Tucker took a deep breath and let it out audibly.
“What?” Anya asked. “What’s wrong?”
“Namibia is in the middle of a bloody war,” Tucker explained. “Between government forces and guerrillas.”
“And those guerrillas,” Harper added, “hold those mountains. They’re particularly fond of kidnapping foreigners and holding them for ransom.”
Bukolov puffed loudly, clearly frustrated. “There has to be a way. We cannot abandon the search now.”
“We’re not, but if you go, I wanted you to understand what you could be facing out there. I’ll arrange some local assets to assist you in Africa, but it’ll be far from safe.”
Bukolov shook his head. “I must go! We must try! Before Kharzin finds some other means to discover that cave. Utkin only saw that map page briefly before I burned it, but I don’t know how much he retained or shared. And maybe I inadvertently mentioned something to him. I simply don’t know.”
Anya spoke with more certainty. “What I do know is that General Kharzin won’t stop. Most everyone at the SVR detests him. He’s a Cold War–era warrior, a real dinosaur. He believes Russia’s brightest days died with Stalin. If Utkin has been feeding him intelligence all along, then he understands LUCA’s potential as a weapon. Properly introduced into an ecosystem—like a rice paddy in Japan—a single speck of LUCA would systematically destroy that ecosystem. And not just that rice paddy, but all of them.”
“That must not happen,” Bukolov pressed.
“I agree,” Harper said. “I’ll begin making arrangements.”
11:10 A.M.
After settling some minor issues, Harper asked to speak to Tucker alone.
“Have we made a devil’s deal here, Tucker? Part of me thinks we should just firebomb this cave if we find it.”
“It may come down to that. But you’ve also made one hell of an assumption.”
“Which is what?”
“That Kane and I are going to Africa.”
“What? After everything we just discussed, you’d consider bailing out?”
Tucker chuckled. “No, but a girl likes to be asked to the dance.”
Harper laughed in return. “Consider yourself asked. So what’s your assessment of Anya and Bukolov. He plainly doesn’t want her along.”
“I say that’s his problem. Anya’s earned her place on this mission.”
“I agree. She seems to know almost as much about LUCA as he does. And considering the stakes, it wouldn’t hurt to have a different perspective on things. But the good doctor will not like it.”
Tucker sighed. “The sooner Bukolov learns that his tantrums will get him nowhere, the better it will be for everyone once he reaches the United States.”
“How soon can you get me a list of supplies you’ll need?”
“A couple hours. I want to be under way tonight. In Springbok by noon.”
“Understood.”
“And I need to ask a couple of favors.”
“Name them.”
“First, find the family of the Beriev pilot.” Elena. “Make sure they know where to find her body and reimburse them for the Beriev.”
“And second?”
“Make sure Utkin’s body is returned to his family. They’re in a village called Kolyshkino on the Volga River.”
“Why? The man betrayed you—almost got you all killed.”
“But in the end, he saved us. And I respect that last act.”
Naive or not, Tucker wanted to believe that maybe Anya was right. That Utkin had been forced against his will to betray them. But he would never know for sure. And maybe it was better that way.
“Sounds as though you liked him.” Harper’s voice went unusually soft, as if sensing the depth of his regret.
“I suppose I did. It’s hard to explain.”
Thankfully she let it go at that.
“Okay, I’ll handle everything. But what about sending additional muscle your way, something beyond a few local assets?”
“I think small is better.”
Besides, Tucker had all the help he needed and trusted in the form of his four-legged partner.
“You may be right,” Harper agreed. “South Africa’s security agencies run a tight ship. You show up big and loud, and they’ll be all over you.”
“I can’t argue with that.”
“Now, I have to ask something difficult of you,” she said.
“Go ahead.”
“If you get to that cave and things go sour, you make damned sure LUCA doesn’t see the light of day. No matter the cost. Or casualties. Is that understood?”
Tucker inhaled deeply. “I’ll get it done.”
3:34 P.M.
A soft knock on his door woke him out of a slight drowse. Kane lifted his head from Tucker’s chest as the two lay sprawled on the bed, napping in the day’s heat.
Tucker, still in his clothes, rolled to his feet and placed his face in his hands.
Who the hell . . .
Kane hopped down, sidled to the door, and sniffed along the bottom. His tail began to wag. Someone he knew.
“Tucker, are you awake?” a voice called through the door.
Anya.
He groaned, stepped over, and unlocked the door. He wiped his eyes blearily. “What’s wrong?”
Something better be wrong.
Anya stood in the doorway, wearing a peach-colored sundress. She smoothed it over her hips self-consciously with her good hand. “One of the consulate wives gave it to me. I’m sorry, you were sleeping, weren’t you?”
She began to step away.
“No. It’s all right. Come in.”
“I should probably be sleeping, too. But every time I lie down . . .” She walked over to the side chair across from the bed and sat down. “I’m frightened, Tucker.”
“Of going to South Africa?”
“Of course, that. But mostly about what happens after all this. Once we’re in America.”
“Anya, the government will give you a new identity, a new place to live. And with your background, you’ll have no trouble finding work. You’ll be fine.”
“I’ll be alone. Everything I know will be gone. Even Bukolov. You heard him. He’ll barely talk to me now.”
“Maybe he’ll calm down and eventually understand.”
She picked slightly at her cast, her voice growing pained. “He won’t. I know him.”
Tucker knew she was right. Bukolov was single-minded and emotionally inflexible. Now that he had De Klerk’s diary in hand, Anya was no longer indispensable to his work. And in addition she had proven herself untrustworthy. For Bukolov, both of these sins were unpardonable.