Read Online Pestilence (Jack Randall #2) by Randall Wood - Free Book Online
Authors: Randall Wood
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door, a white man of about forty and a black man of the same age. The black man wore the uniform of the Tanzanian military and stood at least 6'5" with a heavily muscled frame. He was not sweating at all.
“Mr. Randall? Peter Brooks from the embassy. This is Major Arusha from the Tanzanian Security forces. He’ll help us through customs and get us into the city.”
Jack shook both the offered hands. “You’re from the embassy staff?”
“Yes, aide to Ambassador Green. I was fortunate enough to be out of the building the day of the bombing. I was meeting with the Major here to discuss medication delivery. I’m afraid it requires security as a vicious black market has developed.”
The major spoke with a deep voice that carried over the sound of the jet engines in the distance. “I wish to express our sympathies on behalf of my country. My president asked that I extend you any courtesy you may need to help bring these criminals to justice.”
“Thank you, Major. I hope our people can work together to make that happen,” Jack replied.
“Like an English Darth Vader,” Eric whispered.
“Shut up,” Sydney hissed back.
“If you will just follow me, please?” the major bellowed at them. He turned and led them through the hangar and into the red brick building. The customs facilities were bypassed and airport security scrambled to get out of the major’s way as he led them with long strides out to the street. Two buses waited, accompanied by two Jeeps sporting mounted machine guns and three-man crews. A police car led the motorcade with lights flashing.
“A precaution. We don’t expect further trouble,” Brooks quietly offered Jack. “They feel embarrassed by what happened. We can’t really say no without offending them.” Jack just nodded in reply. He’d been briefed. The Tanzanian government saw the terrorist as a threat to their nation as well. While the island of Zanzibar had a high Muslim population, the mainland people were mostly Gratian or Tribal in their religious beliefs. The current government was like all governments—they wished to remain in control.
“Why the wire?” Eric asked Larry. The buses came with thick wire over the open glass windows.
“To keep the grenades out,” Larry answered.
“Oh.”
“Did I mention that I hate Africa?”
Drought and famine in northwest Africa.
August 9, 2009—USA Today
—FIVE—
S ydney stood up from her seat in the front of the bus and turned to face the group. She consulted a list she had put together while on the plane and addressed them in her loudest voice, to be heard over the open windows and street noise.
“Everybody listen up! We’re making a stop at the hospital on our way in. We have some supplies for them, and those of you who can will be asked to donate blood. Supplies are critical and the local donors can’t be screened thoroughly. I have all your types here, and these people need every drop.” She paused, expecting some resistance. There was none. She got an encouraging smile from Heather. Sydney realized she was the wrong person for the rest of the speech. “Heather will fill you in on what you’ll be seeing and what we’ll need of you.” She let go of the overhead rail and dropped into her seat with the help of the potholed road. Heather struggled to take her place and quickly grabbed the vacated rail.
“I don’t know all of your backgrounds or what you may have been exposed to, so forgive me if I’m talking down to any of you,” she began. “The hospital here has been overwhelmed for some time, mostly due to AIDS. When the beds are all full people end up on the floor or in the hallways. Now with all the victims of the bombing, they are barely hanging on. Supplies are being flown in from outside the country, but they take time to load and ship. So we beat them here, is what I’m trying to say. People are being treated in a tent city that was set up for the overflow, but until the Mercy docks in the
“Mr. Randall? Peter Brooks from the embassy. This is Major Arusha from the Tanzanian Security forces. He’ll help us through customs and get us into the city.”
Jack shook both the offered hands. “You’re from the embassy staff?”
“Yes, aide to Ambassador Green. I was fortunate enough to be out of the building the day of the bombing. I was meeting with the Major here to discuss medication delivery. I’m afraid it requires security as a vicious black market has developed.”
The major spoke with a deep voice that carried over the sound of the jet engines in the distance. “I wish to express our sympathies on behalf of my country. My president asked that I extend you any courtesy you may need to help bring these criminals to justice.”
“Thank you, Major. I hope our people can work together to make that happen,” Jack replied.
“Like an English Darth Vader,” Eric whispered.
“Shut up,” Sydney hissed back.
“If you will just follow me, please?” the major bellowed at them. He turned and led them through the hangar and into the red brick building. The customs facilities were bypassed and airport security scrambled to get out of the major’s way as he led them with long strides out to the street. Two buses waited, accompanied by two Jeeps sporting mounted machine guns and three-man crews. A police car led the motorcade with lights flashing.
“A precaution. We don’t expect further trouble,” Brooks quietly offered Jack. “They feel embarrassed by what happened. We can’t really say no without offending them.” Jack just nodded in reply. He’d been briefed. The Tanzanian government saw the terrorist as a threat to their nation as well. While the island of Zanzibar had a high Muslim population, the mainland people were mostly Gratian or Tribal in their religious beliefs. The current government was like all governments—they wished to remain in control.
“Why the wire?” Eric asked Larry. The buses came with thick wire over the open glass windows.
“To keep the grenades out,” Larry answered.
“Oh.”
“Did I mention that I hate Africa?”
Drought and famine in northwest Africa.
August 9, 2009—USA Today
—FIVE—
S ydney stood up from her seat in the front of the bus and turned to face the group. She consulted a list she had put together while on the plane and addressed them in her loudest voice, to be heard over the open windows and street noise.
“Everybody listen up! We’re making a stop at the hospital on our way in. We have some supplies for them, and those of you who can will be asked to donate blood. Supplies are critical and the local donors can’t be screened thoroughly. I have all your types here, and these people need every drop.” She paused, expecting some resistance. There was none. She got an encouraging smile from Heather. Sydney realized she was the wrong person for the rest of the speech. “Heather will fill you in on what you’ll be seeing and what we’ll need of you.” She let go of the overhead rail and dropped into her seat with the help of the potholed road. Heather struggled to take her place and quickly grabbed the vacated rail.
“I don’t know all of your backgrounds or what you may have been exposed to, so forgive me if I’m talking down to any of you,” she began. “The hospital here has been overwhelmed for some time, mostly due to AIDS. When the beds are all full people end up on the floor or in the hallways. Now with all the victims of the bombing, they are barely hanging on. Supplies are being flown in from outside the country, but they take time to load and ship. So we beat them here, is what I’m trying to say. People are being treated in a tent city that was set up for the overflow, but until the Mercy docks in the
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