Sting of the Scorpion

A bullet-riddled twin Cessna flying over the barren sandstone plateau of the Nubian Desert is not where Kristina Anderson wanted to be. Someone had paid to have her killed. That was a brittle fact. But what really freaked her was the elaborate scheme that had suckered her into an African civil war where no cops would ever investigate her murder. Who wanted her dead? For what reason? She was a young woman who had been accepted to study medicine at Johns Hopkins University in Baltimore. She had no political alliances. She was a threat to no one that she could imagine. Answers were tantalizingly illusive and shrouded by maddening walls of secrecy. Lieutenant J. G. Kevin Winslow had warned her that she was gambling with danger, but youthful exuberance, curiosity, and dogged determination to find answers trumped common sense. How had she fallen into this so innocently?