Robert Ludlum's™ the Treadstone Exile by Hood Joshua

Author:Hood, Joshua [Hood, Joshua]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: thriller, Suspense, Mystery
ISBN: 9781789546552
Amazon: 1789546559
Goodreads: 57219017
Publisher: Head of Zeus
Published: 2021-02-02T08:00:00+00:00

26

KORHOGO, IVORY COAST

Hayes stood on the scaffolding in front of the Provider’s engine, sweat pouring down the front of his coveralls as he pushed himself up on his toes. He angled the flashlight to get a better look inside.

Outside the hangar, the day had begun to mellow, the thunderstorm that had blown through two hours before took the teeth out of the heat but added to the humidity. Satisfied with what he found inside the engine, Hayes clicked off the flashlight, stuck it in his pocket, and took a long pull from the liter of bottled water the mechanics had given him.

The water was warm, but it was wet and that was all he cared about.

He screwed the cap on the bottle and took another long, hard look at the plane. Four hours ago, the Provider had more holes in the fuselage than a slice of Swiss cheese, but not only had the team of Ivorian mechanics patched them, they’d come damn close to matching the original paint.

But what really had him stumped was how they’d managed to get the engine back online. But they had.

Hayes cast a quick glance across the hangar, saw Mallory and the general standing on the far side—well out of earshot—and turned to the lead mechanic.

“How?” he asked the man in French.

“Well, we used Bondo to patch the—”

“Yeah, I got that, I mean how did you fix the engine?”

“Magic,” he said.

“Well, I don’t fly on magic, so I guess it’s either you tell me how you pulled it off or I tell General Dábo to find another pilot.”

The smile fell from the mechanic’s face and he raised his hands in defeat. “Fine, fine, no problem,” he said. “The fuel pump took a bullet and some of the fuel lines were nicked by the fragmentation, so I replaced them. Easy, see.”

“You just happened to have spare parts for an engine that was discontinued before you were even born just lying around?”

“Easier if I show you,” the mechanic said.

They climbed down the scaffolding, ducked beneath the prop, and started toward the back of the hangar.

“It hasn’t always been like this,” the mechanic said.

“Like what?” Hayes asked, pulling a rag from his pocket and using it to wipe the sweat from his brow.

“You know, the war, the killing,” he answered, opening the door and stepping outside. “It’s hard to see it now, but there was a time when this was a fully functional airport. A place people actually wanted to come to. But . . .”

“But TIA,” Hayes said, finishing the man’s thought.

“Yep, TIA,” the mechanic nodded.

TIA—This Is Africa.

It was a common expression, one used by Africans and non-Africans alike. A statement that was equal parts endearment and resignation—one that perfectly summed up his current condition and the agreement he’d made with Mallory back in the interrogation room.

From the tone of the conversation, the dispassionate way she’d laid out the facts, it had almost seemed like Hayes had had a choice in the matter. But if there was

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