Chapter 81

CHAPTER 81

IN A RUGGED outpost on the southern coast of Somalia, Cal Savage's protégé Abai picked up the call. The former Prizrak crew member listened intently as the captain outlined the mission.

With the ugliness concerning the warlord's clan behind him, Abai was firmly in command of the local militia—a band of fifty, all under twenty-five, with scores of battles under their belts. Most of them had been soldiers since before they hit puberty.

The instant the call ended, Abai walked out of his tent and surveyed his troops, scattered around the compound in small groups, cooking over propane burners and playing video games on their phones. The men—mostly boys—were already hopped up on khat, which they chewed constantly. They were always ready for action, the wilder the better.

The tiny bay at the edge of the command post was filled with military-grade rigid inflatables and Poluchat-class PT boats, recently liberated from the Somali navy. Crates lined up on the sand held automatic rifles, ammo, and RPGs.

Abai signaled to two tall brothers, Bilan and Abshir, two of his toughest fighters. The brothers knew that Abai was the man who had hung their older sibling from the rigging of a superyacht. But he had earned their loyalty by letting their father live. Also, he paid well.

Abai barked his orders in Swahili. Bilan and Abshir turned and got the rest of the boys moving. Within a few minutes, the air was filled with the roar of marine engines. The troops piled into the boats, guns and ammo belts hanging from their skinny frames. No uniforms, just an assortment of cargo shorts and T-shirts, most of them emblazoned with the logos of heavy-metal bands. Some wore long, flowing red bandanas around their foreheads. They looked like pirates, which most of them were.

As the flotilla mobilized, there were yips and shouts and random gunshots into the air. The troops were excited. Being out on the water was better than sweating in camp, and any kind of action was better than doing nothing.

Abai waded into the surf and climbed aboard one of the PT boats. He walked up to Bilan, who was behind the wheel, and ordered the boat out into the Indian Ocean. He turned and watched the rest of the flotilla spread out in formation behind him.

He directed his small flagship south toward the coastline of Tanzania, the country that stood between him and the Congo—and the two people he'd been assigned to terminate.