“Evening, gentlemen,” he said.
“It’s you . . .” said Yaotl.
“Us,” Sam corrected.
Without a word, Remi climbed from the cart and joined Sam, who told the group, “Everyone act natural. Nothing’s changed. Just three guys hanging around. Big smiles, everyone.”
He and Remi had decided it was best to assume the pad was under observation from the Big Eyes binoculars on the main house’s roof. To avoid arousing suspicion, Yaotl and the other two would have to keep their weapons until Sam and Remi were ready to leave.
“Remi, see what you can do about that light.”
Careful to stay at the edge of its glow, Remi stepped forward and studied the pole. “No switch, but the cables are coming up from the ground. It looks like standard one-ten voltage.”
Sam said, “Nice of Okafor to cut corners for us.” While two-twenty-volt lines carried enough juice to electrocute, one-ten lines carried only enough to cause a painful jolt. “Do you think you can make it to the helo without being seen?”
“I think so. Be right back.”
She walked back down the road and ducked into some bushes alongside the helicopter pad. Thirty seconds later she appeared on the opposite side and, using the helicopter to screen her movements, sprinted to the pilot’s door. With the pilot under her H&K, she retraced her course and returned to where Sam stood. The pilot was a short black man in dark blue coveralls. His expression was one of genuine fear.
Remi said, “The crate’s aboard, all strapped down.”
Yaotl asked Sam, “Where’s Rivera?”
“Napping.”
The guard moved his hand, trying surreptitiously to unsling his AK-74. Sam raised the gun and pointed it at his head. “Don’t,” Sam said, then added in Swahili: “Usifanye hivyo!” The guard stopped, let his hand drop.
“Remi, do you have them?”
“I have them.”
Sam stepped backward and motioned for the pilot to join him. “What’s your name?”
“Jingaro.”
“You’re Okafor’s pilot.”
“Yes.”
“Your English is good.”
“I went to missionary school.”
“I want you to fly the helicopter for us.”
“I cannot do that.”
“Yes, you can.”
“If I do, Okafor will kill me.”
“If you don’t, I’ll kill you.”
“Not in the same way he will. And perhaps my family, too. Please, I just fly for him, that’s all. I’m not part of this. You see I don’t have a gun. I just fly the helicopter.”
“Are you lying about your family?”
“No, it is the truth. I’m sorry I cannot help you. I do not like Mr. Okafor, but I have no choice.”