Finding Linda

by Ron Sewell

  “Why me?”

  Da frowned as a firestorm glowed in her eyes. “Because you are a woman who uses the weakness of others to get what you want.”

  She paused. “You’re not a stupid man so why should I trust you? You know I trust no one.”

  Da crossed his arms and stared at her. “Comply or die. I do not care. You decide.”

  “Believe me I’ve been close to dying.”

  “I thought you were dead.”

  She shrugged. “Life is full of surprises. Tell me how your clients create their wealth?”

  “You name it, they do it, but from what I understand selling oil is their main source of funding. They sell it on the black market in Turkey. As you might expect they are not amateurs. They claimed responsibility for the raids in Paris and the downing of a Russian plane in Egypt. They want to destroy Israel.”

  Linda shook her head. “Israel will be defiant to the end. They will fight to the last man, woman and child. Isis, if that’s who we’re talking about, would be better consolidating their position.”

  “You may have a point but my clients will pay our price. This could be your last job. You can retire and live with your lovers.”

  “I thought Iran promised to eradicate Israel.”

  “They have but Israel destroyed or at least sabotaged their uranium enrichment facility. Now they have an arrangement with the West. The lion has lost its teeth. Isis will gamble on Israel’s destruction to gain credibility. Iran is dallying with the rules and for the moment out of the big game.” He laughed. “I use people like you who care nothing for the rules and win.”

  “Do you trust me?”

  “I don’t have to but for the moment you receive my vote of confidence.”

  “I need more information on this ship, and I select my team.”

  “You can select women from their camp a few kilometres from here.”

  Linda strolled to the window and stared into the distance. “I prefer men.”

  “That’s not what I’m told.”

  Linda spun on her heal, and her eyes flashed. “You bastard. You know I prefer to work with men. My love life is private.”

  Da spread a sheaf of papers onto his desk. “This is the ship. Yes or no?”

  A tiny smile played around her lips as she approached, picked up and read the single sheet. Five minutes later she muttered a few words before she said, “Yes, but it will not be easy. First and most important, these vessels carry professional armed guards. My last escapade failed because I was not prepared. My informant, who is now rotting in hell, lied. Second, the cargo, unless you have a rather large crane, is difficult to unload. Third, this ship’s communications equipment is the best in the world. I’ll need plenty of time to prepare my strike strategy.”

  He could tell from her voice, she meant every word. Da tapped his silver parker fountain pen on the table. “You must complete by August Seventh. You have twelve weeks.”

  “I have conditions and I’m not in the mood to negotiate.”

  “These people do not bargain, they demand.”

  “If you need this ship and its cargo, my price is ten million dollars. The cost of this operation will be high and I need the name of an arms dealer in Libya. I hope these women say farewell to their families because there is a good chance they will die. When can I check them out? I must have complete control of the operation. What they do when I’ve finished is up to them.”

  “They might not concur but they need this ship. As we speak they have unlimited resources, and thousands of men. Weapons, take your pick, Russian, American or British.” Da replaced the single sheet back in the folder. “Now you must return to your room. The door will be unlocked but do not leave.”

  On a stool in the passage sat the young girl. She stood, grabbed Linda’s hand and took her to the basement. The first thing she saw was the flat screen television secured to the far wall and toiletries on the shelf. In her absence, a set of clean clothes rested on the bottom of the bed.

  “I stink and need a hot shower.” She mimed washing to the girl who smiled and opened another door. Linda peeked inside to reveal a windowless bathroom complete with shower.

  She nodded to the girl who smiled and left. Removing her clothes, she showered and let the warm water flow over her body for a long time. Wrapped in a towel, her body glowing from the heat of the water, she sat on the edge of the bed. Her mind gave thought to the mission. It was suicidal. She breathed hard and long and let the towel slump to the floor. Naked, she slept the sleep of the dead. ***

  At six, the next morning the young girl woke Linda. On the bed was a tray with bread, cheese and a glass of milk. To its left, a black loose fitting dress and headscarf.

  Hungry, she ate the bread and cheese and drank the milk. The black outfit she ignored and dressed in her blue jeans and a white blouse.

  The girl shook her head and pointed to the black dress.

  Linda laughed as she wrapped a headscarf around her head. “I’m not a Muslim and if those in charge don’t like my clothes, they can go fuck themselves.”

  The girl shrugged as she beckoned her to follow. They took the same stairs to the ground floor but continued to the main entrance.

  Da glanced at her clothing. “I thought you might rebel against the black outfit. At least you are wearing the headscarf. Come, the wagon is ready to leave.”

  Linda scanned the compound. Armed men dressed in black stood at strategic points. Da waited as she clambered into the rear of the lorry. Seconds later, he sat opposite her. “In ten minutes you can select your team.”

  Outside the compound, a group of mud and wooden shacks dotted the landscape. A tribe of goats eating the dry foliage from bushes scurried away. There were no cars or people. No one challenged them. Oil lamps flickered in a few half-shuttered windows.

  Linda peered at the dust cloud trailing behind them. “What if these women are not up to the job?”

  Da gave a brief smile. “You will train them. I assume you gave thought to a plan last night.”

  “I slept well and my plan will work if I have the right people.”

  Da acknowledged her remark with a nod as the truck screeched to a halt.

  A woman wearing a black hijab glanced at Da and Linda. “Follow me,” she said in accented English.

  Bursts of automatic gunfire filled the air and screams killed the desert silence.

  “Your people create a lot of noise,” said Linda.

  The woman in the hijab paused. “They battle for Allah and will die for their faith.”

  Linda took a deep breath and strolled across the rock-strewn sand. Her pulse rate quickened with each step. The woman followed, her head held high in silence. Linda’s eyes scanned the landscape in every direction. Forty-fifty armed women and a dozen men made up the camp. Ex-army tents arranged in a square were the living quarters. To the rear a mixed bag of army trucks and personnel carriers.

  A light breeze stirred the sand. Linda halted and shook her head. “Do they speak English?”

  She nodded.

  Linda addressed the group of armed women. “Run as fast as you can with your weapons to the top of that dune and back.” Not one budged.

  She pointed. “Are they trained in operating AKs?”

  “They are.”

  A hostile silence grew between them. Linda smiled. “A competition. Your best against me. Place a target at one hundred metres. One full magazine each and if your woman wins, I will take and train the others for this mission.”

  The woman pointed to the tallest. “Come. You are the best with an AK. Allah will guide your hand.”

  Linda clutched an AK, checked it and tossed it on the ground. “The barrel is dirty and worn.” Five more she dumped before she said, “This will do. I will fire two ranging shots; your woman may do the same.”

  One woman scurried away and placed two wooden targets in the sand.

  Linda spread her body on the ground, positioned the AK, took aim and squeezed the trigger. She elevate
d her head, stared into the distance and repeated the process. “I’m ready and will empty my magazine.” After firing her twentyeight rounds, she stood. “You, fetch my target.”

  Another woman darted over the sand, retrieved the wooden target, and ran back.

  Linda shrugged. “Not my best but a full mag within a ten centimetre group.”

  While prone, her rival emptied a full magazine.

  Linda retrieved the target. The instant she saw it she laughed. “You lose.” With long strides, she headed towards the truck. As she passed the woman, she gave her a contemptuous look and dropped the AK at her feet.

  The woman in charge dashed after her. “Our commander said you have to select from these fighters.”

  Linda kept walking. “I see women dressed in black who cannot shoot straight. How can I decide when I can’t see them?

  “They are the best.”

  “Who says?”

  “The Commander.”

  Linda faced her. “You don’t have a fucking clue. That lot are cannon fodder. I must have a team with strength, brains and the ability to handle a multitude of weapons. I guarantee none of them can parachute onto a moving ship?”

  “You can train them.”

  “What gives you that impression? Ask your God? If he answers, he’ll tell you the same.” She glared at Da. “Tell whoever is in charge this is a no-go. If I can use my people, we have a chance.”

  “You’ll never be a politician,” said Da. “The man you must speak to has come out of his tent.”

  Their commander, dressed in combat fatigues, sauntered towards the wagon. He was tall, a muscular frame and short dark hair. Linda stared at him and stood her ground. He lit a cigarette but from his manner, she saw a professional assassin.

  One metre in front of Linda he said, “Can you steal my ship?”

  She laughed and pointed at the women. “Not with those.”

  He took a step forward. “Can you steal my ship with your own team?”

  “Yes.”

  He rubbed his unshaven chin. “I heard you address these women as cannon fodder. They will sacrifice their lives for Allah. Given time, I can change that ragtag bunch of women into a lethal terrorist force.” He smiled from a cruel mouth. “Select your team from my men but if you fail, you will die by the hand of Allah or his servant. I promise you a painful death.”

  Linda managed a smile. “What you ask is difficult but not impossible. Tell me how you make out that this ship is the right one?”

  “Because I never make a mistake.”

  Linda’s eyes burned with insolence. “The price for my skills has doubled or you can find someone else.”

  He remained silent for a moment. “You came well recommended and your skill with a weapon is remarkable. If there were another available, I would place a gun to your head and pull the trigger. Let’s go to the compound and discuss the operation.”

  Linda smiled as the desert wind created tiny whirls in the sand. “I’ve done many things in my life I’d rather forget but I prefer to leave the dying to others.”

  A glare of disapproval filled his face. “When you complete your mission, we will show the world the power of our God against the Infidel.”

  She paused and turned. “There is no God; death is one appointment you never miss. I’ll base and train my team in Libya. Have your best men ready and waiting.”

  The commander’s mobile beeped, and diverted his attention. “She has consented.” The call ended. “Make a list of your requirements. I will contact our people in Libya to prepare for our arrival. I’m instructed to be part of this mission.”

  Her expression lost its smile. “If you can keep up with me, I’ll tell you. When are we leaving?”

  “This evening. We will travel by dhow to Egypt and enter Libya through the back door.”

  She frowned, pulled her frame into the back of the lorry and sat next to Da.

  She shouted over the noise of the truck’s engine, “I’ll have my list written in an hour.”

  From his jacket pocket, Da pulled a bulky manila envelope. “You’ll need these.”

  She tore it open to find six passports, driving licences and a First National Bank credit card. “You have a sixth sense.”

  “I have absolute faith in your ability to steal this vessel. Your answer was predictable. You will empty your existing bank account and transfer your money to the First National.”

  A silence developed between them.

  On leaping from the lorry, she stumbled, rolled and stood erect. Clutched in her right hand, a Yarygin pistol.

  Da clambered to the ground and faced her. “They swear a cat has nine lives but you have one. A moment after you squeeze the trigger you’ll be dead. Two lives wasted. Your decision.”

  She reversed the pistol and gripping the short barrel, presented it to him. As he raised his right hand, she let the pistol tumble to the ground. Her eyes burned into his. “My game, my rules.”

  He chuckled. “You’re a great poker player. Your game, your rules. If you had said no, the opposite is true.”

  5

  Mombasa – Kenya

  Inspector Rono Obi.

  Police Inspector Rono Obi stooped his tall frame under the tape and strolled into a blaze of light.

  Three portable floodlights lit the corpse of a girl.

  The scene of crime officers photographed and bagged evidence.

  He reached out and shook the forensic officer’s hand. “How did she die?”

  The man turned and lowered his eyes to the dead girl. “I haven’t finished but whoever did this didn’t just kill her, they brutalised her. If there’s anything you can use to catch these bastards, I’ll let you know.”

  “Thanks.”

  “You look like you’ve lost weight. Do you still visit the gym?”

  Rono shrugged. “If I get home early, I enjoy a good run. Clears the brain.”

  “I’ve finished. She is yours. There’s an ambulance in the next street ready to take her to the morgue.”

  “Good.” He nodded his thanks to the officer. “They use and abuse them but that doesn’t give them the right to murder these girls. I hate this part of the job. Cruel though it sounds, she’s one more carcass to bury, and I've seen more than my share. It’s not that I don't care. I do, too much. Sometimes I often wonder why I do this for a living. My father wanted me to be a carpenter. He was right.”

  “Are you having a bad day?” asked the officer as he left.

  “Let’s say it could be better.”

  Rono took his time checking every nook and cranny in the vicinity. He approached the victim and crouched. He sighed at the sight of her battered face caked in dried blood. With care, he raised the blood-matted hair from her face. The cause of death was obvious. This part of the job he hated but hid his feelings. His mind raced. He reasoned she might be twelve, fourteen years of age. Her thin and faded cotton dress ripped from top to bottom. To keep her quiet her attacker had stuffed her knickers into her mouth. Her stockings, full of holes, fitted the picture of a sex slave. To her left, a bloodied piece of fence post and a blonde wig lay on the ground.

  “From the fresh needle marks on her arm, they pumped her full of drugs before giving her to a street gang to fuck. I suppose no one heard anything.”

  An officer who stood next to him said, “In this part of town they’re deaf, dumb and blind or don’t care.”

  “You will ask those who live close.”

  “I’ll order two men to knock on doors and make enquiries.”

  Rono shrugged. “You do that. When you’ve finished, you can also attend the autopsy. I want DNA tests carried out. Understood?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  He stood back from the corpse as his mind processed the facts. “I’ve seen enough. You can take her away.” To an outsider he was in complete control and without a care in the world. “I’m off to gather a month’s supply of clean shirts from the twenty-fourhour laundry.”

  The sergeant did not comment.
This was the third death of a prostitute this month.

  The next morning they discussed the girl’s murder and agreed to check with their informants.

  “Why bother?” asked a sergeant. “We know who ordered the kill, but we’ll never prove it.”

  Surprised at the question, Rono said, “She was a young girl, and it’s our job to find the bastards who killed her.” He put his hands behind his head. “Get out there and push a few buttons. You might get lucky.”

  Two days later the report of her death landed on his desk. He flipped through the pages and glanced at the scene of crime photos. It stated she was thirteen, malnourished, and listed as a missing person. Those to blame had abused her in every way. The beating killed her and most of the bones in her body indicated old fractures. An overdose of heroin had made her obedient. It fitted a pattern he had seen too many times. He tossed it into his ‘In Tray’. She had tried to run and died as a warning to others. His team arrested a dozen pimps and questioned them for hours but none talked. Although not a religious man, he prayed one might make a mistake. The girl did not deserve to die and her murderer should serve the rest of his life in prison.

  From his desk drawer he lifted a packet of cigarettes and a lighter and placed them next to his empty ‘Out Tray’. He stared at the packet and returned it to the drawer. A scrap of paper fluttered to the floor. He reached and retrieved his shopping list.

  ***

  Police inspector Rono was taking a shower when his mobile rang. Naked and dripping water over the floor he answered. “My first early night and they ring me at home. No peace for a divorcee.”

  “Sorry, boss,” said his sergeant. “I know you’re not on duty but we’re short staffed. Two officers called in sick.”

  His heart pounded. “My gut tells me we have trouble. How can I help?”

  “It’s a contract killing.”

  “What makes you think that?”

  “The doc says the killer drugged the victim with a dart and then shot her. Two neat holes in her head at close range.”