“He’s dead. And even if he’s not, he’s in too bad a shape to follow those instructions.”

“He’d be motivated, though. And he’s a genius.”

“Yeah,” Rapp said noncommittally.

All of the caches were in place, each containing food, medical supplies, a couple of bottles of Gatorade, and water purification tablets. Most critical, though, was the satellite phone.

There were still a few choppers dropping maps at the boundary of what they’d calculated to be Chism’s maximum range, but that would be done by sunset. Afterward, it would be nothing but lawn chairs, coolers full of soft drinks, and a thousand dollars a minute.

“I’m having charcoal grills flown in later,” Coleman said. “And some meat. Do you have a preference?”

“Maybe a rib eye?”

“No problem. How long are you planning on staying?”

It was a good question. He’d agreed to the job for Irene’s sake, so he had to make an effort. But he also had a fledgling family and a couple of ten-thousand-dollar bikes waiting for him in Cape Town. Coleman was certainly capable of handling an operation like this on his own. It’s what he and his guys did.

“A couple more days. Then you can milk it for as long as Ward will keep writing checks.”

“If I can drag it out another couple of weeks, I might buy a place in Greece. You know, one of those white houses that hangs off a cliff and overlooks the ocean? I’ve always liked Greece. Good olives.”

After ten minutes of silence the phone lying in the dirt between them started to ring and they both looked down at it. The screen was flashing Cache 9.

“You gotta be kidding me,” Coleman muttered as Rapp picked up.

“Yeah?”

While it was vaguely possible that one of Auma’s men had stumbled upon a cache, the idea that they could make this call was far-fetched. The number included digits from Chism’s mother’s birthdate.

“This is David Chism. Who’s this?”

He honestly didn’t even sound that bad. A little breathless and hoarse, but that was about it.

“The guy who’s going to pull you out. Lie down on the ground, don’t move, and don’t make any noise. We’ll be over your position in…” He paused and glanced over at Coleman, who was holding up eight fingers. “Eight minutes.”

“What about my people?”

“What?”

“My people. They’re still alive but they’re not with me. One’s not going to make it much longer.”

“Shut up, David. You’re making too much noise. We’re on our way and once you’re safe, we’ll go back for the others.”

“No.”

“What do you mean, no?”

“You’re not government. I’ve seen your helicopters. You’re mercenaries. And I’m your payday. If you want your money, you pick up all three of us at the same time.”