Casey fired two more rounds into the room, striking the wall above the bed and the assassin fired three more rounds, causing Casey to drop to the floor. He heard the sound of a spent magazine being ejected and he moved at that moment, sliding into the room and popping up next to the bed just as the other man was shoving a new mag in and coming up to fire. Casey was waiting for him and drilled him between the eyes.
The relief was short- lived as another burst of fire came through the window from outside. He dropped to the floor and rolled the dead man over, relieving him of his weapon and ammo. There was no other documentation on him. Casey pulled the balaclava from the man’s head and what he saw was not what he expected, a middle- aged white man with a blonde crew cut. He snapped two photos of the man’s face and crawled out of the room, where he saw Ansari propped against the wall holding a towel to his bleeding shoulder and wincing. Ken was nowhere to be seen.
As he was wondering where Ken was, he heard another burst of fire from outside, unsuppressed this time, but no rounds came in the window. By now the situation in the hotel was descending into chaos, guests running for their rooms at the sound of the gunfire and hotel employees coming to the aid of the wounded guest in the corridor. Ken rounded the corner.
“Get him on his feet, we gotta go,” he said, pointing to Ansari, “I got the sniper. Get him to the front door. I’ll get the car.”
Casey helped Ansari to his feet and they started walking toward the front door. Guests and hotel employees were everywhere trying to make sense of what was going on and Casey walked Ansari right through the lobby and out the front door, where Ken was waiting with the car. They put Ansari into the back seat, implored him to hold the towel tight on his wound, and pulled out of the hotel, heading north.
“How’s he doing back there?” Ken asked.
“The bleeding’s slowing down, but I think he’s in shock.”
“We need to get him cleaned up and stable.”
“Can’t we just go to the hospital?”
“Think about that for a second, will you?”
“Uh…okay…never mind.”
“How are you doing?”
“I don’t know. Knee’s hurting a bit…other than that…okay, I guess.”
Ken pulled into the Kay Kay Supermarket and came back a few minutes later with bottled water, alcohol, bandages, and towels. He drove a few more minutes up the road and pulled off at a secluded spot. He pushed Casey out of the way and went to work on Ansari’s wound. In a few minutes he had cleaned the wound and doused it with a copious amount of alcohol before wrapping it tight with bandages and fashioning a sling to keep the arm immobilized.
“That should do for now,” he said to Casey, and then in Arabic to Ansari, “How are you feeling?”
“Who are you? What is going on?” Ansari said.
“We just saved your life. That’s what’s going on. A simple thank you would be in order.”
“Pardon me, I haven’t yet gathered my wits. Everything happened so fast. I am grateful.”
“You mind telling me who would want you dead?”
“I have no idea. I’m just a retired businessman.”
“Well, whoever it is was determined. They might not give up so easily. We need to keep moving.”
“Where are we going?”
“Nairobi. I have friends there. We can get your wound looked at and lay low for a while. Hopefully these guys won’t find us there. You should try to rest.”
Ansari drank half a bottle of water and put his head back and by the time they were on the A108 toward Nairobi he was asleep.
“I didn’t know you spoke Arabic,” Casey said.
“It can come in handy sometimes.”
“Where did you learn it?”
“Got some Muslim friends.”
“I have Mexican friends and my Spanish isn’t that good.”
“It takes work. You might want to give it a try. You know any Arabs?”
“Got two at the office.”
“How you doing?”
“You already asked me that. I’m okay.”
“You did well back there. Lot to learn, but you did well. You’re cool under fire. You never know how that will be until it happens.”
“I…I…killed that guy.”
“You did what you had to do. First one’s always the hardest, but you know what? You hope it never gets easy. Know what I mean?”
“Think so. Happened so fast…I killed him.”
“Well, it was you or him. I’m glad it was him.”
Yeah…me too…feels weird though.”
“Just shows you’re not some psychopath.”
“So how long of a drive do we have?”
“Little over five hours to my place. Then we can get some rest and call Elijah.”
“Who’s Elijah?”
“My co-pilot, and a real good guy, for a Kikuyu.”
“Kikuyu?”
“Another tribe. We have tribes in this country. I’m Luo, he’s Kikuyu. We’re not supposed to like each other, but we do.”
“So, your tribes don’t like each other?”
“Yeah, long story. Say, why don’t you grab some rest? You never know when you might need it.”
“Avi always says that.”
“Anything that man says is solid advice. I’ll wake you up when we get to my place.”
It seemed to Casey that he had just drifted off when he was awoken abruptly when Ken slammed on the brakes, swerved, and laid on the horn. He looked up to see two motorcycles in front of them and one to their right.
“Watch where you’re going, you infernal buggers,” Ken said.
“What’s up with the bikes?” Casey asked.
“Stupid boda bodas. Think they own the road.”
The bike from their right side cut in front of them and slowed again while two more took up position to their side and rear. They were forced to an abrupt stop and the riders approached on foot with weapons drawn.
Ken let out a stream of Swahili that could probably not be translated in polite company.
“Keep your mouth shut. You don’t want them finding out you’re an American.”
Ken pulled the keys from the ignition and exited the car with his hands up. Four of the thugs approached and engaged him in a rapid- fire conversation Casey could not understand a word of. Ken handed the keys to one of the men and motioned for Casey to get out of the car. Casey woke up Ansari and they got out, Casey stuffing bottles of water into a small backpack that also held his pistol and ammo. One of the thugs snatched the pack from him and rifled through it, pulling out the pistol. More emphatic speech among the thugs and the one with the pistol thumbed the safety off and pulled the trigger. Nothing. He threw the broken pistol back into the pack and handed it back to Casey. One of the men got in the car and sped off, followed by the remaining boda bodas.
“Well, isn’t this bloody inconvenient,” Ken said.
“What are our options now?” Casey asked.
“We were almost to Mariakani, maybe three kilometers. We can catch the Matatu there.”
“That’s what…nearly two miles? Is he in any shape to walk that far?”
To his credit, Tariq stood there stoically as if getting carjacked late at night in Africa was a routine occurrence. Ken explained the situation to him in Arabic and the three of them set off. The going was slow because of Tariq’s wound and Casey’s knee, but ninety minutes later they arrived in Mariakani and found the stop for the Matatu. When the bus arrived, Ken paid the fare and they boarded. Luckily the bus was not full at this time of night and they laid Tariq down across a seat where he fell asleep almost immediately.
“Good thing I stuffed some cash down my pants before I got out of the car,” Ken said.
“Same thing with my passport. I think they got all of Tariq’s documents though.”
“You care to explain to me why he gave your gun back? Seemed to be working fine back at the hotel.”
“It only fires for me. Coded to m
y fingerprints.”
“Avi’s handiwork?”
“Yep.”
“That explains how you managed to get it here.”
“He had pieces of it all over the inside of my suitcase, in my socks, pants pockets…”
“Probably had you practice taking it apart and putting it back together too.”
“Until I got sick of it. Now I know why.”
“He doesn’t miss a thing.”
“So how long is this thing going to take?”
“We’re probably six hours from Nairobi, then we’ll need another one to get to my place. We can call Elijah when we get to Nairobi and see where he is. Maybe he can pick us up.”
“You can call ahead and have him meet us.”
“With what, the phone those buggers took from me?”
“With this,” Casey said as he pulled the satellite phone from his pants.
“How did you hide that thing? Never mind. I don’t want to know.”
Ken called Elijah Kimathi and recounted what had happened and advised him of their ETA and handed the phone back to Casey. Casey dialed Ahmed’s desk and Jenny picked up on the first ring.
“Casey? What time is it there?”
“Pretty late.”
“How is your vacation?”
“Picked up Dad from the beach. He’s a little under the weather at the moment.”
“Nothing too serious I hope.”
“No, he’ll be okay. Can’t say the same for his house guests. They were pretty bad off.”
“House guests? Relatives?”
“Didn’t look related. I’m sending you a photo. I’ll call you when we reach Nairobi.”
15
Ahmed displayed the photo on one of his monitors, a young man in the prime of his life were it not for the third eye in the middle of his forehead.
“Looks like all that range time paid off,” Avi said.
“So, this is the guy who tried to kill Ansari?” Jenny asked.
“Why would a white man want him dead?” Ahmed asked.
“Probably a mercenary,” Avi said, “no documentation I would guess.”
“We should try to find out who he is,” Jenny said.
“Already working on that. Uploading his face to facial recognition as we speak,” Ahmed said.
“There have to be hundreds of facial recognition databases,” Avi said, “How long will that take?”
“The computer takes care of that. I upload the photo and flag it for facial recognition and it searches every known database.”
“Is that legal?”
“As legal as your extraction plan, or anything else we’ve done around here.”
“So, we just wait for a hit?”
“That’s how it works. Hopefully he comes up somewhere.”
The computer found a match a few minutes later and Ahmed hit a key to display the bio on the big screen. The photo looked to be a decade old, but it was the same man.
“Alexei Popov, former Spetsnaz, born May 2, 1980. Why would the Russians want to kill him?” Jenny asked.
“Follow the money,” Ahmed said, “Let’s see if he’s gotten a paycheck recently. Might take a while.”
“Good idea. Where’s Miriam?”
“In the bunk. Should be back shortly.”
“Okay, we need someone to start focusing on Eastern Europe, see if anyone’s talking. You know any Russian, Avi?”
“Not as fluent as I used to be, but…”
“You can translate anything we might find?”
“I’ll give it a valiant attempt. Another thing that’s been bugging me. When you’re looking for payments to our dearly departed here, you might want to expand that search.”
“What are you thinking?”
“How good was the intel you turned over on the bus station attacks?”
“Good enough to act on.”
“But nothing was done. Do you think the CIA just dropped the ball? That doesn’t pass the smell test.”
“Good thinking. We need to look into that, but it could take a while and I am wiped out. I’ll be in the bunk. Wake me when we hear from Casey, okay?”
The trip to Nairobi was uncomfortable but uneventful. Tariq woke up on occasion and would mumble incoherently before dropping off to sleep again. He was feverish and in need of medical attention, but that would have to wait. Ken slept deeply most of the trip, with his head resting against the window. ‘How in the world can he sleep like that?’ Casey wondered to himself. For his part, he managed a couple hours of rest at most and when they arrived in Nairobi, he was exhausted. Ken woke instantly and spotted Elijah waiting for them. He exited the bus and embraced his friend.
“Habari. Who is your friend here?” Elijah said.
“Elijah, meet Casey, the young man I told you about.”
“Pleased to meet you. I think your friend there needs attention. I know a doctor on the way. Discretion is his middle name. Shall we be off?”
Ten minutes later they stopped at a dilapidated looking cinder block structure in a part of town that had seen better days. An elderly white man came out and smiled broadly when he saw Ken.
“Ken, to what do I owe the pleasure of your visit? I trust you are well?” the old man said in a crisp London accent.
“Nigel, old friend, I am fine, but my friend here…”
“Get him in here quickly before he collapses.”
They brought Tariq inside and got out of the way. Nigel examined the wound, cleaned it, and applied a fresh dressing.
“He was quite fortunate. The bullet, I am assuming it was a bullet, went clean through and did little damage. These antibiotics should help, and he can take these to help bring down the fever. If his condition worsens, feel free to call me.”
“That old doctor didn’t even charge you?” Casey said.
“That’s not just any old doctor, that’s Nigel Mansfield,” Elijah said.
“Best guy in all East Africa if you need patching up,” Ken said, “especially if you want someone to do it without asking questions.”
“You guys go back a ways?”
“You could say that,” Elijah said, “Nigel’s been in Kenya since there wasn’t a Kenya. Not sure how old he is. Guy probably never made near what a doctor should make because he doesn’t turn anybody away. If you can pay, fine. If you can’t, just as good. Used to have a fancy office in the city, but he’s been runnin’ this clinic here for going on 15 years. Anyone comes in with a need, Nigel will do what he can and you pay him when you can. Some people barter with him. I’ve seen folks pay him a goat for delivering a baby. No man alive with a bigger heart than Nigel.”
“Sounds like a great guy. So, he just came here out of medical school? Why here? Could have made a killing in England.”
“Actually son, he could have made more in America. His dad was a missionary. Practically grew up here. Loved the people, went back to England to get all his schooling, came back here a doctor and never left.”
“But how does he still operate if he doesn’t charge anybody?”
“Oh, he charges some, and gets money from some missions board and donations from rich folk, and rumor has it that he gets drugs dropped off by some big dumb Luo.”
“Luo?”
“Ken’s tribe. He tell you about the tribes?”
“Oh…yeah…and your tribe and his aren’t supposed to like each other.”
“Well, there is that. Lot of ill feelings going around. You should come here around an election. Gets pretty ugly. No room for hate between brothers, no matter the tribe.”
“That’s right,” Ken said.
“So, what’s with the tribes?” Casey asked, “Aren’t you all Kenyans anyway?”
“Tribes go back farther than the country, way farther. White folk come in here centuries ago and start drawing boundaries all over, ignoring the ethnic groups. Now you got different tribes supposed to make one country. Gets kinda messy sometimes.”
“But you guys are friends?”
&n
bsp; “Some of us can look past the surface. Some look at Elijah and just see a Kikuyu. I see a brother, simple. You know the Lord, Casey?”
“Uh…yeah…”
“That’s our tribe, simple as that, only tribe that matters. Plus, he’s saved my life more times than I can count, and I figure I’ve saved his sorry butt a few times as well.”
“You must have some interesting stories.”
“Got a few. Most of ‘em can’t be repeated. Lots of stuff going down helping out your friend Dr. Zielinski. We help him out moving stuff around. Other folks don’t want that stuff moved around. Haven’t done anything for him in years, but other people he used to work with…”
“No sense telling the kid too much,” Elijah said.
“He’s working with the Doc, now. Can’t hurt much.”
“Some of that’s still classified.”
“So, where we going?” Casey asked.
“Ken’s place up near Mwea. Nice place on the lake, very discreet. Plane won’t be ready for a day or two. Give our friend a chance to recover some and maybe you can see some animals.”
“Got animals back home.”
“Not like we do here. Good watering hole there. You sit there this evening I can promise you some gazelles, maybe even a zebra or two, and if you’re lucky some of them will end up lunch.”
“You hunt them?”
“Lord, no. Other creatures do though. You’d like that I figure. You Americans like to watch violence, right?”
“You’re stereotyping.”
“Maybe, but all stereotypes have some truth to them, right?”
“I suppose so.”
“Always a bit of truth. You know why Ken got this property? He’s a Luo, and no Luo alive can stand to be too far from the water. Ken would starve without fish.”
“You know I wanted water for the plane,” Ken said.
“Maybe. Other folks have planes that don’t land on water, but not a Luo.”
“You know what Elijah told me one day?” Ken said, “You know where the Lord says he’s building us mansions? Well, when we get there, he’s gonna rent his out and move in with me.”
Wolf Trap (Casey Reddick Book 1) Page 11