Rapp kept Auma in front of him, glancing back when a number of men fell in behind. He hated having people flanking him but there wasn’t much he could do. If Auma had managed to transmit some kind of signal that he’d missed, he was likely going to get shot in the back. It was Coleman’s greatest concern—that Auma had some kind of “all clear” sign and that, in its absence, his disciples would tear whoever he was with apart.

They crashed through a particularly dense section of jungle and then exited into a clearing that Rapp recognized from the overhead shots he’d studied. The rectangular object at the center was indeed an altar—complete with chains and streaked dark with what he assumed was dried blood. Behind was the muddy cliff and cave entrance that Auma had described. Next to that was something he’d thought was just a legend meant to scare the locals. A fucking iron maiden. Nothing fancy—little more than a simple coffin with a hinged lid and nails driven through it—but functional. The unit was open and leaned against the dirt wall with a body inside. Kind of like an Old West display but with a corpse covered in rotting perforations.

Auma climbed the mound that contained the altar as the clearing filled with his followers. Rapp, not sure what his role in this twisted ceremony should be, took a position on the other side of the stone structure.

The African raised his arms, feeding off the glassy eyes staring up at him. “We have him!”

The cheers were deafening, and Rapp didn’t need the earpiece to get the gist of what was being said.

Praise be unto Gideon Auma.

The cult leader opened his hands, silencing them. “Soon we will have the tools to take Uganda. And then Africa. And then the world. In the name of God and his one true prophet.”

The cheers erupted again as he slowly turned full circle and gazed out over his disciples. Rapp tightened his grip on the remote in his pocket. Better to err on the side of caution and blow this guy’s nuts sky high at anything that even hinted at betrayal. He might be able to disappear in the confusion that would ensue. If Auma called him out first, though, there was a good chance he’d be joining that poor asshole in the iron maiden.

When the clearing descended back into silence, Auma spoke again. “In celebration, we will all take the Sacrament.”

That brought a second round of cheers that went beyond enthusiastic and crossed into ecstatic. Rapp pulled the pack off his shoulder and was about to toss it on the altar, but then caught himself. Instead, he bowed his head and placed it there with exaggerated reverence.