and made his way to the door. As he opened it, he thanked her again.
Jess sat at her desk for a moment, her mind racing. The CIA in Juba! She had heard rumors but nothing concrete. This could be the support Garang was looking for, but what if it was a trap? What if the CIA wanted to arrest him and take him back to the US? She took her cell phone from her jeans and started to type a text message. Garang would know what to do.
Chapter 18
10km North of Juba, South Sudan
Bishop guided the Bowler slowly up a dirt track. At low revs the engine was barely discernible over the hissing sound of grass rubbing against the side of the four-wheel drive. Fresh tire tracks indicated that vehicles had passed through in the last few hours. The path was not worn enough to indicate it was used regularly.
Mirza sat in the back, his AK on his lap, ready to deal with any potential threats. Jess sat in the passenger seat. They had dropped off supplies at the clinic and picked her up. She had directed them out of town and now they were headed north on a sandy track.
"If you're cold there's a jacket in the back." Bishop kept his eye on the track. "Mirza, can you give Jess my puff jacket?"
The sun had only just crept over the horizon and the air was still cool. The wind flowing into the Wildcat through the open sides had a bite to it. Mirza handed the jacket forward and Jess draped it over her legs.
"Thank you." She smiled gratefully.
"So what brought you to the Sudan, Jess?" asked Bishop. "And an airplane is not an acceptable answer."
She laughed. "I guess I wanted to make a difference. The idea of working in California didn't appeal to me. I wanted to do more than treat bunions and cankers so I hooked up with an NGO and here I am."
"Wow, big leap from California to here. Lots of sun but no beaches."
"I do miss that, but like I said I wanted to make a difference. What about you, Aden? Have you always worked for the Agency?"
"Spent a bit of time in the Army. I've always been in this line of work. The opposite to what you do, I guess."
"But equally as important."
Bishop shot her a questioning glance. "Not many doctors would have that view, especially ones that work for NGOs."
Jess brushed her hair from her face. "I'm not naive, Aden. My dad was a soldier. He had a favourite quote: George Orwell, if I remember correctly. Something about resting safe in our beds because rough men stand ready in the night to inflict violence on those who would do us harm."
"One of my favorites."
Jess laughed. "Of course it is, because you're one of them, Aden. The rough men that keep us safe."
They drove in silence for a few minutes before the Wildcat's GPS computer buzzed.
"We should be pretty close, yeah?" asked Bishop. "We're almost on top of the coords you gave us."
"Nearly there," said Jess.
They dipped down into a dry creek bed and Bishop gunned the engine slightly to propel them up the other side. As they crested, the track hooked to the right revealing a barricade of wood held together with barbed wire.
The cobbled together barrier was manned by two Africans armed with AK47s. They waved for the vehicle to stop and waited as the Wildcat pulled over to the side of the road.
One of the men covered the vehicle with his weapon while the other walked up to the passenger side, his AK held casually in one hand. As he got closer he recognized Jess. "Ah, Doctor Hutton, how are you?"
"I'm good David. How are you? We are here to see Garang. These men are friends."
"You are the CIA, yes?" the African asked.
Mirza looked at Bishop who shrugged. "Yeah that's us."
"That is good. We have been told to let you
Jess sat at her desk for a moment, her mind racing. The CIA in Juba! She had heard rumors but nothing concrete. This could be the support Garang was looking for, but what if it was a trap? What if the CIA wanted to arrest him and take him back to the US? She took her cell phone from her jeans and started to type a text message. Garang would know what to do.
Chapter 18
10km North of Juba, South Sudan
Bishop guided the Bowler slowly up a dirt track. At low revs the engine was barely discernible over the hissing sound of grass rubbing against the side of the four-wheel drive. Fresh tire tracks indicated that vehicles had passed through in the last few hours. The path was not worn enough to indicate it was used regularly.
Mirza sat in the back, his AK on his lap, ready to deal with any potential threats. Jess sat in the passenger seat. They had dropped off supplies at the clinic and picked her up. She had directed them out of town and now they were headed north on a sandy track.
"If you're cold there's a jacket in the back." Bishop kept his eye on the track. "Mirza, can you give Jess my puff jacket?"
The sun had only just crept over the horizon and the air was still cool. The wind flowing into the Wildcat through the open sides had a bite to it. Mirza handed the jacket forward and Jess draped it over her legs.
"Thank you." She smiled gratefully.
"So what brought you to the Sudan, Jess?" asked Bishop. "And an airplane is not an acceptable answer."
She laughed. "I guess I wanted to make a difference. The idea of working in California didn't appeal to me. I wanted to do more than treat bunions and cankers so I hooked up with an NGO and here I am."
"Wow, big leap from California to here. Lots of sun but no beaches."
"I do miss that, but like I said I wanted to make a difference. What about you, Aden? Have you always worked for the Agency?"
"Spent a bit of time in the Army. I've always been in this line of work. The opposite to what you do, I guess."
"But equally as important."
Bishop shot her a questioning glance. "Not many doctors would have that view, especially ones that work for NGOs."
Jess brushed her hair from her face. "I'm not naive, Aden. My dad was a soldier. He had a favourite quote: George Orwell, if I remember correctly. Something about resting safe in our beds because rough men stand ready in the night to inflict violence on those who would do us harm."
"One of my favorites."
Jess laughed. "Of course it is, because you're one of them, Aden. The rough men that keep us safe."
They drove in silence for a few minutes before the Wildcat's GPS computer buzzed.
"We should be pretty close, yeah?" asked Bishop. "We're almost on top of the coords you gave us."
"Nearly there," said Jess.
They dipped down into a dry creek bed and Bishop gunned the engine slightly to propel them up the other side. As they crested, the track hooked to the right revealing a barricade of wood held together with barbed wire.
The cobbled together barrier was manned by two Africans armed with AK47s. They waved for the vehicle to stop and waited as the Wildcat pulled over to the side of the road.
One of the men covered the vehicle with his weapon while the other walked up to the passenger side, his AK held casually in one hand. As he got closer he recognized Jess. "Ah, Doctor Hutton, how are you?"
"I'm good David. How are you? We are here to see Garang. These men are friends."
"You are the CIA, yes?" the African asked.
Mirza looked at Bishop who shrugged. "Yeah that's us."
"That is good. We have been told to let you
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