The north-side guard was two hundred feet away and closing when Jake scrambled up the riverbed and began crawling through the mud with his rifle in his arms. As soon the guard made his turn at the corner, Jake went to the wall and threw a knotted rope into a crook atop the stockade fence. He pulled himself up the side of the fence, his muddy hands and feet slipping several times as they struggled for purchase.

Jake reached the top and looked for the nearest guard. He was fifty yards away and closing quickly.

Jake dropped into camp.

He flicked the rope off the fence, stuffed it into the exterior webbing of his pack, and crouch-walked to the nearest darkened building. Its glassless windows were covered with canvas tarps, flapping in the wind and heavy rain.

Covered in mud and sitting on the ground under a wooden eave, Jake was effectively invisible. He raised his rifle and tracked the nearest guard as the man passed and made his turn at the northwest corner. Thunder cracked nearby as the guard passed by a second time and began the long slog back across the northern side of camp. The western guard passed by a moment later.

With his right hand holding the rifle firmly against his shoulder, Jake used his left hand to pull one of the tarps back a few inches and look inside the building. Through his night vision goggles he saw knives, hatchets, and Zulu and Masai spears along the walls, plus two bunks and a table and chairs—but no people and no sign of the bioweapon.

Jake suspected it was being stored in a building fifty yards to the east. No one had entered or exited that single building since he’d arrived in Dujuma, and many of the men in camp seemed to give it a wide berth as they went about their duties.

Jake checked the positions of the four interior guards, lowered himself to the ground, and started crawling again. The mud was thick and the puddles deep. By the time he was halfway to the next building, mud had made its way into his clothes, his hair, and his boots.

A bolt of lightning struck somewhere in the southern part of the valley, illuminating the entire camp as if the sun had come out for a split second. Colors came to life, details became crisp, and the impenetrable curtain of the heavy rain was lifted. Jake saw the buildings along the north wall that he believed to be the barracks and the latrine. He saw the structure in front of him that he suspected of housing the weapon.

And he saw the guards pacing along the north and south walls.

Which meant that they could see him.

Jake froze.

He was flat on the ground, practically inhaling mud, but he still had a pack and a rifle—distinctive shapes that didn’t blend in with the land.