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obviously intended to lower the radar profile. He took an LED flashlight from his pocket and ran its beam over the wreckage. The antennas might be hidden under the wreckage; they would be on the top of the aircraft most likely, where they could receive signals from satellites. But where was the sensor pod with its cameras?
    Integrated into the hull. The material seemed almost porous.
    The two Brothers who’d accompanied him came over the hill, huffing for breath. They slid down the ravine on the sides of their feet.
    “Careful,” said Li Han, forgetting for a moment and speaking in his native Mandarin.
    They looked at him sheepishly.
    “We must get the wreckage out of here before the satellite comes,” he said, switching to English. “Before it is dawn. We have only three hours. Do you understand?”
    The taller one, Amara of Yujst—they all had odd, African names—said something in Arabic.
    “Pick it up and carry it out,” Li Han told him, still in English.
    “It will be heavy,” said Amara.
    “Then get more help,” said Li Han.

Chapter 10
    Western Ethiopia
    “W e’ve been targeting him,” said Damian Jordan, pointing at the hazy black-and-white image of an Asian man on the screen. “Mao Man.”
    “Sounds archaeological,” said Danny, looking at the face.
    “Li Han,” said Nuri coldly.
    “You know who he is?” asked Jordan. He cracked his knuckles, right hand first, then left. The sound echoed in the room. Except for a pair of cots and a mobile workstation, the room was empty.
    “I never heard him called Mao Man,” said Nuri. “But I know who he is. He’s a technical expert, and a weapons dealer. A real humanitarian. You’ve heard of A.Q. Khan, right?”
    Khan was the Pakistani scientist who had helped Iran—and possibly others—develop their own nuclear weapons program.
    “This guy is similar, except he’s Chinese,” said Nuri. “He had some sort of falling out with the government and military. Probably over money. Anyway, he’s been in a number of places in the last few years, selling his services. He’s pretty smart. And absolutely no morals.” Nuri turned to Jordan. “He has a team here?”
    “Not a team. He’s working with the Sudan Brotherhood.”
    “Lovely.” Nuri turned back to Danny. “Muslim fanatic group. Gets some money and help from al Qaeda.”
    “I don’t know about the link—” started Jordan.
    “I do,” said Nuri flatly.
    “Well you know more than me,” said Jordan. “All I know is we’re targeting this guy. It’s a noncontact situation.”
    Nuri frowned. “How long?”
    “We’ve been here almost five weeks,” said Jordan. “Most of that time was getting the aircraft ready, though. We only just started tracking him.”
    Jordan began briefing them on Raven, an armed UAV they had used to track Mao Man. Its function was similar to Reaper—the armed Predator drones—but it was newer, more capable.
    “How?” asked Danny.
    Jordan shrugged. “Faster. A little smaller. More robust.”
    Nuri snorted.
    “This was its first mission,” said Jordan. “Really more of a shakedown cruise. They picked a quiet area for a maiden flight. Afghanistan was too hot.”
    “Yeah,” sneered Nuri.
    “Have to try it somewhere,” said Jordan. “It wasn’t my choice. There was some sort of mechanical problem about a third of the way through the mission. There were temperature spikes in the right engine. My guess is that there was impurity in the fuel and something blew in the chamber. The power profiles were off, and we got a lot of ambient sound, kind of like you’d get in a car if there was a hole in the muffler. It may have been loud—that’s what may have tipped off Mao Man and the guerrillas he’s working with. Or maybe they heard the Predator, or saw something somehow. Anyway, they came out of the mine and fired a couple of MPADs—shoulder-launched antiaircraft missiles. It was a Stinger Block 2.”
    “An American missile?” asked Danny.
    “Oh