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Mike and Henri used Canadian passports on the flight to Nairobi. His read Mike Emmerson, but Henrietta’s was Annabelle...Emmerson. Yep, according to their paperwork, they were husband and wife. Henri wasn’t impressed, but Mike thought it was a wise move. And their cover would be a lot more believable if they were a couple. They were posing as gem scouts, looking for deals on gems to supply to Canadian jewelers. Wearing baseball caps and keeping their heads down, Mike and Henri stepped out of the private Gulfstream and headed across the tarmac to a pair of tan-colored Land Rovers. A tall African man extended his hand to Mike. “Hey, boss. I was wondering when we’d meet again.”

It was good to see a familiar and smiling face. He shook the offered hand. “You havena aged a day.” Then Mike gestured to Henri. “Hali Obasanjo, meet Annabelle. My...ah...wife.”

Hali waggled his eyebrows. “A woman finally pinned you down, yes, boss?”

Mike cleared his throat and threw an apologetic glance to Henri. “Mm hmm.”

She smiled pleasantly and shook Hali’s hand. “Mike has had nothing but good to say about you.”

The Kenyan thumped his chest. “That’s because I’m boss’ right-hand man. No one keeps him out of trouble like Hali.”

“And he’ll get us across the border, act as master translator, and take care of our backup.” Mike gestured to the front Land Rover with five men, none of whom were smiling. Then he recognized an old friend in the passenger seat of the rear vehicle and waved. “I see Pili’s still with you.”

“Pili will live forever.” Hali opened the rear door for them. “The drive to Arusha should take four hours give or take.”

Mike gestured for Henri to climb in, then slid beside her. “With Hali behind the wheel it should be smooth sailing.”

Except it wasn’t.

A mile before they reached the border town of Namanga, the traffic slowed.

“I dunna like the look of this,” said Mike, craning his neck and estimating the number of cars in the queue.

Hali regarded him in the rearview mirror. “It looks worse ahead, boss. Maybe they can tell us what’s causing the backup in the shop.” He pulled over into a rundown convenience store and opened the Land Rover’s sunroof. “You best stay here with the missus.”

Mike pulled a few bills from his wallet. “Get us a couple of Cokes and a bag of crisps, would ya.”

“Sure thing boss.”

“And water,” said Henri.

Hali gave her a white-toothed grin as he opened his door. “Water is in the cooler in the back, missus.”

After the guide headed for the shop, she reached over the rear seat and pulled out two bottles, handing one to Mike. “Missus? Why can’t he just call me Annie or something equally as irritating?”

Mike cracked open his water and took a long drink. “Missus probably works better than anything. And if the men refer to you that way, it’ll be less likely to draw attention where we dunna want it.”

Her eyebrows slanted inward with her leery look. “Are you still pissed that I’m here?”

“Pissed means you’ve had one too many where I’m from.”

“You’re from Canada, remember? And you’re still pissed. I can feel the irritation oozing off you.” One thing was for certain, he could count on the lass to speak her mind.

Mike snorted. Perhaps he was a wee bit annoyed. He didn’t want Henri there for a boatload of reasons. Aside from the fact that she’d been targeted by Omar Fadli, a man who was rapidly climbing the ISIS chain of command, she was a white woman—well she might be half-Native American but around these parts she was a white bird and no one would give a rat’s arse about her heritage. A white woman in Africa always added complexity to any mission. Christ, things were hard enough walking around with a mop of flaming red hair.

“So, are you just going to sit there and pretend I don’t exist?”

Mike glanced her way. “Sorry. I’ve got a lot on my mind at the moment.” Yeah, he’d been absorbed in his thoughts, but his mind hadn’t been on the op where it bloody should be.

“Like what?”

“Like how we’re going to find Melvut Amri once we arrive in Arusha.”

“Do you think he’s peddling the gems?”

“No doubt.”

“So, I was reading on the plane that there’s actually an Arab/Tanzanian population in Arusha. That the city is the most cosmopolitan in the western part of the country, and it’s a center for trade. Gold, tanzanite, diamonds all trade hands there.”

“Tell me something I dunna already ken.”

“Yep, still pissed.” Henri crossed her arms. “There’s got to be an angle for ISIS, otherwise they wouldn’t be here.”

“Agreed.”

“So what do they need?”

“Guns.”

“Yes, guns and military equipment, but I’m thinking sophisticated stuff.” She drummed her fingers against her lips. “What if they could get their hands on a guided missile system? What about tanks? I wish they were stupid, but they’re not. They can’t blow us out of the Middle East because they can’t come close to matching us in fire power.”

“Thank God, and they never will.”

“Never?”

Mike rubbed his temples. Jet lag had a way of making him tense. “Not at least while we’re alive.”

“You might be right, but they still need money. And they need an industry, or some sort of front that’ll make it for them.”

“So, missus, your theory is that al-Umari and his goons don’t just want to sell the diamonds they stole from Avignon. They have established a business in Tanzania to launder stolen gems and turn them into cash?”

Henri sat back and grinned. “Something like that.”

“Well, if we ever cross the border, you might just discover you’re not far off the mark.”

She elbowed him in the ribs. “See?”

He gave her a pointed look. “But then you could be dead wrong as well.”

She smacked him in the arm. “You’re insufferable.”

“That’s what all the lassies say.”

Her gaze shifted his way and drilled into him, charging the air with tension. “What lassies?”

Before Mike thought up an excuse to avoid answering her question, Hali returned and climbed into the driver’s seat.

“It’s not good news, boss.” He handed back the Cokes, two bags of crisps, and some peanuts.

Mike looked out the window. The traffic alongside the shop had come to a standstill. “It rarely is.”

“Word is the border’s closed. Another trade dispute between Kenya and Tanzania.”

“Damn.” Mike hit the seat back with his fist. “I knew we should have flown in somewhere else.”

Henri snorted, but she kept her mouth shut, which was wise.

“You want I should go bush, boss?”

“Bush? Like through the Serengeti?” asked Henri.

“Didna you see that in your research? The Serengeti is west of us.” Mike knew he was being testy, but going bush was always dangerous and now even more so with a woman, even if she was a sharpshooter. Damn, Amri already had too much of a head start. If they didn’t move now, they’d have no chance at picking up his trail. He flicked his wrist at Hali. “All right then, go bush. Just stay away from any radical militants.”