her hand. She glanced at the dead man, noticed the army fatigues.
“He’s not Jarek’s man, is he?” she asked.
“No,” Booker replied. He looked at Kalroy. “Your dead friend on the floor is one of Trygg’s mercenaries, isn’t he?”
Aaron checked the dead man’s pockets. “He has no identification.”
“Howmuch did Trygg pay you?” Sandra asked. “To peddle a reward for my capture?”
Kalroy shook his head. “I have no idea what you are talking about.”
Booker dropped the barrel of his gun to Kalroy’s left knee and fired.
Kalroy screamed. He rolled onto the floor and clutched his knee. Sandra bit her lip but did not say anything.
“Try again,” Booker suggested, his tone low, almostguttural.
“Trygg’s man, Rayo, paid me six months’ salary to bring his man here.” Sweat beaded Kalroy’s face. Pain etched his features.
“And if you found her?” Booker demanded.
“We were to kill you, and take her to Tourlay. Then collect the reward.”
“Where in Tourlay?”
“Only he knew,” Kalroy answered, then nodded to the dead man. “I wasn’t told.”
“All right.” Bookershrugged, then lowered his gun. “I believe you—”
Suddenly, Kalroy lunged for the dead man’s pistol. Booker fired into the back of the traitor’s skull.
“You did that on purpose, didn’t you?” Sandra asked. “You knew Kalroy would reach for his gun.”
“I’d hoped,” Booker said flatly, then looked at Aaron. “You have the sports car. I’m taking their car. Consider us even. You can do whateveryou want with the bodies.”
Chapter Six
There weren’t too many duties Jim Rayo hated.
Acting as delivery boy, however, was at the top of his list.
He parked his jeep at the crest of a nearby dune, and studied the perimeter. The sun hit the top of the sky, turning the Sahara into miles of molten gold.
He’d been here before. Many times over the years. But most of those times, blood stained thesand, clogged the air. And bodies littered the dunes.
He’d followed Riorden Trygg for twenty-five years. A little more than half his life. Desert Storm. Operation Freedom. Several known occupations and others not so known.
Through it all, Trygg had saved his life more than a dozen times, bailed his butt out of bad situations countless more.
When Trygg had first found him, Jim hadbeen barely in his twenties. He’d been tried and convicted for manslaughter after a drunken brawl escalated into a knife fight.
Trygg walked into his cell like he owned Leavenworth. He’d been a colonel back then. His chest crammed with metals, his hair short and tight, a cigar hanging out of his mouth. And a half a dozen more shoved in the shirt pockets of prison guards.
Trygg gave hima choice. Thirty years in prison, or his full rank back and an opportunity to serve his country the way he’d always intended.
The only thing Trygg required was Jim’s word. His sworn loyalty.
From that day, he’d followed Trygg throughout numerous countries, campaigns and, finally, to Capitol Hill. Neither man had broken his promise.
He even shared Trygg’s goal of creating the perfectsoldier.
But all of it had changed with CIRCADIAN.
The whir of a helicopter split the air. Jim watched the bird land several yards away, the pilot giving him the high sign.
Jim waited until a slight, mousy man jumped from the opening. Military gear hung on his small frame along with a briefcase strapped over his shoulder and a gray gym bag gripped in one hand.
“Colonel.” DoctorLewis Pitman tossed the gym bag into the back of the jeep and slid onto the passenger seat. “Are we on schedule?”
“Yes.” Jim started the vehicle. “We’re in the last stages.”
“Good. Good,” Lewis said. He placed his briefcase at his feet and fastened his seat belt. “And Dr. Haddad? Is she at the camp?”
“No.”
Pitman frowned. “If we are in the last stages, we need her within thenext forty-eight hours. I need time to adapt my systems. You realize
“He’s not Jarek’s man, is he?” she asked.
“No,” Booker replied. He looked at Kalroy. “Your dead friend on the floor is one of Trygg’s mercenaries, isn’t he?”
Aaron checked the dead man’s pockets. “He has no identification.”
“Howmuch did Trygg pay you?” Sandra asked. “To peddle a reward for my capture?”
Kalroy shook his head. “I have no idea what you are talking about.”
Booker dropped the barrel of his gun to Kalroy’s left knee and fired.
Kalroy screamed. He rolled onto the floor and clutched his knee. Sandra bit her lip but did not say anything.
“Try again,” Booker suggested, his tone low, almostguttural.
“Trygg’s man, Rayo, paid me six months’ salary to bring his man here.” Sweat beaded Kalroy’s face. Pain etched his features.
“And if you found her?” Booker demanded.
“We were to kill you, and take her to Tourlay. Then collect the reward.”
“Where in Tourlay?”
“Only he knew,” Kalroy answered, then nodded to the dead man. “I wasn’t told.”
“All right.” Bookershrugged, then lowered his gun. “I believe you—”
Suddenly, Kalroy lunged for the dead man’s pistol. Booker fired into the back of the traitor’s skull.
“You did that on purpose, didn’t you?” Sandra asked. “You knew Kalroy would reach for his gun.”
“I’d hoped,” Booker said flatly, then looked at Aaron. “You have the sports car. I’m taking their car. Consider us even. You can do whateveryou want with the bodies.”
Chapter Six
There weren’t too many duties Jim Rayo hated.
Acting as delivery boy, however, was at the top of his list.
He parked his jeep at the crest of a nearby dune, and studied the perimeter. The sun hit the top of the sky, turning the Sahara into miles of molten gold.
He’d been here before. Many times over the years. But most of those times, blood stained thesand, clogged the air. And bodies littered the dunes.
He’d followed Riorden Trygg for twenty-five years. A little more than half his life. Desert Storm. Operation Freedom. Several known occupations and others not so known.
Through it all, Trygg had saved his life more than a dozen times, bailed his butt out of bad situations countless more.
When Trygg had first found him, Jim hadbeen barely in his twenties. He’d been tried and convicted for manslaughter after a drunken brawl escalated into a knife fight.
Trygg walked into his cell like he owned Leavenworth. He’d been a colonel back then. His chest crammed with metals, his hair short and tight, a cigar hanging out of his mouth. And a half a dozen more shoved in the shirt pockets of prison guards.
Trygg gave hima choice. Thirty years in prison, or his full rank back and an opportunity to serve his country the way he’d always intended.
The only thing Trygg required was Jim’s word. His sworn loyalty.
From that day, he’d followed Trygg throughout numerous countries, campaigns and, finally, to Capitol Hill. Neither man had broken his promise.
He even shared Trygg’s goal of creating the perfectsoldier.
But all of it had changed with CIRCADIAN.
The whir of a helicopter split the air. Jim watched the bird land several yards away, the pilot giving him the high sign.
Jim waited until a slight, mousy man jumped from the opening. Military gear hung on his small frame along with a briefcase strapped over his shoulder and a gray gym bag gripped in one hand.
“Colonel.” DoctorLewis Pitman tossed the gym bag into the back of the jeep and slid onto the passenger seat. “Are we on schedule?”
“Yes.” Jim started the vehicle. “We’re in the last stages.”
“Good. Good,” Lewis said. He placed his briefcase at his feet and fastened his seat belt. “And Dr. Haddad? Is she at the camp?”
“No.”
Pitman frowned. “If we are in the last stages, we need her within thenext forty-eight hours. I need time to adapt my systems. You realize
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