Desert Secrets

“I understand how you feel. Because I have a German passport, they think the country will pay, but if that’s true, no one on either side seems to be in a hurry.”

She didn’t say anything, because there was nothing really to say. Instead, she wiped the sweat off her forehead with the sleeve of her shirt. She’d never again complain about the heat back in Timbuktu—if she were ever able to return. It had to be at least twenty degrees hotter out here.

“What was your brother doing in Mali?” Bret asked, breaking the silence between them.

“He told me he just wanted to come for a visit, though now I’m not so sure.” She leaned forward and wrapped her arms around her knees, hating feeling so vulnerable and defenseless. “What about you? You mentioned your wife.”

“Becca and I’ve been married twenty-one years, and have a seventeen-year-old son, Noah.” He twisted the gold ring on his left hand. “I was hoping to return with my son next year, but now...”

“Why here?” she asked, realizing what a welcome distraction the conversation was.

“My brother-in-law’s a pilot with West African Mission Aviation. They provide medical care and disaster relief. He’s the one who connected me to the group I ended up joining.”

“I met one of their pilots once.” Lexi fiddled with the hem of her pale blue T-shirt while watching the tent flap flutter in the hot breeze. “His name was Colton.”

“Colton... That’s my brother-in-law.”

“Really?” She looked up and caught Bret’s gaze. “Wow. It’s a small world, isn’t it? Think he’s working on a plan to rescue you?”

Bret let out a low laugh. “I’ll be honest—the thought has crossed my mind more than once. It wouldn’t be easy, but Colton’s former military and was involved in another rescue a few months back off the coast of Guinea-Bissau. If anyone could pull it off, he could.”

She wanted to believe a rescue was possible. From the brief conversation she’d had with Colton at a local restaurant in Timbuktu a couple months ago, she’d been impressed with the handsome pilot. She’d learned that he did most of his flying for missionaries and aid organizations farther to the west.

“What about you?” Bret asked, taking a sip of the water. “What brought you to Mali?”

“I’ve been working on sustainable water sources the past nine months. As you probably know, both distribution networks and access to water are a huge concern.”

Most nights she was asleep not long after the sun sank below the horizon, exhausted from a long day of dealing with red tape and language barriers. She was over five thousand miles away from her hometown in Southern California—and even further, culturally—but she loved the feeling of accomplishment her work brought. And the feeling that she was doing her part to make the world a better place.

“Lexi...” Bret placed his hand on her shoulder. Amar was walking back toward where they were sitting in the sand, his automatic slung over his shoulder, and a deep frown across his face. “We will find a way out of this. Alive. I promise.”

A wave of nausea washed over her. She wanted him to be right, but she also knew that wasn’t a promise he could keep.

* * *

Colton Landry felt the muscles in his shoulders tense as he went through his prelanding checklist and began his descent toward the isolated airstrip. He glanced out the window of the six-passenger Cessna at the endless terrain below, needing to calm his nerves.

From the first time he’d flown as a sixteen-year-old, he’d discovered there was nothing more exhilarating than catching a bird’s-eye view of the earth’s surface in a small plane. But today as he flew above the legendary Sahara Desert of North Africa, the view did little to take away the stress knotted in his stomach.

Had it already been almost two months since his brother-in-law had vanished? The phone call to his sister had left them both reeling.

If you don’t come up with two million dollars in cash, we will kill him.

He’d read the news articles of the booming business. Kidnapping hostages had proven to be easy money and common across North Africa. And the captors seemingly had both the patience and time to get what they wanted. He knew if he ever planned to see his brother-in-law alive again, he was going to have to take matters into his own hands.

Which was why, when a representative from the Malian army had come to him with a plan, he’d jumped at the chance to make it happen.

They told him they were dealing with a small rogue band of work-for-hire bearded fighters. All Colton had to do was fly in with his two suitcases filled with counterfeit money. Once the exchange was made, they’d provide the needed firepower and get the credit for taking down the group of insurgents that had been plaguing their northern border.

It was a win-win situation for everyone.

It was also a risk. But the military had taught him all about taking dangerous chances. And this was one chance he was willing to take. He’d heard his sister’s frantic voice on the phone and seen the video of Bret along with the militants’ well-rehearsed demands. It might not be his brother-in-law’s best way out, but at the moment, it was their only option.

Minutes later, Colton landed on the airstrip, a hundred miles from the nearest town. The promised Jeep was waiting for him next to the landing strip along with the driver, who introduced himself as Joseph.

“You’re late,” the other man said, grabbing one of the suitcases Colton had brought with him off the plane.

“How far to the exchange?” he asked, ignoring the other man’s comment.

“Fifteen minutes tops.”

He threw his suitcase into the back of the 4x4, sent up another prayer for protection for his brother-in-law, then slipped into the front passenger seat.

Joseph started the engine and headed north along the sand-covered rolling plains with a few rugged hills in the distance. “So you are from the United States.”

“Yeah.”

“I have a brother in Chicago. He moved there over a decade ago. I always planned to visit, but for some reason never made it.”

The man’s English was decent, but Colton wasn’t in the mood for chitchat. All he wanted was to get to the meeting place, make the exchange and get his brother-in-law out of here.

“Is our backup ready?” Colton asked.

“Don’t worry. They will be there.”

“It’s kind of hard not to worry.” He gripped the armrest as the Jeep flew over a ridge of sand. “My brother-in-law’s life is on the line.”

“You’re clear on the plan?” Joseph asked.

“Once we get to the rendezvous spot, I’ll hand them the suitcases, take my brother-in-law and then let the army clean up the mess while we hightail it back to the plane.”

He spoke like this was a routine part of his job; one he’d done a dozen times before. But just because he followed the rules didn’t mean the kidnappers were planning to follow them, as well. He wasn’t naive enough to ignore the possibility that this could end very, very badly.

Because this entire situation was far from routine. He’d spent hundreds of hours shuttling people to remote places like where they were right now. Allowing people to do water and medical projects and other types of development. A plane was the most effective means of reaching an out-of-the-way village when the alternative was driving hundreds of miles over rough terrain. But this—the outcome of this mission—was completely out of his control.

“You sound like you’ve done this before,” Joseph said.

“Hardly. But I don’t have a choice. They’re going to kill my brother-in-law if I don’t do something.”

There were also political ramifications to consider. He knew terrorist groups took in millions of dollars from kidnappings. Money was funneled through proxy networks, often disguised as foreign aid. He didn’t like playing a part in that scheme. But what else was he supposed to do?

Twenty-five minutes later, Colton saw a cluster of tent flaps blowing beneath the next ridge. If all went according to plan, in another five minutes he’d be making his way back to the plane with Bret. Then he and his brother would be flying toward Morocco and freedom.

I need this plan to work, God...

Because Bret’s life depended on it.

Joseph stopped the vehicle a dozen yards from the nearest tent. “I’ll wait here for you.”