African Dragon by David M. Salkin

years ago. Every few months, some group of maniacs raids a village and kills everybody and steals everything they can carry, and there are no police outside the cities, really. This country is fucked, man.”
    “Yeah? So what the hell are we doing here?” asked Cascaes.
    “It’s called uranium, maybe you heard of it. They make big fucking bombs out of the stuff. Apparently, the Chinese would like it. All of it.”
    “Any news?” asked Cascaes.
    “Yeah. Lot’s of it. Never sure how reliable any of it is, but a dollar will buy you hours of stories. And an MRE might get you a friend for life.”
    Cascaes thought back to Jesse’s speech about the people fighting for a sandwich, not for a political agenda. He asked, “So you hear anything about the Chinese or Nigel disappearing?”
    Mackey closed his eyes and pointed his face to the sun, catching a ray. “Lots of talk about the Chinese and the People’s Army of Congo. Just say ‘PAC’ around here and people shit in their pants…or loincloths, whatever the case may be.”
    “And?” asked Cascaes.
    “And evidently, the rumors are true. Chinese agents are spreading lots of money around. They opened a ‘humanitarian aid station’ not far from Kalemie. When did you ever hear of China doing a humanitarian mission?”
    “Uh, never,” said Cascaes.
    “Exactly. I drove by there to see what was going down. Couldn’t even get close, man. ‘Security guards’, they’re calling them. Security guards my ass. There was a whole fuckin army down there, all carrying new Chinese machine guns. Even had pretty little yellow berets so they could resemble an actual army. We’ll go pay them a visit one of these nights. You brought night vision equipment, right?”
    “Affirmative. When the stories came in about the size of the PAC, the company was kind enough to double our combat load. There is also a float of marines heading to the coast, although I’m told they most likely won’t be allowed to land.”
    “Too bad,” said Mackey. “Give us a couple of rifle companies and we could wipe the slate clean in two days.”
    “Hell, Executive Outcome took Angola with a group not much bigger than what we have now.” Executive Outcome was a group of mercenaries hired by the Angolan government to bolster their army. Oil companies had also hired them to secure the oil fields from UNITA forces during the war. It was estimated that a force of some five hundred mercenaries defeated a rebel army over ten times its size.
    “Yeah, well, I spoke with Director Holstrum himself last week. He specifically told me not to start World War Three with China.”
    Cascaes grunted.
    “So anyway, China is giving away food and money to anyone who will join the PAC, and the DRC government doesn’t want to face the music yet. Instead, they are asking the UN to send peacekeepers for fear of increasing instability. They asked that same great organization for help securing the uranium mines six months ago. You see any white trucks that said ‘UN’ on the side? ‘Cause I sure didn’t.”
    “Yeah, I seem to have missed those little blue flags, too,” said Cascaes sarcastically.
    “Right. And while the DRC government sits around waiting for the UN to come rescue them, China is going to help build an army to overthrow their ass.”
    “Well, we won’t be bored,” said Cascaes. “Any hits on Nigel?”
    “Unfortunately, that’s been a dead end. Maybe if he had been a white guy, somebody would have noticed something. He just totally disappeared. My guess is the Chinese took him. If he is still alive, he’s either in China or down at their little aid station surrounded by a few thousand guerrillas. Either way, it doesn’t look good.”
    They sat in silence for a while, contemplating being captured by the Chinese. They independently decided in their own heads that they would die fighting first. Cascaes finally broke the silence.
    “You see our new home away from home yet?” he asked.
    “Yeah.