The takeaway was that Chism and his people hadn’t died in the fire. Based on a couple of eyewitnesses, he would have had to run into the flames and out the back in order to escape. It had been night and the rain was reported as heavy, making it possible for him to reach the forest without being seen. Possible. But plausible?

“You ready to move on, Mitch?”

“Yeah. Nothing much to see. Go ahead and take us into camp.”

The helicopter banked north, heading for one of the tallest peaks in the area. In the distance, Rapp could just make out Lake Edward, which was split about evenly between Uganda and the Democratic Republic of the Congo.

When they reached the mountaintop, Fred Mason swung around in a wide circle. He’d been Rapp’s go-to pilot for a long time and knew that his passenger would want an overview before they set down.

As expected, Scott Coleman had chosen an ideal location for their base of operations. The sides of the mountain were unusually steep and covered in the dense tangle of foliage that was so ubiquitous in the region. The peak, in contrast, was rocky, relatively flat, and contained only a few widely spaced trees. Three choppers were already on the ground and canvas tents of various sizes had been erected, as had solar panels and diesel generators.

Roughly twenty men were setting up equipment, transporting supplies, or had been strategically posted around the clearing. Coleman always ran a tight ship, and this was no exception. It looked like he was only a few hours from having the camp fully online.

Mason landed under the watchful eye of the perimeter guards and Rapp jumped out. Coleman was standing by but didn’t approach, instead waiting for Rapp to emerge from the swirling dust before falling in alongside him.

“Give me a sitrep.”

“We’re in better shape than I would have thought at this point. Twenty-three guys on-site and another twelve en route.”

“Really?” Rapp said, not bothering to hide his surprise. Mercenaries were a dime a dozen, but ones they were willing to work with were rare. Probably no more than fifty worldwide and always booked.

“Yeah. Based on what you told me, I called and asked how much it would cost for them to drop everything and get on a plane. Then I said yes to whatever number they threw at me.”

“Money talks,” Rapp said as they closed in on a large tent near the center of the improvised complex.

“To men, yes. But equipment’s been harder. There’s just not that much in the area.”

“What about the Ugandan government?”