How much Nheshal’s men had gleaned from Mustafa remained to be seen. Nheshal had a way of breaking men to give up information. It didn’t matter how brave the individual was; everyone had a threshold.

Undoubtedly, Harry’s own identity was blown, along with their undercover investigation. He didn’t dare return to his rented room for his belongings. Tonight, under the blanket of darkness, he would collect his emergency exit bag down by the pier and hire a boat for Tunisia.

But before he made for the harbor, Harry had one last item of business.

Picking his way through the debris, Harry continued down the rubble-strewn street. His steps faltered beside what had once been a primary school two days ago. Flies buzzed. Parents cried as they dug through the rubble, calling for children buried within. As a father, everything within him yearned to help these families recover the bodies of their children. Harry took two deep breaths, his heart cramping at their anguish. If his own young son had accompanied him to Lebatu, he, too, might be among the fatalities. Harry vowed to return after he completed his mission to help these people.

In the distance, the rat tat tat of distant gunfire sounded where pockets of resistance fighters still held out against the more sophisticated weapons of the guerilla army. It was only a matter of time until Tritus, the capital, completely fell into General Nheshal’s hands.

The hot northerly wind gusted into the city off the Sahara. Harry gripped the hood of his djellaba to keep it from slipping off his head and exposing his skin. On a day like today, that could mean life or death. Rounding the block, he assured himself of multiple escape routes before heading toward the location where Mustafa had been taken.

Last night, when Mustafa left to scout the area, Harry had intercepted a private transmission. By replaying the recorded call, he had deciphered the coded message. Another overseas munitions shipment was en route to Deljabar, adding to Nheshal’s cache.

Whoever had supplied Nheshal’s stockpile remained a mystery, and HM’s Secret Intelligence Service, SIS, needed that information to assimilate the politics behind this unexpected coup.

No fighting had touched the interior of the Deljabar sector, but most citizens remained indoors—which made it difficult for Harry to reconnoiter the streets, thus impeding his search for the weapons. The best idea he could come up with was to book a room with rooftop privileges to map out the area and determine his options.

Using the heavy vernacular, Harry rented a place not far from the market, then climbed to the rooftop, sheltering under a sunshade. Somewhere among these homes, Nheshal must have cached his weapons. The general had doubtless set a guard to protect his assets. All Harry had to do was locate that guard.