At first, Rapp thought the sound was some kind of jungle creature he wasn’t familiar with. After a life spent fighting in the Middle East, though, his knowledge of jungle wildlife admittedly wasn’t particularly reliable. Based on his calculations, he should be approaching cache 3, which was the closest viable extraction point. What he didn’t need now was to run into a gorilla, a guerilla, or some sharp-toothed mammal that he’d never heard of. If things could keep going his way for a little longer, he could be back in Cape Town for a late dinner.

The noise took on a metallic ring, forcing him to discard the idea of an animal. It appeared that Auma’s men had managed to find the cache he was headed for and were trying to access the heavy steel case. From the sound of it, they’d resisted the urge to try to shoot the lock off and were instead beating it with a rock.

Not just surprising, but pretty impressive. There was no way anyone could just stumble upon something buried in the middle of the jungle. More likely, Auma had managed to dig up enough background on Chism to decipher the cache’s location. Uganda was right to be afraid of that freak.

Fortunately for Rapp, Auma’s competence fell short of allowing him to decipher the lock’s combination, forcing his men to announce their position for half a mile in every direction. Apparently, being God’s representative on earth wasn’t enough to get him Chism’s ATM pin.

Rapp slowed to a literal crawl, being careful to remain aware of his surroundings and not to get too focused on the sound just ahead. It was possible that they’d summoned friends with better tools and there was no telling what direction they might come from. In the end, though, he made it to what he guessed was twenty feet without incident. Close enough to hear the unintelligible conversation between what he determined were two men—probably about whose turn it was to tear their arm off hammering on the lock. As the exchange got more heated, he texted Coleman that he was in position. The extraction point that corresponded with cache 3 was only about fifteen yards from the strongbox, though, suggesting it would be necessary to deal with the men before his people arrived.

Coleman responded almost immediately.

UNDERSTOOD. CACHE 3. SIX MINUTES OUT. ISSUES?

TWO TANGOS. STAY HIGH. DON’T RETURN FIRE.

Five minutes, forty-eight seconds later, the dull sound of the chopper blades became audible. Coleman would be in the Airbus H130 they’d rented from a sightseeing company. Not exactly combat capable, but the quietest thing they could find.