“Call for help,” she said simply. Desmond sensed that she didn’t want to elaborate—perhaps because her most recent plans had been so thoroughly questioned and amended by her passengers.

“Where’re we headed?” Peyton asked.

“Mombasa.”

Peyton squinted. “There’s no American embassy in Mombasa. Or even a consulate. It was in my CDC briefing. In fact, no Western nations have embassies or consulates in the city. It’s too dangerous; they all pulled out years ago.”

A pause, then Avery said, “At the bus depot, there’s a locker with a field kit in it.”

“How does that help us?” Desmond asked.

“There’s a satphone inside. I’ll call my handler. He’ll arrange exfil.”

Her handler? Desmond thought.

On Peyton’s face, he saw scrutiny. She didn’t trust the other woman.

“You didn’t bring a satphone with you?” Peyton asked.

“I couldn’t get my hands on one,” Avery said. “We were under a comm blackout on the ship.” She motioned to Desmond. “You saw the high security around even using a cell phone—they were under lock and key. Plus, they could have tracked any satphone I took off the ship.”

“So assuming we get to the locker and make contact, how do we get out of Mombasa?” Desmond asked.

“There’s a Kenyan naval base and a large airport.”

“There are also several good hospitals,” Peyton said. “The Aga Khan Hospital would be my first choice.”

Avery shook her head. “Look, I disabled the Kentaro Maru’s other helo, but Conner McClain is very smart, and he knows we have an injured person on board. By now, he’ll have hired every crooked cop, mercenary, and bounty hunter in Mombasa, and every other coastal town, to try to find us. And the first places they’ll stake out will be the hospitals and airports.”

Peyton was about to launch her rebuttal when smoke on the horizon caught their attention.

Mombasa was burning.

Chapter 63

Chapter 63

The smoke cloud over Mombasa was so thick, they couldn’t see the city. But after a few minutes of debate, Desmond, Peyton, and Avery agreed that it was still their best hope of reaching help and getting out of Kenya.

Desmond sat back against the helicopter’s rear wall and closed his eyes. The sight of the city on the coast reminded him of another place, what seemed like another life to him. And somehow, it also reminded him of Peyton, though the memory of her was just a feeling. He sensed that seeing her—touching her on the helicopter and during the escape—had been a sort of key to unlocking another memory.