51
Pope shook the GPS tracker in frustration. ‘Stupid thing’s on the blink,’ he said into his radio headset. As the screen froze grey and a black wheel of death buffered until the end of time, he slapped it for the tenth time.
‘Because that’s going to make it better,’ Lim replied with her usual droll wit into a headset of her own.
The Chinese agent worked the stick and banked left, away from the highway and across the desert floor.
‘Gotta do something,’ Pope muttered, turning the device over in his hand. ‘Must be low on charge.’
‘Or out of range,’ Lim said. ‘What’s the maximum distance?’
‘You’re asking me?’ Pope replied, as if he knew anything about GPS nano-trackers. He looked out through the bulbous windscreen of the cockpit at boulders and scrub rushing beneath the belly of the Hu
