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his beer.
     
    Trent traveled
northeast on foot towards the Lualaba River. He avoided the roads
servicing the quarries and the security forces travelling on them.
He couldn ’ t risk
an encounter with either the rebels or the government forces. He
had no identification to justify his presence out in the bush by
himself. He didn ’ t
have any plausible deniability for the high tech equipment he
carried. If someone challenged him on the road,
he ’ d be lucky if
they stole all his gear and left him naked in the bush to die. The
unlucky and more likely end to the encounter would include a bullet
in the back of his head from his own gun.
     
    If anyone did get
his kit, they ’ d be
able to sell it for a small fortune at the weapons bazaar Trent
noticed on the outskirts of Kolwezi. He carried enough C4 to blow
up a building. Trident intelligence indicated the CNDP purchased
surplus weapons from arms dealers in Angola and South Africa. If
those weapons got to the front lines, the FDLR might lose the
battle and the Chinese would definitely lose more money. Destroying
the weapons cache en route became the optimal solution. Trent could
facilitate that happy ending, but only if he got to his destination
in one piece.
     
    So he moved at
night, using his night vision goggles to avoid the roving packs of
hyena, jackal, rhino, lion, lowland gorilla and bush elephant who
called this area home. Noticing the multitude of snakes slithering
in the high grass didn ’ t go as well because of their cold blooded bodies, but he
trusted his thick combat boots and BDUs to protect him from
incidental bites.
     
    Trent marched
towards an abandoned mining camp situated along the banks of the
Lualaba River between Lac Nzilo and Lac Delcommune. If
Tolbert ’ s
intelligence reports could be trusted, and that was a big if, then
the camp wouldn ’ t
be abandoned. A CNDP force of undetermined numbers allegedly
guarded the weapons shipment waiting for transport boats to arrive
and move the materiel upriver to the warzone. Trent needed to
insert himself into the camp, plant the C4, extract from the area
and detonate the explosives before the boats arrived. The operation
sounded simple on paper, but operations didn ’ t get executed on paper. Trent
wondered what snafu he ’ d run into this time.
    The target
location turned out to be more mining town than makeshift camp, and
more bustling hub than abandoned facility. He positioned himself on
a ridge overlooking the target and the river after dawn on the
third day. He chose an observation point that gave him a wide view
of his target and concealment from any sentries or foot patrols.
The threat of animal attacks didn ’ t worry him now. The time he spent
in the wild altered his form, color, texture and scent. The animals
treated him like a natural part of the environment. Besides,
animals were wary of troops in the camp and few of them came this
close to a man-made outpost.
     
    Trent watched the camp for the rest
of the day, taking sleep in short snatches in case a patrol came
too close. He examined each building, trying to determine which one
of them held the weapons cache. He chose the best routes for
insertion into and extraction out of the camp, as well as secondary
avenues for escape if things went sideways. He assessed the size,
skill and demeanor of the CDNP forces, trying to figure out the
best way to avoid them if he could and evade them if
necessary.
     
    That ’ s when
Trent found the snafu.
     

Chapter Three: Absence of Malice
     
    “ The camp is
crawling with fucking kids. ”
     
    Talbot ’ s
heavy breathing roared through the sat phone connection. Trent
didn ’ t see him as
a jogger. Drinking beer seemed to be Talbot ’ s only form of exercise. The man
definitely sounded tired now. Trent wondered what he
interrupted.
     
    “ Why the fuck
are you calling me? This is a secure line for emergency
transmissions only. What the hell are you talking
about? ”
     
    “ I ’ m talking
about