The Carolina Coup: Another Rwandan Genocide? (The Jeannine Ryan Series Book 4) (21 page)

“He had over two dozen systems ready for delivery.  Evidently Gutera wasn’t interested in the paperwork.”

Jeannine started to reply, but Bill put his fingers to his lips and signaled her to move out of sight.

They were not alone.  Someone else was in the building.

All was quiet in the Sullivan warehouse.  Bill Hamm crouched behind a crate and held his shotgun ready.  Next to the work bench, Jeannine froze, either unable or unwilling to move.

From behind the crate, Bill pointed at a rusty forklift to the left of the door.

Jeannine stared.  Someone stood in the shadows behind the machine.  She glimpsed a reflection as if from metal.  A gun!  The man, or woman, was armed.

Jeannine found her voice.

“Who are you?  What do you want?”

Bill, hidden from sight by a line of crates, crept towards the intruder.  Whoever was behind the forklift stayed silent.

Jeannine called again.

“Who are you?  What do you want?”

A man leaped from behind the machine, but too late.  Bill Hamm was upon him.

The scuffle ended quickly with the man on the floor and Bill, a shiny .38 caliber revolver in his hand, standing over him.

Jeannine retrieved the shotgun, while Bill  motioned the physically shaken intruder to stand up.

The man, a tall African, addressed Jeannine as if he belonged and she did not.

“What is your name?  What is your business here?”

She gaped. 
Who does he think he is?

She turned to Bill who smiled and shrugged.

Well if Bill doesn’t care, why should I?

“I’m Dr. Ryan, Jeannine Ryan.  I ...”

The man’s eyes widened.

“Not Dr. Ryan from Bethesda?”

“Yes.  Now who are you?”

“Do you remember Angelique Uwimana, a graduate student in computer science at Carolina Tech?  She wrote you about a problem some months ago.  You helped her solve it.”

“Yes, I remember.  I’m that Dr. Ryan.  Now, who are you?”

“I’m Paul Mutabazi, a friend of Angelique’s.  I came here to warn Mr. Sullivan, but Hutu thugs killed him.  I ran away and hid.”

Paul continued.

“Angelique respects you.  That means you cannot be friends of Maximilien Gutera.  Please tell your man to lower my revolver.  Maybe we can help each other.”

For the first time, Bill spoke.

“My name is Hamm, Bill Hamm.  If you don’t want the gun pointed at you, tell me why we should trust you?”

“Because I am Tutsi, like Angelique.  And because like her, my family was killed by the Interahamwe, by thugs who followed Charles Hakizimana, Maximilien Gutera’s father.  Because today, if Maximilien finds me or Angelique, we are dead, if not right away, only because we will first be tortured.”

Jeannine stepped forward and pointed to Sullivan’s body.

“You saw Gutera do this?”

“Not Gutera, one of his men, Louis Makuza.  He’s an expert with the bush knife.  I tried to warn Mr. Sullivan, but there was no time.  They killed him and took the packages.  They had a black Audi with South Carolina Plates.”

Mutabazi turned to Bill Hamm.

“Mr. Hamm, if you help save Angelique from this monster, I can help you.  I know how this Gutera thinks.”

Bill Hamm hesitated.  He doubted Mutabazi could help.

Sensing Bill’s uncertainty, Paul played his trump card.

“Mr. Hamm, Dr. Ryan, do you know that someone followed you here?  He is outside now, watching your minivan.  I saw him take the keys out of the ignition.”

Bill fumbled in his pocket.  The keys were not there. 
Damn!.

“What does this man look like?”

“He’s the same strong build as you, but with brown hair.  He acts like the police.  His car is an Accord.  He hid it out of sight behind those pines.”

Bill thought of the Accord by the roadside that he had thought might be a cop.  Jeannine turned to him.

“‘Brown hair, athletic build, your size,’ that could be that jerk of an FBI agent, Stewart Marks.  He thinks I’m a spy too.  He must have tracked me from Washington.  What will we do?”

Bill stuffed the .38 in his belt.

“I’m not going to shoot an FBI agent doing his job.  We have to give ourselves up.”

Paul Mutabazi grabbed Bill’s arm.

“Wait.  Help me find Angelique, and I can help.  My car is parked in the back and there is a rear exit.  We can leave that way and not be seen.”

Bill pointed at Jack Sullivan’s body.

“I’ll be blamed for him.”

“Not if your FBI man knows about Gutera and pangas.”

Bill turned to Jeannine.

“Maybe this can work, come on.”

“No, my laptop and the documents are in the car.  I can’t leave them.  They’re our ticket to freedom.  One of us must be free to stop Gutera.  That’s you.  I’ll distract Mr. Marks.  Go!”

Bill hesitated, but Jeannine grabbed Sullivan’s notebook and other papers off the work bench and waved him away.

“Now!”

She waited for Bill to reach the rear of the building, before peering through the open doors.

The minivan was apparently as they had left it.  No one was visible.

She waved the notebook above her head and stepped into the open.

“I’m coming out.  Don’t shoot.  I’m not armed.”

A man stepped from behind a pine and flashed a badge.

“Dr. Ryan, remember me?  Agent Stew Marks, FBI.  You’ve led me on a long chase.”

She pointed to the minivan.

“Put the damn badge away.  I know who you are.  Now give me the keys to my car.”

Stew smiled.

“Nice try Dr. Ryan, but you and I both know that William Hamm
aka ‘
Mr. Walter Harmon,’ rented this car.  Your friend is a fugitive, and I have a warrant for his arrest, so drop the charade.”

His words were interrupted by the sound of a motor.  A car burst from around the corner of the warehouse and raced out of sight.  Stew whistled.

“So that’s your guy, Hamm.  After you stood by him all these days, he’s gone and left you to face the music.  Some friend!”

He turned to face her.

“No matter, let him go.  You’re the one I really want.”

Jeannine’s mouth opened wide.  She stared.

Jules Habimana guided the black Audi on Highway 17.  He spoke over his shoulder to Maximilien Gutera seated in back.

“Why do we go to Wilmington?  The tests are at Topsail.”

“Do not question me, Jules.”

Jules frowned and concentrated on the road ahead.  Next to him, in the passenger seat, Louis Makuza faced forward without moving.  He knew better than to question the back seat.

To Louis’ surprise, Maximilien Gutera was expansive.

“Jules, you are a loyal follower.  Thus I will explain.  Professor Shahruk called me from Carolina Technical University.  He had a question about our explosive supplier.  We will meet the professor in Wilmington.  If the question is resolved, then we will proceed to the test on Topsail Island this Wednesday.  After that we will go to Charleston to prepare the rockets for shipment on the
Étoile d’Afrique
.”

Maximilien frowned.

“Jules, I have answered you this one time only.  In the future you will consider that I never act without thought.”

In the passenger seat, an amazed Louis gaped open-mouthed at Jules who fixed his eyes on the highway and drove.

At Sullivan’s warehouse, Jeannine Ryan held out her hand.

“Agent Marks, if it’s me you really want to help, give me the keys to the van.”

“I can’t do that.  Look, I’m here to help your Mr. Hamm too.  He may be innocent.  He might have been framed by the real spy named Hugh Byrd.  I know that Byrd and Tom Holder, tried to kill you at Wayne Johnson’s house on Topsail.  And I know someone downed Holder with a load of buckshot.”

Jeannine paled.  Stew read her thoughts.

“Don’t worry he’s alive.  He’s in the hospital.  Too bad, but he will recover.  Byrd and he are stealing national secrets.  They work for a covert group shielded by the NSA, and they are protected by ultra high clearances, unless and until the NSA disowns them.”

He added.

“But you can forget Byrd for now.  He’s locked up in a county jail by a sheriff and his niece who are still fighting the Civil War.  He’ll be there a few more days at least.  And Holder, he’ll be in rehab at least another month.  Those guys are not our problem.”

Jeannine was silent.  Stew continued.

“Maybe you’ll cooperate if I tell you what I know?  Since your friend, Hamm, emptied Byrd’s safe, the FBI has been investigating both him and Byrd for passing classified information from the NSA to GES, an American subsidiary of a French computer security company.  I’m not cleared that high, but I can read between the lines of the complaint.  I figure that the NSA has broken some sort of encryption they call “RSA” used by the French government, and is decrypting high-level French communications on the sly.

He took a breath.

“Personally, I’m glad the NSA can decrypt French communications, but Byrd sells the NSA information to GES and they’re a problem.  The CEO of GES, is a French national named Denise Guerry.  She sends the decrypted French communiqués to a rogue group in France that is plotting to overthrow the government of Rwanda.  From the decrypted messages, the plotters know that the French government is itching to condemn the current government of Rwanda to the UN, given any suitable pretext.

Stew smiled.

“How am I doing?”

Jeannine stared. 
What he says fits.

He kept going.

“There’s more.  When their government fell in 1994, corrupt Hutu officials pillaged the Rwandan treasury and transferred the money to secret bank accounts in Europe.  Now, GES launders money from those accounts to a Hutu group that the FBI has watched for some months.  The group is in South Carolina, mostly Florence, and has connections to Carolina Technical University.  The assumed leader of the group is Maximilien Gutera.  His father was a major player in the Rwandan genocide.”

He paused.

“My guess is that you and Hamm have discovered this group’s plans and are trying to stop them.”

Jeannine continued to stare.

“Dr. Ryan, now will you believe I want to help?”

When she did not answer, Stew reflected aloud.

“Damn!  I risk my job for a smart, beautiful, woman whom I want to know, but don’t, whose loyalty to a friend has seen her almost killed by a rogue Fed with an M16, who gave herself up so the friend could escape, and who doesn’t seem to realize she’s in danger of being chopped to bits by Hutu rebels.”

Stunned, Jeannine drew away, but he grabbed her wrist.

“It’s true, you’re smart and beautiful too, and I want to help you.  Tell me who or what is in that warehouse.”

Her mind raced. 
Can I trust this guy?  I guess I have to.

“There’s a body, Sullivan, the owner.  He was hacked to death.  You were right.  Maximilien Gutera’s men were here.”

She added.

“And they took the remote guidance modules for their missiles.”

Missiles!

It was Stew’s turn to stare.

Bill Hamm sat in the passenger seat while Paul Mutabazi drove.  Paul spoke.

“Where should we go, Mr. Hamm?”

Bill started.  He was worried about Jeannine.

“We need to go to Topsail Beach.  Sullivan’s notes said that his guidance system would be tested at some missile museum there.  I need to check it out.”

“But I think Angelique may be in Charleston?”

“Paul, as I told you, I don’t know any Angelique.  If you want me to stop Gutera, we have to start at Topsail.”

“Can I have my revolver back.”

“You had it in the warehouse and didn’t use it.  It’s better off with me.  You think before you shoot.  That can get you killed.  I’ll keep the gun.  If we see Gutera’s men, I won’t hesitate.”

Bill changed the subject.

“About this Angelique?  Are you romantically involved.”

“It’s not like that.  We grew up in the same village.  Mr. Mukuru, her father, saved my life during the genocide.”

Paul shuddered and continued.

“I was eleven years old.  He pulled me under him as he fell dying.  The Interahamwe thought I was dead too.”

“Where was Angelique?”

“Her father had sent her to school in Kigali.  He thought she would be safe.  She wasn’t.  She was ten, her little brother was three.  They chopped him to death.  His name was Augustin.”

“But who saved Angelique?”

“God!  It had to be.  There was no one else!”

“You believe that?”

“I do.  Angelique is a Catholic.  She lives her faith.”

“And you?”

“Catholic, but not like her.  I can’t forgive like she does.”