“And here we are,” Hannah’s sarcastic tone had not abated in the last seventeen hours. She knew it, but couldn’t seem to turn it back off. Jesse crashing his helicopter in the Colombian jungle, just because he’d been shot down, had left her feeling equally untethered and also brought out her snarkiest side—at least snarkiest before this.
There, at least they’d been able to walk and fight their way out of the jungle.
Now they were taxiing up to the N’djili Airport terminal, outside of Kinshasa, Democratic Republic of the Congo. As the sunset clamped down on southern Africa, she was still unable to judge exactly how this had happened.
“Camp Bullis Airport,” Isobel had begun many hours and a number of time zones before, on another continent in another hemisphere, “lies just five miles that
