The Devil's Due (The Blackwell Files Book 5)

by Steven F Freeman

  “I do not know, and I don’t want to find out. The man outside looks angry.”

  “Got any good ideas for getting out of here?” asked David.

  “Walk towards the exit, then when we reach the kitchen door, go through it. We can pass through the kitchen and out the backdoor into the parking lot where our car waits for us.”

  “Yeah, and hope these guys don’t have any buddies waiting for us, too,” said David, even as he began to follow Fahima’s instructions.

  As they neared the kitchen, David could hear the first terrorist approach from behind. Without warning, David spun and cold-cocked the man’s jaw, sending him collapsing to the floor in an unconscious heap.

  The couple bolted through the kitchen door. Running through the claustrophobic space, David grabbed a pot of some dark, bubbling liquid. “Insurance.”

  “But your Beretta—” began Fahima.

  “Too loud,” panted David as he held a hand to the wound on his back. “It’ll alert anyone else in this area who might be looking for us.”

  They burst through the restaurant’s rear door and skidded to a stop in the parking lot. Shouts coming from the building’s nearest side indicated their pursuer had rounded the front corner and trailed them by only seconds.

  David waited behind the rear corner of the building long enough to chuck the scalding liquid into the terrorist’s face before joining Fahima in a sprint for their car.

  They piled inside. David gunned the Mercedes’ engine, sending the vehicle spinning out of the parking lot as it sprayed a rooster tail of gravel. They shot down an alley and made a hard right onto a two-lane road.

  As they turned onto a main thoroughfare, David slowed the car and turned to his wife. “You okay?”

  “Yes. What about you?”

  “I’m fine.” He paused to let his frenetic heart rate subside and the pain in his wound recede. “Good thing there weren’t any more terrorists. I’m fresh out of boiling oil.”

  CHAPTER 54

  At the same time David and Fahima had departed for Gandamak’s Lodge, the others had left to visit Jaweed Bina.

  Kamaal parked in a visitors spot, directly in front of the municipal building. He, Alton, and Mallory entered the building, which resembled a slice of America in the nineteen fifties or sixties. Drop-panel ceilings joined plain, cinderblock walls. Each office door featured a glass window and a nameplate.

  The three approached a main lobby desk, where Kamaal spoke with the receptionist.

  “She says Governor Bina is busy all day. We will have to make an appointment for next week to see him.”

  “Tell her that we have information about a recent string of kidnappings and murders in Kabul,” said Alton. “Tell her we believe this is the act of a new terrorist group, and we seek any information the governor may have about this new group.”

  After Kamaal relayed the information, the receptionist whispered into the phone, then spoke to Kamaal.

  “We can go in now.”

  They traveled down the hallway, their footsteps echoing off dingy linoleum. Kamaal pointed to a door. “This is it.”

  Alton knocked. Not receiving an answer, he swung open the door. A thin man with pitch-black hair and metallic glasses glared at them from behind an imposing mahogany desk. He waved them to a cluster of small, plastic chairs facing him.

  They took a seat.

  “What do you want?” asked Bina in accented English.

  “I’m Alton Blackwell. This is my wife, Mallory, and our friend Kamaal. We came to your city to look for a young friend who was kidnapped. While we’ve been looking for her, we’ve uncovered evidence of a new organization that may have kidnapped nine other girls and murdered at least five of them, maybe more.”

  “The receptionist said you had information about a terrorist organization, not some lunatic abducting and killing girls. Now if you’ll excuse me—”

  “Wait,” said Alton. “This isn’t one guy.”

  “How do you know?”

  “We had a major firefight with the kidnapping organization this morning, right here in Kabul. A friend of mine—a former policeman of yours—was killed in that firefight. The perpetrators were armed with AK-47s and grenades. That meets the definition of a terrorist organization in my book.”

  Bina studied him for a moment. “Do you know the name of this organization?”

  “Just a guess. Based on the symbol they draw on the bodies of their murder victims, we think it may be an organization called the Brotherhood of Stones.”

  Bina drummed his fingers on the desk in front of him. “Would you excuse me for a moment? I would like to hear more, so I will need to reschedule a call that is supposed to begin in a few minutes.” He paced to the corner of the room and activated his cellphone, speaking too low for them to hear.

  He returned. “Tell me how you got into this firefight.”

  It seemed an odd way to begin, but Alton described the sequence of events.

  “You Americans are all the same,” said Bina. “You think you can come here and take over law enforcement. I have news for you. We have our own police for that. Civilians, including Americans, are not authorized to take police actions, especially against organized criminals.”

  “We called the police as soon as we saw the masked men,” said Alton, “and we only returned fire after they started firing at us.”

  “So you say. I wonder if they would tell the same story.”

  “I’m sure a bunch of murderers wearing masks would tell the absolute truth,” said Mallory, exasperated. “Of course, none of the living ones stuck around to make a statement.”

  “You are in my country, Mrs. Blackwell, so don’t speak unless you are spoken to.”

  Alton could feel his hackles rise, but he forced himself to stay on task. He needed the man’s cooperation if he was to rescue Mastana. “Governor Bina, have you heard of this Brotherhood of Stones organization?”

  The man paused. “I have not. There was some kind of Stones cult that existed many centuries ago, at least that’s what I was taught in school. But unless they have managed to rise from the grave, I don’t think they are kidnapping anyone these days.”

  “We didn’t fight ghosts this morning. Those were real people. Have you at least heard of this string of kidnappings?”

  “I have not. I leave such civil affairs for my police force to handle.”

  “But the police are focused on terrorists—on your orders.”

  “Do you presume to tell me how to manage the affairs of my city?”

  “No, sir. I come to you with the proposition that we can help each other.”

  “I don’t see what you have to offer that I would want.”

  “Your police didn’t connect the murders with the Brotherhood of Stones,” said Alton. “My friends and I did. And if you can put someone on your force to look into that lead and share what he learns, we’d be happy to share any additional information we uncover as well.”

  Bina steepled his fingers. “Here is my dilemma, Mr. Blackwell. Do you know how hard it is for a Shiite Muslim to rise to the position of governor in a country dominated by eighty percent Sunnis? Let me tell you, it is not easy. My detractors would love to have another reason to call for my removal. Giving two Americans jurisdiction over an investigation is something they would call into question.”

  “We’re not asking for jurisdiction, just mutual cooperation.”

  “No, Mr. Blackwell, it won’t do. You seem to think my police aren’t capable of solving a major crime like this on their own, and I assure you that they are.”

  “Governor Bina—”

  “That will be all, Mr. Blackwell. Or do I need to call security?”

  The trio rose to leave.

  “So if we uncover more evidence in this case,” said Alton, “should we pass it along to your police force, or are they so good, they’ll already have it?”

  “You are very sure of yourself, but I don’t think you’ll learn anything new here.”


  They exited the governor’s office and moved down the hall.

  “That could have gone better,” said Alton.

  “You tried,” said Mallory, grasping his hand. “I don’t think there was anything else you could have said.”

  They climbed into Kamaal’s Corolla and pulled out of the parking lot.

  “Now what do we do?” asked the interpreter.

  “Let’s go back to your place,” said Alton. “I’ve run some internet searches on the Brotherhood of Stones, but only on public domains. I’d like to try some government databases. Maybe Mallory can check with the FBI and see if they have anything on them.”

  “I already did,” said Mallory. “It came up blank.”

  Kamaal drove onto a bridge spanning the Kabul River on the outskirts of the city. They had just reached the center of the structure when two cars pulled across the bridge, blocking both lanes.

  “It’s a trap,” said Alton. “Turn around—quick!”

  Just as Kamaal slowed and began turning his wheel hard to the left, a trailing car rammed into the side of the Corolla, sending it careening into the guard rail.

  The Corolla died. Kamaal frantically twisted the key over and again, but the engine refused to start.

  “Grab the A-fours, and let’s get out of here!” said Alton, thankful that most of their cache of weapons lay ensconced in Hanif’s Mercedes and Kamaal’s house.

  As Alton grabbed his rifle from the trunk and began to flee, he looked back over his shoulder. The trailing car that had smashed them, an older Taurus, had itself crashed into the opposite guardrail. A brute of a man leapt from the Ford and began to give chase. The distance was too great to discern the man’s features, but Alton could see he was huge.

  While Mallory and Kamaal probably could have outdistanced their pursuer, Alton knew he had no hope. He hobbled along the bridge’s great span with the thug closing the distance every second.

  Alton turned to fire his A4, only to find the pursuer had already begun to raise a pistol. Knowing panic would lead to an errant shot, he took an extra moment to line up his rifle. Before Alton could squeeze the trigger, though, a pair of booming shots rang out.

  CHAPTER 55

  Mastana awoke, her thoughts blurred from lack of nourishment. The shackles encircling each limb rendered her bouts of sleep even more uncomfortable than during her first interval of captivity.

  She heard the slow tones of the guard’s snoring. Perhaps she could talk with the girl in the neighboring cell.

  “Sita,” she called softly. “Are you there?”

  Mastana waited a full sixty seconds but received no reply. She called again, yet still no answer.

  Mastana dared to raise her voice a little more. “Is there anyone else being held prisoner here…besides me?”

  Only the guard’s incessant wheezing reached her ears. Were there other girls in nearby cells who couldn’t hear her or were too frightened to speak? Or was Mastana truly the cell block’s only occupant?

  Mastana had never felt so alone. The feeling threatened to crush her earlier resolve to escape. But there remained in her the faintest hope that somehow, she might yet take flight from these evil people. She must never give up trying to figure out a way.

  CHAPTER 56

  From the bridge’s pedestrian sidewalk, Alton had prepared to fire at his pursuer when a pair of gunshots rang out from behind.

  The enormous pursuer spun sideways on the first impact and careened over the bridge’s low railing on the second. Moments later, his body penetrated the water thirty feet below with a resounding ca-whoomp.

  Mallory lowered her smoking A4. “It was him or you.”

  A shot ricocheted off the walkway’s railing, while other rounds skittered across the surface of the bridge in front of them. The occupants of the two vehicles blocking the bridge had pointed handguns out their windows and were now letting loose a barrage of fire.

  “Head for cover—back to the car!” cried Alton.

  Flipping the safety switch of his A4 to three-round bursts, Alton sent several volleys of hot metal into the blocking vehicles. The attackers ducked behind their doors, giving Mallory and Kamaal time to reach the cover of the disabled Corolla. They laid down suppressing fire from both sides of the vehicle, giving Alton time to join them.

  Alton checked the chamber of his M203 to ensure the grenade round was still there. He had preloaded all of their rifles after the firefight that morning.

  Taking aim, he fired towards the car on the left. The round dropped into the open window—a lucky shot, really—and sent the car expanding into a fireball of flaming wreckage.

  While the husk of the first car burned, the motor of the second one roared to life. The driver spun the steering wheel and punched the gas, sending his vehicle squealing away from the Corolla. Alton and Mallory fired a few shots at the retreating car, but it soon disappeared into the traffic on the opposite side of the bridge.

  “You all okay?” asked Alton.

  They replied in the affirmative.

  Alton surveyed the wreckage of this latest attack. He withdrew his cellphone from his pocket and dialed a number. “Connect me with Captain Poya, please.”

  “This is Captain Poya. Is that you, Mr. Blackwell?”

  “Yes. I have to report a violent crime—again. Someone just tried to kill us.”

  CHAPTER 57

  Working together, Alton and Kamaal managed to restart the Corolla, escaping the bridge before their adversaries could return with reinforcements and finish them off. They moved through heavy traffic, making their way back to Kamaal’s house.

  During the drive, Alton filled in Poya on the details of the attack. The policeman promised to send someone out to the bridge to investigate.

  As they neared the house, Alton’s phone vibrated. He took it out and scanned the message.

  “Who’s that from?” asked Mallory.

  “David. He says his phone stopped working, so he picked up a burner. He says they’ve made an important discovery and want us to meet them at Bala Hissar,” said Alton, referring to the city’s well-known ancient fortress. “Wait a minute, though. Look at this.” He handed his phone to Mallory.

  She read it off. “‘Hey, Alton. Phone is broken…’” She stopped and looked up.

  “David never calls me ‘Alton.’ It’s always ‘Al.’ And even then, he doesn’t put my name in his texts. Someone’s trying to lead us into a trap.”

  “Tell ‘David’ we’ll be over in a few hours, after we run an errand,” said Mallory. “That should buy us some time to continue the investigation until they realize we’re a no-show.”

  “Good idea.” Alton rubbed his chin. “You know, if these guys tracked down my phone number, they may be able to locate Kamaal’s house, too. Perhaps it’s time to move our HQ to a different location.”

  “I agree,” said Mallory. “Let’s touch bases with the real David and line up a rendezvous spot.”

  “I know a good place,” said Kamaal. “There is an inn on the edge of town owned by my friend Sabir. Let’s go back to my house to gather your belongings and weapons, then head to the inn.”

  “Sounds good,” said Alton. “I’ll text the fake David and tell him we’ve already left your place. That should keep them away long enough for us to gather our stuff. Then I’ll call the real David and Fahima and get them up to speed.”

  They all arrived at Kamaal’s house at about the same time. Happy that their friends had survived the latest round of battles, the members of the two groups embraced.

  “Okay, let’s gather our stuff and get the hell out of Dodge,” said Alton.

  “Alton, wait,” said Kamaal as he stood near the police scanner Hanif had provided several days earlier. “I think they are talking about you all.”

  “What—?” began Alton, but Kamaal waved him quiet, listening with his head cocked. “Poya has issued an arrest warrant for Mallory.”

  “Why?” said Alton. “We were the ones attacked.”

>   “The man she shot…he was a policeman. Just before Mallory shot him, he radioed in he was chasing criminals on the Behsood bridge. Now no one can reach him on the radio.”

  “Why would he say that?” said Alton. “Unless…”

  “What?” asked Mallory.

  “Our attacker, the policeman, must have been one of them, one of the Brotherhood of Stones members,” said Alton. “What else explains it? We weren’t even speeding.”

  “But how did this policeman know where to find us?”

  “Remember how Governor Bina made a call right after we mentioned the Brotherhood in his office? Maybe he’s mixed up in this somehow, too. Once we arrived and announced our intensions of looking for the Brotherhood, he must have called his buddy on the police force.”

  “Wait,” said Kamaal, holding up a hand again. “They are also calling for a search for the missing policeman, in case he wasn’t the one shot, I suppose. He is Sergeant Gutzar Majid.”

  “Majid!” said Alton. “That’s the guy who works for Poya. Remember the other day, Poya asked that guy if he’d heard of the Brotherhood of Stones? He said ‘no’ but looked kind of weirded out at the time. Now I understand why. And now that I think about it, Majid was a huge guy, just like the man who pursued us on the bridge. It has to be him.”

  “I agree,” said Mallory, “but this whole turn of events is going to make the search for Mastana even tougher. Instead of helping us, the police will be looking to arrest us.”

  “Then it’s a good thing I have access to the police’s databases,” said Alton. “Anyway, it’s not like they’ve helped us much so far.”

  “True.”

  Alton turned to the others. “Before we leave, we’d better activate our shroud apps.”

  “What’s that?” asked Kamaal.

  “My company recently finished work on an app to block a phone’s GPS locator. If we turn it on, the authorities can’t trace our location through our phones. Kamaal, you’d better take the battery out of your phone, or they’ll trace us through you. Or you could download the app.”