“Chuckie knows we’re here,” he said, using the nickname they’d given Chukuwereije’s men. “They found the truck and the bodies and worked it out. Maybe they had a GPS on it or something.”

Rick shoveled three bites into his mouth as he stood. “Right. Police and sanitize this AO. Rendezvous at the doc’s in twenty mikes. Pot Pie? With me. We need to go figure out how to transport Drumstick and Ozzy.”

“One other thing, Daddy,” Fisher said. “They added an order to our evac.” He consulted his notepad. “‘Evac Shortstack—identity compromised.’”

Rick’s heart started pounding. Moving his men would offer enough challenges. Getting Cynthia Myers to go with them willingly because Chukuwereije had discovered who her father was might prove impossible.

He slung his weapon over his shoulder. The doctor could object to its presence, but playing nice had slipped down his list of priorities. He and Fisher walked through the trees and into the clearing. They paused and scanned the area. Nothing appeared out of order. Cautiously, they crossed the clearing and made their way up onto the dirt road. Four kids ran down it, kicking a soccer ball between them. Rick took that as a good sign.

At the medical clinic, Fisher stayed outside while Rick pulled the door open and stepped inside.

Doctor Myers sat at her desk, a laptop open in front of her. She glanced in his direction. “My colleague has confirmed I’m doing everything right. The rest is going to take time.”

He gave a hard shake of his head. “Time’s up. We’re moving.”

She stood. “You can’t move them.”

“Doctor, I hear you. Now you hear me. Chukuwereije knows we’re here. I don’t have enough men to hold back a real attack. The safest thing for the innocent people in this village is to pack up you and my men and get to an exfil landing zone.”

Her eyes widened. “Me?”

He closed his eyes and said a very brief prayer for guidance and patience. “Chukuwereije knows who you are, and I have orders to evacuate you with us.”

As a frown darkened her face and fury filled her eyes, he held up a hand and said, “Look, Doctor Myers. I’d need your help regardless. I am not a doctor. I don’t know what to look for. So whether you were tacked on to my list of duties doesn’t change the fact that I really need you to accompany me and provide care to my men until we can hand them over to some military docs.”

She glanced toward the beds occupied by his men. “I hate the violence that brought you here. I wish none of this had happened.”

“Nevertheless.” After a brief pause, he asked, “How can we transport them?”

“How far do you need to go?”