Page 74 of Clive Cussler Ghost Soldier
Raven fished the satellite phone out of her pack and walked it over to him.
Ramadani slung his weapon, then booted up the phone. It squelched. He nodded. “Good.”
“He’d like to hear from you as soon as possible. Make sure you’re okay.”
Ramadani snorted. “I’m not his woman.”
“He said you saved his life back in the day. I think he’s just trying to return the favor.”
“Why did he send you?”
“We need your help.”
“What do you want?”
“We’re trying to find the Salafists up here on this mountain. More importantly, we want to find any guns they might have.”
Ramadani spit. “I hate those pigs.”
“Are they the ones that wrecked your camp?”
“They hunt me all the time. Not a problem. But I got careless. I won’t make that mistake again. Why are you hunting them? Are you CIA?”
Raven shook her head. “No. We’re just trying to find out where they get their guns from. Maybe stop the supply if we can.”
Ramadani pulled off his ruck and transferred the carton of cigarettes into it as Raven pulled out the pack of MREs and salamis. She handed those to him and he loaded them into his ruck before slinging it back onto his shoulders.
“Follow me.”
37
Ramadani led them another two miles up the steep mountain, nimble and quick as a mountain goat and trailing a cloud of cigarette smoke the entire way. Even MacD, a former Ranger in superb condition, had a hard time keeping up with him.
The Kosovar tossed his cigarette and motioned them into silence as they climbed their way up the last fifty yards on a nearly vertical track, scrambling over rocks and fallen logs. He approached the rocky crest and whispered to Raven. She translated for MacD.
“There are thirteen of them in this band. Their base is a cave on the other side of these rocks on a little plateau. Everything we’re looking for is in that cave.”
Raven and MacD crept close to the tumbled rocks and peered over the edge. They were facing due north.
There were, indeed, thirteen jihadis gathered around the camp fronting a large cave. Several sat by the fire, others were smoking and cleaning their rifles, and two sat on camp chairs just inside the mouth of the cave, their American M4 carbines perched in their laps.
“Too many to take on,” MacD said. Raven translated for Ramadani.
The big Kosovar grunted. “I thought you Americans were tough.”
Raven translated.
“Tough. Not stupid,” MacD said.
Ramadani smiled and nodded to the two Americans before speeding back down the steep track. Ten yards down he suddenly dashed west into the woods.
“You think our fella chickened out?” MacD whispered as he opened his pack.
“We’ll find out soon enough.” Raven grabbed her weapon.
Moments later, a grenade exploded in the distance and shots rang out from an AK.
MacD and Raven both grinned.
