Face Shot (part 3)

     I shouldn't have called Vince.
     "Yadda-yadda, yadda!"
     "No, I can't chill, okay?  I'm in Oman, it's a hundred degrees here, and I have a prisoner!  What do I do?"  It went on like that for a couple of minutes, but he had no more idea what to do than me, less even, so I finally just hung up.  Maybe I shouldn't have dragged her up here.  Now I had to figure out how to handle the situation.
     While I was thinking I inspected the hide.  Solar cells were good, active camo arrays good, everything was in place and ready for the party.  Last I pulled Baby from the case; Baby was my XM2010 Enhanced Sniper Rifle.  I checked the fat telescopic sight/gun camera for power and bluetooth connection.  
     If everything went right, within ten seconds of me pulling the trigger an image of my target's head exploding would be in my editor's email via the sat-link.  Shortly thereafter my big check would be in the bank.  Baby was ready, but I still had something to do.  I squatted beside the woman and got out my knife.   
     "Look, I'm gonna be straight with you and you better be straight with me."  I waggled the blade close to her face.  "I'm a gun-cam paparazzi.  I'm here to get the shot and make some money.  If you mess me up in any way, shape, or form, I'll kill you.  Got it?"  I didn't wait for her response, just ripped the duct tape off her mouth.
     "Mercenary bastard," she practically spat.
     "Guilty on both counts."  I worked up a good glare.  "Tell me who you are and why you're here, or we add 'murderer of girls too stupid to answer questions' to my crimes."  She glared back without fear.  Under the sand and bruises she wasn't a bad looking girl.  Dark eyes, dusky skin, wavy black hair - I figured she was maybe Palestinian or Israeli.  I could tell pride wouldn't let her stay quiet.  Finally she tossed her hair and spoke.
     "I am an investigator for the International Criminal Court," she announced calmly.
     "Really?"  That might explain the lack of weapons.  "Then why are you here without an arrest team?"  That struck a nerve.
     "Nobody believed my intelligence that Saif Gadhafi was in Oman," she snapped, then looked away.
     "Well, the good news is you're right, bad news is me."  I still didn't have any idea what to do with her.  Actually, I had plenty of ideas, but most of'em weren't pretty.  
     Then the road sensor buzzed again.  Son of a bitch.