Read Online African Ice by Jeff Buick - Free Book Online Page A

watching her as she moved through the teeming slums. Street vendors hawked their goods from small carts or off the dirt that served as the sidewalk. She attracted a great deal of attention as she walked, her white skin and blond hair visible from a distance. At times, conversations stopped as she passed, the natives intent on watching her as long as possible. None of it made her feel uncomfortable. Rather, it made her feel special.
    And special is not something New Yorkers feel when they walk down a crowded street. But here in Africa, she was a square peg in a round hole. She was different. She was someone to be stared at in bewilderment. She was an outsider, someone who didn’t live in the most populated country on the African continent. She was someone who had a life beyond the daily misery that defined Rwandan society. And for that reason alone, they stared at her with envy.
    She arrived at the hotel just after eight and found the four ex-SEALs in the restaurant eating breakfast. She sat down and ordered, waiting until the waiter had left before explaining where she had been since before sunrise.
    â€œI met Hal last time I was in Rwanda,” she said. “He is absolutely trustworthy and will make an excellent guide. He knows the region we’re headed for. He’s spent a lot of time in the mountains on both sides of the border between the Congo and Rwanda. And he speaks the language.”
    â€œYou’re sure he’s okay?” Travis asked. “There’s no way he could be a plant?”
    â€œImpossible!” she responded quickly. “He had no idea we were here, and I approached him, not the other way around. This one is not negotiable—we need this guy.”
    â€œOkay,” the team leader said, “he’s in. But he’s on a short leash.” She nodded. Travis finished his coffee and continued. “We have two Land Rovers from Kigali to the border. Once we arrive, Colonel Mugumba will have our supplies in two additional vehicles. We get to keep all four. We lose the support team we have now, but pick up a military escort from Goma to Butembo. After that, we’re in the jungle, and on our own.”
    â€œMy geological equipment is with your guns?” Sam asked.
    â€œSupposed to be,” he answered. “According to Kerrigan and Ng. They stowed everything you asked for on the boat the night before we arrived with the missiles.”
    â€œMissiles?” Samantha asked, intrigued.
    He grinned sheepishly. “We probably won’t need them. Overkill, you know. When will our guide arrive?”
    â€œI told him within the hour, so he should be here soon. What time do you want to leave?”
    â€œSoon.” He brightened as the concierge entered the restaurant. The man carried a small box and looked quite pleased. He placed it on the table in front of Travis and waited as the team leader poked through the contents. A few moments later, Travis thanked the man and slipped him some cash. He held up a mason jar containing a clear liquid, a handful of flowers, and some thin rope.
    â€œEverything you need to keep the creepy crawlers out of your sleeping bag. Diesel fuel,” he said, holding up the mason jar. He slipped one of the flowers from the box. “Pyrethrum. Mixed with diesel, this stuff is totally repugnant to any jungle creature.”
    â€œWhat’s the rope for?” Alain asked.
    â€œWe’re going to be on army cots,” Travis said. “We’ll have mosquito netting over the cots and draped on the ground surrounding the bed. The problem is, snakes and other poisonous things can get in under the netting, unless you stop them. We soak the rope in the diesel and Pyrethrum mixture and then lay the rope around the edge of the netting on the ground. Presto. Nothing poisonous in your bed.”
    â€œFucking brilliant,” Dan said.
    Philip Acundo entered the restaurant, followed by the three Congolese soldiers assigned