Innocent as Sin
A Novel
Chapter One
Africa Late March
Wearing dirty camouflage gear, boots, and insect
repellent, Rand McCree crouched behind the tattered
grass blind. His camera's extreme-long-distance lens
filled the hole cut in the loosely woven grass. Even
though the sun was barely above the eastern horizon,
Rand was sweating. He didn't notice it. In the Demo
cratic Republic of Camgeria, whether it was tropical
coastland or scrubby interior, men sweated. It was how
they knew they were alive.
Through the camera lens Rand watched the rebels-or
freedom fighters, depending on your politics-wait next
to heavy trucks parked just off the south end of the
miserable, barely scraped dirt strip that passed for a
runway in this part of Africa.
Next to him, his twin jerked, kicking the AK-47 lying
between the two men.
"Settle down," Rand said softly. "The plane will be
along eventually."
"Something bit me," Reed muttered.
"Are your shots current?"
"Yeah."
"Then what are you bitching about?"
"I feel like a bush blood bank."
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