Saharan Desert,
Mauritania
The twin-engine Antonov AN-32 flew over the vast Saharan Desert, cruising along at four hundred and fifty kilometers an hour. Since leaving Algiers, the plane had flown steadily at just over eight thousand meters above sea level. The sturdy Russian transport plane, used by many countries throughout Africa, had come at a steep price, but using one to fly into Mauritania only made sense to Mitchell if they wanted to avoid any unwanted attention. Yuri Uvarov removed his headset, turned the controls of the plane over to his co-pilot, a trusted accomplice from his earlier days as a black-market smuggler, and then climbed out of his seat. He pulled his long, black hair back into a bushy ponytail and then headed to the passenger compartment to join the remainder of Mitchell’s team.
Mitchell saw Yuri, and gave Jackson a little nudge to wake his sleeping friend. No matter where they were or what they were doing, Jackson could always find a way to grab forty winks. It was something Mitchell could never do.
Since leaving the States, Mitchell, Jackson, Fahimah, Sam, and Cardinal had first flown to Charles de Gaulle Airport in Paris; from there, they hopped a flight to Algiers. It was there that they linked up with Yuri and boarded the AN-32 for the last leg of their long journey into Mauritania.
Jackson rubbed his eyes and sat up. His stomach rumbled loudly. “Is it time to eat yet?” asked Jackson, looking around the cabin for some food.
“After the brief, you can eat to your heart’s content,” said Mitchell as Fahimah handed out briefing packages to everyone in the cabin.
“Okay, folks, first things first. Mauritania is a less than stable country. It is an Islamic republic, and the current government is filled with the former heads of the armed forces. They were voted in during an election last year that was roundly criticized by the West,” said Fahimah as she perused her notes. “There is wide-spread discrimination by the Arabic-dominated regime against the nation’s black population. Unbelievably, it is one of the few places left in the world where slavery is still openly practiced.”
“Wonderful place to vacation,” murmured Cardinal, before getting a sharp shot in the ribs from Sam.
“Any hint of rebellion by the population is brutally suppressed by the military. The Arab Spring was an abject failure here, with hundreds killed and many more missing,” explained Fahimah.
“All of this means that we need to tread lightly and do nothing that will bring the heat and light of the Mauritanian Police upon us, as I, for one, don’t want to rot in some African jail for the rest of my natural life,” said Mitchell.
“So what’s our cover?” asked Jackson, pretending to flip through the notes provided by Fahimah.
“Okay, this was really short notice, so I did the best I could,” said Yuri with his thick Russian accent as he reached into a grungy-looking canvas pack and pulled out a handful of fake passports. “I haven’t changed our names or pictures; our cover story is that we are a documentary film crew scouting locations for a show on the desert,” said Yuri as he handed out the passports. “All of the visas and stamps have been entered in the passports. It cost me a lot of money, but they will fool the customs officials at the airport.”
“Equipment?” said Sam, eyeing the less-than-flattering picture in her passport. She quickly decided that she needed to get a better one taken when she got back to the States.
“All in the back,” said Yuri. “I bought cameras, computers, satellite phones, and plenty of other top-of-the-line Japanese stuff. Trust me, we will look like real movie people,” said Yuri.
“Transport?” asked Cardinal.
“I have a trusted friend who still has connections at the airport. We have two old army Land Rovers waiting there for us to pick up once we arrive,” said Yuri.
“Okay, then, everything is set. The plan for us is quite simple,” said Mitchell, looking into the eyes of his teammates. “We’ll split into two teams. Fahimah, Nate, and I will work together while Sam and Cardinal will work as the other. We’ll start in the south and you two can start at the northern end of the Eye of the Sahara. We’ll do hourly calls to pass on any news. Yuri, as per, I want you to be our leg on the ground. See about renting a helicopter in case we need to leave in a hurry.”
“If I can’t find one to rent?” asked Yuri.
“Then get ready to steal one. If things go pear-shaped, there’s no one sitting around waiting to come to our aid. Besides, we can always beg for forgiveness after the fact,” said a grinning Jackson.
“Questions?” asked Mitchell. As he had expected, there were no questions in the eyes of his friends, only a dogged sense of determination to get the job done. He was proud of them all and trusted them with his life.
“Okay then, we’re set,” said Mitchell. “I’m counting on whoever kidnaped Jen to be in the country by now. All we need to do is find them, and then follow them back to where they’re holding her and her mother.”
“Then what?” asked Cardinal.
“Then we go in, get them out, and if need be, kill whoever gets in our way,” said Mitchell, his voice steely with resolve. “If you find yourself in a spot of trouble, don’t hesitate. These people won’t hesitate to kill you, so give them the same courtesy.”
21