Free Code of Conduct by Brad Thor Page B

going to reach for a parachute, why not one spun from platinum?”
    Mordechai let that sink in for several moments.
    “Of course, the other possibility,” Nava suggested, “is that she is trying to make you jealous.”
    “Jealous of what?” he demanded. “There’s nothing to be jealous about.”
    Nava put her hands out. “Okay, don’t get angry.”
    “I’m not angry. I just want this all fixed. There isn’t time to start over again. If she’s not successful, we’re through.”
    “You mean Israel is through.”
    “Israel, the United States, all of us.”
    Now it was Nava’s turn to think. “Maybe there’s another way to motivate her.”
    Mordechai didn’t want to hear it. He cared for Helena. The fact that they were trying to figure out how to manipulate her bothered him. It bothered him even more because none of this should have ever happened. She had failed him and in doing so, he had in turn failed Nava. It was just one enormous cluster fuck.
    “We need to slam a red-hot jolt of adrenaline right into her chest,” Nava continued. “Something that’ll keep her attention no matter what Damien says or does.”
    A million things ran through Mordechai’s mind, and none of them were good. No matter what depraved routes his brain was travelling, it was guaranteed Nava’s were worse. Much worse.
    “What are you thinking?” he asked. “Carrot or stick? Do you want to grab someone from her family?”
    She shook her head. “If we did that, we’d lose her forever. I have a better idea.”
    As Nava crushed out her cigarette and lit another, she explained what she was thinking.
    Mordechai sat there, stunned—not knowing if he could follow through. It was one of the worst things he had ever been asked to do.

CHAPTER 11
----
    C ONGO
    A sh and his team had mapped out a series of guesthouses and ranger stations between Bunia and the Matumaini Clinic. Like a chain of islands in a vast and unstable ocean, they could provide anything from food and rest to communications equipment and sanctuary.
    Because of their encounter with the FRPI rebels, they had decided to backtrack and take a new route. There was no telling what would have been waiting up ahead on the road they had been on. There had to have been more vehicles somewhere. It would have been impossible to move all of the rebels they had encountered in one pickup truck—even as heavily as they filled them with men and supplies in Congo.
    Backtracking had cost them hours. By the time they reached the first ranger station, the rain had stopped, the sun was out, and it was almost time for lunch.
    Jambo was the first one out of the vehicles, pumping the rangers’ hands, smiling and wishing them well in Swahili. He spun a long tale about how the team had managed to get one of the trucks stuck on the way out of Bunia that morning and had spent hours before finally getting it free. They needed to rest and take showers. They had brought their own food and water, but would gladly pay the rangers for their hospitality, as well as for any beer the men might have. Happy to augment their income, the rangers gladly agreed and threw in lunch for free.
    Harvath didn’t like the idea of drinking in the middle of the day, butafter what they had been through, they needed to take some of the edge off. And much like the phony “we’re not carrying any guns” stickers in the Land Cruisers’ windows, drinking beer in the middle of the day sent a message that they were not a threat and had nothing to hide. Harvath had ditched the CARE International door magnets hours ago. There was no telling if the word had gone out among the broader FRPI or not. The less his team advertised, the better.
    There was one shower at the ranger station and the Brits politely offered it to Dr. Decker first. She hadn’t said a word since they had escaped. She had leaned against the window the entire way, eyes closed, pretending to be asleep.
    While they took turns using the shower, they kept an