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U nbelievable. Just unbelievable.

Alex Dominic lowered the binoculars and shook his head. He had traveled hundreds of miles to visit the African village of Karimu, but there was almost nothing left to see. A few smoldering huts, burned-out wells, and dismembered corpses of men and women.

Sam Rashid, who had accompanied Dominic on this hellishly long journey to the village, raised his camera and snapped a series of pictures. “No children yet. Do you think they were spared?”

“Doubtful. I found several infants who had been butchered and left to die in the chief’s hut.

My guess is that any older children were probably taken and sold to local traffickers.

” Dominic’s jaw clenched. “The attack was just in the past few hours. We still might be able to catch up to the monsters who did this.”

“Where we’ll probably find an entire army of other monsters waiting for us,” Rashid said. “Maybe hundreds of them.”

“I don’t care.” Dominic’s gaze went back to the bloody carnage he’d just discovered. “We’ll find a way to take ’em on anyway.”

“Shit.” Rashid sighed. “I knew you would say that.”

“Am I that predictable?”

“In cases like this, yes. We’ve been through too much together. Besides, I could tell by the look on your face. You’re getting madder by the second.”

“Aren’t you?”

“Of course.” Rashid adjusted his camera lens and snapped another series of photos. “Did you find any other evidence about who did this in any of those huts?”

Dominic nodded. “I found the main weapons cache in that third hut across the way. It came complete with a box of ammo that had very familiar ID marking the bullets. I’ll have to dig a little deeper, but I’ll be able to pin down the arms dealer very soon.

” Dominic pulled the blue kerchief from around his neck and tied it over his nose and mouth.

The odor of burning flesh was overpowering. Shit, he’d hoped to prevent this.

Damn those bastards.

There was a sound behind them!

Dominic drew his Glock automatic from his shoulder holster and spun around.

Nothing but a burning hut and a few smoldering piles that had been living, breathing human beings just hours before.

Dominic cocked his head. It was that sound again.

“What is it?” Rashid whispered.

Dominic nodded toward a sheet of corrugated tin lying on the ground. It moved slightly.

Rashid lowered his camera and drew his own handgun.

Dominic tried to affect a casual stroll as he moved back in the general direction of the rusted tin sheet.

“I’ve seen enough. Let’s make our way back toward the river.

Maybe someone there can tell us where—” Dominic kicked the edge of the sheet, flipping it over.

He raised his gun and pointed it toward two figures crouching underneath.

Two children, a boy and a girl. They couldn’t have been more than eight or nine. Their dirty faces were streaked with tears. They both raised their hands in surrender.

Dominic lowered his gun as he inspected the children for any sign either of them might be carrying a weapon.

There was none.

“Don’t worry,” Dominic said quietly, speaking Swahili. He wasn’t a native speaker like Rashid, but he knew enough to navigate most social situations. “We’re not going to hurt you.”

The boy looked relieved, but the girl seemed distinctly doubtful.

“We’re here to help,” Rashid said. He pulled two water bottles from his pack and handed them over. “What are your names?”

“I’m Zola,” the boy said after gulping down some of the water. “This is Alora. She’s my sister.”

“What happened here?” Dominic asked gently. “Do you know? We need your help.”

“We were staying with our auntie today,” Zola said. “Our mother went to another village to sell quilts that she makes. We heard screaming outside and saw the men and their trucks. They came at us with their guns and machetes.”

Alora was crying. “Our auntie told us to hide outside. We crawled under here and heard her and our cousin screaming. There was blood… Those men were killing everyone for no reason.”

Zola looked around dazedly. “Is anyone else still alive?”

Dominic glanced at a smoldering pile that he knew could be the children’s aunt and cousin. “We haven’t seen anyone else yet. I’m sorry.”

Alora sobbed uncontrollably. “I want my mom!”

“It’s a good thing she wasn’t here,” Dominic said. “We’ll get you to her, don’t worry. But we need to find out everything we can about the people who did this. We’re not going to let them get away with it, I promise you.”

The children were silent for a moment, until Zola finally spoke up. “They all had yellow scarves.”

Dominic and Rashid exchanged a look before turning back to the boy. “Are you sure?” Dominic asked.

Zola nodded. “And they had yellow flags on their trucks.”

“That’s helpful,” Dominic said. “Very helpful, Zola. Have you ever seen these people before? Any of them?”

He shook his head no.

“Did it seem like they were looking for something?”

“No. They just came here and started hacking away with their knives. People were screaming and offering them money and food, but those men didn’t care about that. They just wanted to kill everyone.”

Dominic turned toward Rashid and whispered, “Sounds like Zakira’s followers.”

Rashid nodded. “I’d bet on it. All it would take is for the village elders here to turn down Zakira’s invitation to join his flock. He’d wipe them out without thinking twice.”

“I’m familiar with their tactics,” Dominic said. “But it’s strange… Zakira’s armies usually leave at least a few warriors behind for a few hours to eliminate residents who might have been away.”

As if on cue, a truck engine sounded in the distance.

“You were saying?” Rashid turned toward the sound.

“Get down!” Dominic crouched next to the two children and grabbed the large sheet of tin. “Come on, get back under. All of us. Now!”

Dominic and Rashid slid underneath the tin sheet with the children and listened as the truck roared closer.

They peered through openings in the panel and saw a beat-up old pickup truck with a machine gun mounted in the bed.

Two men rode in the cab, and another manned the gun.

A yellow flag flew from the car’s antenna, and each of the men wore a yellow bandanna around his head.

“Zakira’s crew, all right,” Dominic said.

“We were lucky to get here,” Rashid said. “They’re probably patrolling the village and the surrounding areas.”

“They were lucky we didn’t see them earlier,” Dominic said grimly. “But their luck has just run out.”

“What’s your plan?” Rashid glanced at Dominic’s set expression and then watched as he grabbed his knapsack and unzipped it.

“Just a little welcome party. I don’t like the idea of them having all the fun. You stay here and keep an eye on those kids.”

“Maybe we should both stay here with them,” Rashid suggested tentatively. “After the patrol passes, we can probably slide down the ridge without being seen.”

“If my plan doesn’t work, feel free to do that,” Dominic said absently as his gaze narrowed on the patrol.

Rashid shook his head resignedly. “Dominic…”

But Dominic climbed out from under the tin sheet and ran toward the muddy road.

He reached into his pack and tossed half a dozen black disks to the ground.

They were each about the diameter of a hockey puck, but half the thickness.

He’d been assured these latest models would work, but the field tests showed mixed results.

He was about to find out for himself.

The truck was already a quarter mile down the road, but the gunner had clearly spotted him and told the driver. The vehicle spun around and raced back.

It skidded to a stop just ten yards away. The truck’s occupants stared as if trying to size him up.

Dominic smiled and spoke English to the men. “What happened to this place? I was just here last week, and it didn’t look anything like this!”

The three men didn’t smile. It appeared that the driver was the only one who spoke English, as the other two immediately looked to him for a translation.

“Who are you?” the driver said in heavily accented English.

“Just passing through.” Dominic was still smiling. “Didn’t know I was passing through a war zone. Think you fellas could give me a ride?”

The driver translated for the other two, and all three men burst out laughing. Dominic laughed with them.

The passenger climbed out of the truck and pulled a large handgun from his shoulder holster.

“Whoa whoa whoa!” Dominic raised his hands in surrender. “Okay, don’t give me a ride. No problem.”

The man leveled his gun at Dominic.

Dominic spoke a command under his breath, just loud enough to be picked up by his wristwatch: “Initiate.”

BOOM! An explosion blew the man apart. Pieces of him splattered across the truck’s windshield.

The driver and gunner screamed at each other as they reached for their own weapons.

“Initiate,” Dominic repeated softly.

BOOM-BOOM-BOOM! A series of explosions destroyed the pickup truck and its occupants, triggered by the command and motion sensors embedded in the ordnance pucks Dominic had littered on the road.

Uh-oh.

The gunner had survived the blast, perhaps partially shielded by the truck. Blood covered his head and face, but he still had enough strength to raise an automatic rifle and fire it.

Dominic dove behind the flaming wreckage of the pickup truck, where he found a handgun that had been pointed at him just moments earlier.

When he picked up the gun, he realized a hand was still gripping it, completely detached from the rest of the assailant’s body.

He tried to pry the fingers free, but they were locked in a death grip.

The man with the rifle jumped from around the burning wreckage and fired wildly. Dominic raised the detached hand and pressed the dead man’s finger over the trigger.

BLAM! BLAM!

Two bullets went into the man’s chest. The attacker fell to the ground, dead.