tone of excitement in his voice. “This will be . . . dangerous for you.”
“You are worried about my well-being?”
“Of course. I . . . I just want to do what I can to help.”
“Anything else?”
“I had a man who was going to take you by car from Khartoum to Suakin. If you proceed as you suggest, you will have to cross territory all alone and on foot. You don’t look like a Sudanese tribesman.”
“There is a tribe of lighter-skinned Arabs in the area. The Rashaidas. I won’t be able to pull it off up close, but with a head wrap and local clothing, someone seeing me driving by in a car or walking across a field is going to peg me for a Rashaida before he pegs me for a white boy.”
“You are willing to bet your life on that?”
The assassin answered nonchalantly, “This is what I do.”
Sidorenko replied breathlessly, “You are amazing.”
There was a long pause on the line. Sid thought the American was going to respond to his comment, but instead he said, “The plan remains in effect. After I’m on the ground, no contact until the job is done.”
“Da. But the man who was going to take you to Suakin. He is a police officer there in the city of Suakin. He is an occasional informant for the FSB. He may be able to provide you with intelligence that will be helpful. I can arrange a meeting.”
Court thought it over. As far as Sid’s op was concerned, he didn’t really need a police informant. But for Zack’s job? Nocturne Sapphire could absolutely stand for one more source of intel about the layout of forces in the area.
“Agreed.”
Sid said, “Mr. Gray, please remember. I have women here for you. Many beautiful women. Leave the ones you find in the desert in the desert; when you come back, you will never go wanting for women again!”
Court sighed. “Why didn’t I think of that?”
Court leaned his head back against the plywood wall of his room. He knew he needed to call Zack; he’d put it off as long as possible. He knew he’d get a tongue-lashing of the highest order. He was right.
After three rings, Zack answered the phone with a marked absence of the customary pleasantries. “What the fuck, dude?”
“I got delayed.”
“You got delayed? Really? Delayed? Good. I’m glad that’s all it was, because for a minute there, I was worried that maybe my watch was running two motherfucking days fast!”
“I got caught up with the NSS. And the Janjaweed.”
“The NSS and the Janjas? You left the airport.”
“Yeah.”
“This wouldn’t happen to have anything to do with some Canadian skank working for the ICC, would it?”
“She spread the word, huh?”
“She didn’t spread the word; mushroom clouds over NGO convoys spread the word! You must have charmed the socks off of her; she is saying she doesn’t even remember what you look like, but the Darfuris are saying some lily-white fuckwad blew up two of their trucks and killed a shitload of Janjaweed. What the hell were you doing?”
“She needed my help.”
“Yeah? Outstanding. But you know what? I need your help, too. I need you to do your goddamned job! Chasin’ tail across the desert when you are supposed to be over here getting ready for the most important SAD/ SOG operation in the past decade is not going to get the shoot on sight rescinded, Six.”
“I wasn’t chasing tail. They were going to kill her.”
“Cry me a fucking river! As a matter of fact, cry me the fucking Nile River, because me and the boys almost had to fucking swim the Nile to get over there to pull your ass out of Darfur.”
Court knew the possibility that the CIA would send Whiskey Sierra into Darfur to save Sierra Six had never been on the table. It was a ludicrous assertion. Still, he also knew when it was best to just let Sierra One have his little rant unopposed. Like a forest fire that burns the mountain so thoroughly that no tinder remains to fuel it, Zack’s tirade would extinguish itself in a minute if Court didn’t fight back.
“Look,” said Court, already tired of talking to Zack. “Everything is okay. Sid is sending a plane here to Al Fashir tonight. I’ll be in Suakin by tomorrow evening. I’ll be back on target in time for the op Sunday morning at six thirty. Everything goes ahead as planned.”
“You’d better see that it does, dude. You better get back on target posthaste.