At the Edge of the Sun (Maggie Bennett 3)

“Maggie,” he said. “Leave me alone. There’s too much riding on this to play guessing games. Either our cover works or it doesn’t. And there’s nothing we can say or do at this point to influence matters. Go back to your seat.”

Without a word she leaned forward, brushing her lips against his hard, worried mouth then pulled away, rose to her feet, and went back to her solitary seat.

“What do you suppose they’re talking about?” Holly murmured.

Ian’s green eyes narrowed as he took in the pair of them. “I don’t know. Whatever it is, it isn’t pleasant.”

“No. Maggie looks like she’s about to cry. And Maggie never cries.”

“Maybe he’s just told her how bad our chances are. Even if our fake identities get us into the fortress, getting out will be the real challenge.”

“Not to mention taking Flynn with us,” Holly added.

Ian grimaced. “You don’t need to mention it,” he said. “We’re not bringing him out.”

“You can’t just kill him in cold blood.”

“I can,” Ian said. “And I will. Or I’ll damn well die trying.”

Holly, looking at his determined expression, had little doubt that he would.

The rest of the flight passed in silence. Three hours later they landed on a small airstrip in the midst of a shimmering desert. Heat surrounded them in waves as they walked into the African sunset, heat so intense that the sweat evaporated from their skin before it had time to form.

“I thought you said Cul de Sac was in the grasslands,” Maggie whispered to Randall.

“These were grasslands,” he replied. “Salambia’s been hit by the drought almost as badly as Ethiopia. Look nursely, Maggie. Here comes our welcoming committee.”

A jeep was barreling down the roadway toward the waiting jet, whipping up whirls of dust in its wake. It slammed to a stop a few yards away from the four of them, and the two men who jumped out had bristling beards, soulful Arabic eyes, and Uzi machine guns trained directly at the newcomers.

“Lazarus?” Maggie whispered. Randall shook his head.

The older of the two moved toward them, machine gun at the ready, a welcoming smile on his ferocious face. “Welcome to Salambia, my friends. State your names and business.”

“Dr. Irwin Milhouse,” Randall said, stepping forward and sounding marvelously officious. Once more Maggie had to admire his ability to take on protective coloring. She could readily believe he was a plastic surgeon from Scarsdale and not the dark, dangerous man she’d been sleeping with. “I’m here to perform surgery on several of your guests. This is my nurse, Maria Calderwood.” He held out the phony passports with a steady, slightly impatient hand.

The first man grabbed the papers, glanced at them, and his smile widened. “You are expected, Doctor,” he said. “You and your assistant. And who are your friends?”

It was Ian’s cue, and he played right up to it. He swaggered forward, and although his New Zealand accent sounded like a cross between Australia and Texas, the two Semitic strongmen didn’t know the difference. “I’m James Welcome, and this is my lady, Hilary. We’ve been told by mutual friends that there’s a place for us here.”

“What friends?” The first man wasn’t half as friendly, though his smile remained undiminished.

“The four horsemen,” Ian said.

The men nodded at the recognized code word. “Lazarus will be glad to see you. Please to climb into the jeep. I’m sorry there isn’t more room, but we were only expecting two.”

“That’s all right, mate,” Ian assured them. “Hilary and I can snuggle.”

“As for you, Doctor, you couldn’t have come at a better time. We have three patients for you, at least, and maybe more.”

“How gratifying,” Randall said icily, climbing into the jeep and pulling Maggie after him.

The rest followed suit, the six of them cramped into a vehicle better suited for two. “I am Abu Hassan Mizal,” the older man introduced himself as the jeep roared to life. “And I’m your first patient, Doctor.”

“Really?” Randall murmured coolly.

Mizal nodded. “We know you are in a hurry to return to America,” he added. “All the arrangements have been made.”

Maggie could see Randall’s slight frown of irritation. As far as she knew the real Dr. Milhouse hadn’t explained any arrangements.