Chapter Twenty
Her guardians looked like a band of worn-out desperadoes. Each had on a variation of light-khaki army fatigues, heavy boots, safari hats, and sunglasses as they snoozed in the small charter plane waiting area. Tourists going on the more daring sight-seeing tours huddled nervously away from them, as though Damali's squad were drug-dealing hit men. People eyed the group's bulging duffle bags with suspicion in the oppressive heat.
The only reason that they'd been able to carry their artillery in such an open and flagrant display of firepower, despite the new era of heightened security everywhere in the world, was the fact that this tiny, puddle-jumper, flight school airstrip was off the beaten path
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