When Chism pulled up to the front of the facility’s research wing, Mukisa Odongo was waiting for him out front. The former Ugandan army doctor was a rock in every way. At fifty, his six-foot-five frame was still intimidatingly solid, and his eyes had a way of ferreting out any employee not giving one hundred percent. Despite the fact that the man was yet another gift from God, Chism was a little afraid of him. In theory, this was his operation, but everybody knew Odongo ran it. Probably to the benefit of all those involved, frankly.

“What’s up, Muki?” Chism said as he climbed out of the Land Cruiser. “It’s a gorgeous day, our last trials went even better than expected, and the birds are singing. Why do you always look so unhappy?”

“We’re hearing rumors of guerrilla activity in the area.”

“Finally! I’ve got my backpack in the car. Let’s give ourselves a couple days off and go check ’em out.”

“Not gorilla activity, David. Guerrilla activity. Terrorists.”

Chism froze. “Auma? No way. He never comes this far east.”

“Gideon comes and goes as he pleases.”

Gideon Auma was a psychopath who had a category all to himself. He’d spent years building his clandestine army from a small, twisted cult into a force capable of wreaking havoc on the local population. He burned villages, kidnapped children, and generally raped, tortured, and mutilated his way across the region.

Terrorist activity had been a consideration in the placement of this hospital, prompting them to locate it as far east as the terrain would allow. Auma preferred to stick close to the dense forests around the Congolese border, crossing back and forth in a conscious effort to use the animosity between the DRC and Uganda to prevent any kind of coordinated action.

“Are we talking credible rumors or just the normal gossip?”

“That’s what I’m trying to determine,” Odongo said. “Right now, we’re doing an additional backup of the computer systems and categorizing all critical research items for potential emergency removal. We’ll have trucks here on standby tomorrow.”

“You think that’s necessary?”

“Probably not. The truth is that we’ve treated a number of Auma’s people in the time we’ve been here. Combat wounds, disease, drug overdoses… Our continued operations benefit him more than an attack on us.”

“We treat his people? Why didn’t I know that?”

“It’s not your business, David. You don’t understand my country. In Uganda, peace is a delicate balancing act. Taking sides isn’t wise.”

“Even against the devil?”

The African ran a hand thoughtfully across his cleanly shaven head. “Yes, my friend. Even against the devil.”

The stark white hallway was empty, as were most of the rooms it serviced. Apparently, everyone who could walk under their own power had decided to bug out back to their villages.