relinquishing his supremacy. That made him useful, at least for a while.
“The troops are in a strict training regimen in case they’re needed.”
“Excellent.” If the oil negotiations didn’t end well, they were poised for a coup to overthrow Kanzi’s administration.
“I read about your father’s kidnapping in the papers. Christos is now under lock and key?” A gleam in the General’s eyes unsettled Nikos, but he didn’t want to read too much into it. Why would the giant be involved in Christos’s kidnapping? Why would he undermine Nikos’s arrangements and risk the enormous wealth and influence he’d gain by working with Nikos—unless he had another endgame in mind?
“We’re moving forward as planned.” Nikos’s stomach felt unsettled.
“Within a few days, Kanzi and all its oil wealth will be ours.” The General smiled.
No, mine. All mine.
A familiar bang reverberated through the camp. Nikos looked around, searching for the source. One of the grandsons had discovered a guard’s AK-47 lying on the rear seat of the Land Cruiser. The boy’s small hands held the rifle, and he pointed the barrel straight at them, a thousand-watt smile on his face.
The giant’s eyes widened. Fear. Not for himself, but for his grandson. The skinny youngster holding the rifle triggered Nikos’s memory. He’d been no older than this boy when he’d used a Kalashnikov to kill on Oba’s command.
Nikos strode over and squatted beside the child. He gently released the kid’s tiny fingers from the weapon. “Zuri mtoto, baya ridhe.” Good boy, bad gun.
The boy giggled and ran after his brother, not realizing the danger they’d all been in. Innocence needed to be protected at any cost. That was why he funneled money from his arms deals into helping children in need. In their formative years, kids’ psyches were established, and they became who they’d be for the rest of their lives. Every child deserved a chance at happiness, but many youngsters never had a hope in hell.
He touched the pocket where he kept the music box and glanced at the General, a look of understanding passing between them. Unlike Oba, the giant agreed with him that children should never be involved in war.
Chapter Thirty-Five
Sweat soaked Thea’s cotton shirt. The relentless sun punished any exposed skin. The temperatures soared above 120 degrees, waves of heat rising from the desert floor. Trying to escape the unforgiving conditions, their small group huddled under an Apache-style kowa that Rif had created from nearby brush. Even with the shelter, the cruel rays reflected hotly off the sand.
Nothing had survived the massive explosion, leaving them with only the clothes on their backs. Because of her illness, Thea always kept two days’ worth of insulin in the special insulated container Papa had given her, which was in her cargo pants. She also had a few protein bars stashed in her pockets. She’d already rationed out pieces of the first bar to everyone but was saving the others until later, since they had no idea how long they would be stuck out here. She was concerned. Diabetes impaired one’s ability to sweat, and sweating was the body’s way of cooling down. And when the thermometer on her insulin clocked in at eighty-six degrees Fahrenheit, it could render her medication useless.
Heat was not her friend.
She thought back to her survival training and the powerful rule of three, which could help prioritize your actions in an emergency. Three seconds without hope, three minutes without air, three hours in punishing temperature extremes without adequate shelter, three days without water, and three weeks without food—any one of them led to death.
They had the hope, air, and shelter covered, but they’d had nothing to drink for the last five hours, and dehydration was making her dizzy and weak. Searching for help in the desert would be reckless, likely fatal. Miles of endless sand dunes stretched across the bleak horizon in all directions. The safest plan was to wait for rescue. Waiting was an activity in which she usually excelled, but her and her current companions’ lives weren’t the only ones at stake. Every hour ticking by was an hour Papa might not have left to spare.
She had her phone and her father’s cell, but there was no reception in the desert. Her satphone and SINK bag had blown up with the plane. Fortunately, Rif had radioed in the distress call during their emergency landing, so Kanzi officials should be looking for them. Smoke from the burning plane would be easily spotted by anyone searching the desert, but would their little group last long enough to be rescued?
Brianna’s face was beet red; her body trembled. Rif crouched beside the flight attendant, comforting her. “Help is coming soon—hang in there.”
“Look, I see water. I need a drink.” Her eyes were unfocused, her lips dry. She pointed to the horizon and tried to stand. Rif gently pulled her back into the shade.
Thea glanced to the west. An inferior mirage floated in the distance—it appeared to be a lake. Too bad it wasn’t real. “Don’t worry, we’ll get you some water soon.”