4
Shanti gasped as the helicopter lurched upward and banked hard toward the east, her stomach seeming to drop as if she were on a roller coaster.
BAM!
An explosion behind them made her pulse skyrocket, a shudder passing through the helicopter. She heard Connor speak into his mic, realized she was clutching his arm.
“I say again, we are taking RPG fire. No damage. The suspects are two unidentified males. How copy?”
“Wh-what’s an RPG?” Shanti asked.
“Rocket-propelled grenade,” Connor answered.
Pauline’s face was pale, but her voice was calm. “Have them contact Nayapara security. Maybe we can catch them.”
Connor reached for his handset again. “Cobra, Team One. Contact security at Nayapara camp. The males are running east toward the Naf River at the south end of the camp. One is wearing a green shirt, the other a red. How copy?”
“The Naf River is the border between Bangladesh and Myanmar,” Pauline told Shanti. “If they cross the border, no one will be able to touch them.”
“Cowards,” Malik said, looking toward the ground. “They think they can take a cheap shot at us and run?”
Connor glanced over at him. “Yeah, well, they’re right. We’re not setting down to pursue.”
“Too bad,” Dylan muttered. “Assholes.”
Shanti struggled to keep up with what was happening, adrenaline making it hard to think. “Did someone just try to shoot us down?”
“Yeah,” said Connor, as if this was something that happened every so often, “but they missed.”
“Thank goodness for that!”
Connor spoke to the pilot. “Good flying there. Quick reflexes.”
“I never thought I’d be getting shot at here.” The pilot laughed, a note of relief in his voice. “I’ll maintain this altitude until we reach the airport.”
“Roger that.” Connor turned to Shanti. “Are you okay?”
She willed herself to let go of him. “Yes. Yes, I’m fine. Just a bit … shaken.”
A big hand covered hers, his touch strangely comforting. “I can’t blame you for that. They’re far behind us now. We’re out of range.”
“It’s a UN helicopter,” Pauline said. “Maybe they don’t like the UN. Insurgents come in from the tribal areas in the Chittagong Hill Tracts to try to recruit sometimes.”
Shanti latched onto this thought. Maybe this wasn’t about her case. Maybe it had nothing to do with her at all.
Connor didn’t seem convinced. “We won’t know who they were or why they fired at us until they’re in custody. Have insurgents fired on UN helicopters before?”
Pauline shook her head. “No.”
Shanti’s stomach knotted.
“We should have flown in our bird. I’m going to need a list of everyone who knew Ms. Lahiri was taking this flight with you today. Can you do that for me, Ms. Montreux?”
“But of course.”
The rest of the flight passed in silence, Shanti’s gaze fixed on the beach below, where tourists played, oblivious to the hardship, suffering, and violence that was mere kilometers away. She hadn’t expected anything like this. She hadn’t even imagined it. She’d wanted to believe that no one would dare to strike at a prosecutor from the International Criminal Court.
Then again, why not? Why wouldn’t they?