He had never revealed the identity of his paid killer to the Consortium for fear that sooner or later, they might hire the sociopath to get rid of him in some gruesome manner he preferred not to contemplate.
Chapter Twenty-nine
Jim Stevenson’s residence, Battery Park, Manhattan: 07:48 EDT October 23, 2016
The Consortium´s lawyer was at his desk earlier than usual. Unless Vinnie screwed up, something not very likely, Professor Sonkin was no longer among the living. He expected the usual monosyllabic call to confirm his passing at any moment. He possessed a signed Power of Attorney and would transfer the $180 million to the Consortium’s account in the Isle of Wight right away. That would keep them happy for a day or two but he needed more. He was certain Zach’s brother still offered a way through the foundation’s ironclad security.
The boy disappeared the day of the fiasco at Yankee Stadium and no one had seen a hair of his little blond head since then. He needed a ploy to flush him out. After the failed attack, the FBI questioned the mother for a few hours then released her. She returned home straight away but without her child. It was obvious the Foundation had him hidden away. His contact in the FBI discovered the cell number Ricky had dialed from a payphone near his home to speak with his older brother.
The last recorded call was forwarded to a number in Senegal. All Stevenson needed was something to force Ricky to contact his brother and talk long enough to allow them to trace the address. They’d probably agreed to keep communication at an absolute minimum. Making the kid an orphan should do the trick. He’d risked everything positioning the mercenary strike force closer to Dakar. Once he had the coordinates where they were hiding, he could order the attack and he would be back in the Consortium’s good graces.
The night before Vinnie tailed Sonkin and his Russian bitch to the apartment in downtown Pittsburgh he rented for her. They’d been at the sleazy strip club where she worked until three in the morning. It was an old building and the fire escape led to a spare bedroom where he’d jimmied the window. The flimsy walls allowed him to hear all the action. He wondered if she’d moan as much giving him a blowjob. The fear that they were about to die always made them more eager to please. He waited for the noise to stop but lost patience after two hours. Sonkin was using the blue pill for sure. Vinnie didn’t need it. He only had sex when he was about to kill someone and that always made him rock hard.
She was on top of Sonkin when he marched into the bedroom and grabbed her by the hair. She screamed as he threw her on the floor and kicked her in the chest knocking the wind out of her. He tied her up and forced her to watch. Sonkin’s eyes were as big with fear as her dark brown aureoles. Vinnie handcuffed him to the bedpost then stuffed her panties into his mouth.
He liked it when the client gave him enough warning so he could plan some fun. He’d brought along a bag of tools to make Sonkin regret his last moments on earth. He started by sodomizing him with one of those electric kitchen hand blenders. Sonkin screamed but panicked even more when Vinnie plugged it in to a socket by the bed. Vinnie almost laughed as the professor tried desperately to shit it out. With the gag in place, he couldn’t understand his muffled pleas but he was certain they included a multi-million dollar offer not to turn it on. He’d let him think about what was coming for a moment. It had been tricky bringing along a two-quart container of liquid nitrogen, he’d been extra careful not to spill any.
Sonkin still had an erection, which proved his hunch about chemical assistance. He pulled on a pair of thick rubber gloves then inserted Sonkin’s penis in the fog covered metal receptacle. He figured about thirty seconds at minus 346 degrees Fahrenheit would be about enough to freeze it solid. Sonkin shrieked at first but soon fainted which was too bad because he missed how easy it was to snap it off a few seconds later; like breaking an icicle in winter. When Sonkin came to a moment later, he realized he’d been castrated and that was when Vinnie turned on the hand mixer. He only survived for a minute on high.
The woman was good, the best cocksucker he’d met in a long time. You never went wrong with a professional. He could tell in her eyes that she thought a great orgasm would save her life. She went at it with gusto. He slit her throat just as he came. Vinnie left Sonkin with the mixer up his ass and his penis up hers. One of his better efforts! It was dawn when he strolled out the front door of the building. He’d get one of those all you can eat breakfasts at a local diner then call Stevenson.
The lawyer wasn’t interested in the gory details only the result. Although, he had to admit that the liquid nitrogen was an inspired touch. He gave Vinnie the address for Zach’s mother and told him to kill the husband as well if he was with her. No one liked a wife beater. Nothing too gruesome, just make them dead! The ex-cop he had watching the place would help distract the State Troopers still hanging around. Vinnie assured him he would be there just after noon. Stevenson was certain Ricky would call his brother as soon as he learned the terrible news. After all, he would be an orphan and Zach would be the only family he had left in the world. He warned Frank at the FBI to be ready for a trace. They would only have one chance.
Chapter Thirty
Sergei Grigorievich Chibirov sat buckled into one of the few passenger seats near the front of the brand new Russian built 11-476 heavy transport aircraft cruising somewhere over the Republic of Niger. His employers had managed to snatch the first four planes off the assembly line in the Urals right out from under the nose of the Russian Air Force who paid for their design. He couldn’t help but smile, even if the effort caused pain in the large scar on his left cheek. It was a souvenir of his first tour in Afghanistan.
At the time, he had been a young idealistic captain in the Soviet Army working in intelligence. He hated the very people they were sent to liberate. They spent the first half of their lives buggering each other and the second half screwing the rest of the world in the name of Allah. He became an expert in torture and usually he got whatever he wanted. Men, women and even children; it didn’t matter to him. Any self-loathing that his actions produced, was like spent nuclear fuel, as long as it was well contained it couldn’t hurt him. He was certain that he had a lead-lined heart. Nothing got in and nothing leaked out.
At thirty-two years of age and with the rank of Colonel, they discharged him with a kiss on both cheeks, a service medal and a pension that couldn’t even pay the rent on his miserable flat near Moscow. He moved to his native Georgia and through a former colleague landed a job as a bodyguard for the new President. When Shevardnadze retired, Sergei returned to his birthplace in South Ossetia, where he became involved in arms smuggling for the nascent separatist movement. His contacts in Russia proved invaluable and within twelve months, he was on the payroll of the Georgian mafia with a luxurious office in Belarus.
Two year ago, a representative of the Consortium, a lawyer from New Jersey, approached him. They needed someone to organize and train a small mercenary army to provide some muscle for their future plans. They offered an almost unlimited budget and with those kinds of funds, he surrounded himself with the best officers, battle tested troops and enough state of the art equipment to give GI Joe an erection.
Up to now they had been limited to covert operations; a few assassinations to coerce reluctant politicians and promoting a coup or two to install pliant puppets. That was until this morning when he received orders to mobilize from the base in the Sudan that they had rented from al-Qaeda. The target was a secret organization called the Servants of Ma’at led by a young American thought to be hiding in Dakar. They wanted both the teenager and his army of do-gooders obliterated.
Stevenson’s exact words had been, “Wipe them off the face of the earth!”
He was looking forward to a return to action. It was unhealthy not to have killed in months. He didn’t count the Chinese whore he caught snooping through his computer files in Istanbul. She died without revealing who had contracted her. He blamed himself. He was out of practice. It wouldn’t happen again. The co-pilot ca
me out of the cockpit to inform him that they were now in Malian airspace and would be landing in thirty minutes. The temporary base in Mali’s northern desert was less than a two-hour flight from Dakar. Africa was so convenient in that sense. There were large swaths of airspace and territory that governments could barely patrol let alone control and there was always a rebel leader looking for cash or equipment. After getting the green light from Stevenson that morning, he’d dispatched an advance team to an abandoned airfield on the outskirts of the Senegalese capital. He expected the target coordinates before midnight.
Beach house, Atlantic Coast northwestern Dakar, 18:12 GMT October 21, 2016
Mariam caught three fish before Ryan even had a nibble. Turns out, she had been fishing most of her life. She patiently showed him how to jig the line and in no time he had his first bite. She wore jeans and a cotton blouse that clung to her breasts with the spray from the waves. He found himself getting an erection even as he smacked his latest catch over the head with a wooden mallet. In preparation for the evening, he decided to call his aroused state, Oscar, in an attempt to keep more embarrassing words out of his dream file.
“Who are you thinking about?” Mariam asked suddenly.
“Oscar,” he blurted accidently.
“Did you two fish together in America?”
“Just playmates,” he fibbed. “Maybe we should head in soon,” he suggested.
“As you wish, we have more than enough fish for everyone.”
When they docked, the cook took the catch then shooed them away so he could prepare dinner. The beach was almost deserted and Ethan’s team kept a discreet distance. They sat together on a dune to watch the sun go down. Mariam reached for his hand. The contact sent a shiver down his spine. It was the most beautiful sunset he could remember.
“Do you ever wonder why the sun dips down so quickly right before it sets?” she asked.
“No. Tell me why.”
“Because the other half of humanity longs more for a new day to begin then we do for this one to linger.”
“I don’t want this one to ever end,” he assured her.
They were silent for a moment then Ryan leaned over and kissed her.
“Did you like that?” he asked. “And remember, I can read your mind.”
“Go ahead.”
Ryan blushed.
In their absence, the team of waiters had transformed the beach in front of the house into a fairy tale. Hundreds of candles flickered in the languid breeze and the chords of a traditional kora called them to a marquee tent surrounded by torches. A small fire burned cheerfully in a pit. They sat on a mound of pillows as the first of a dozen platters arrived loaded with traditional plates that Mariam patiently described.
The food was delicious and the conversation, even more inviting. Ryan assumed love was always like this and he soon lost track of time. Mariam laid her head on his left shoulder while they contemplated the stars and Ryan realized it had been an hour since any of the waiters had disturbed their privacy. He reminded himself to congratulate Ethan on the professionalism of the team. He didn’t think she would mind if he kissed her again. He was right. Twenty minutes later, they were locked in a steamy embrace when he heard a cough behind them. His first thought was that Chief Mbaye had a censor among the waiters.
“This isn’t a good time,” he called out to the person about to lose his job.
“My Lord…”
He recognized Ethan’s voice. He sat up and peered around the corner of the tent. Any annoyance he felt over the interruption vanished as soon as he saw the anguish on his face. Oscar disappeared as fast as he had when the light bulb exploded at Maria’s.
“What happened?”
“Zach’s mother and stepfather were shot to death two hours ago,” he announced. “We just found out.”
Ryan’s face went white. “Oh my God,” he exclaimed.
Mariam sat up and placed a comforting arm on his shoulder. She knew how close Zach was to him.
“David called Zach right away so he could talk to Ricky,” he reported. “Zach is devastated.”
Nkosana turned to Mariam, “I better go see him.”
She nodded her understanding as he gave her a kiss.
“That won’t be necessary my Lord, Tony is bringing him here now. I thought it would be better.”
“Good idea and it will be easier for him with less people around.”
“I am expecting them any moment.”
“Do we have a secure line here?”
“I have a satellite phone.”
“Can you get my parents on the line?” he requested. “I want to find out how Ricky is doing.”
Zach looked like hell. His eyes were rimmed red from crying and he lost it as soon as he saw the Pharaoh. Ryan embraced his best friend while he sobbed on his shoulder. Mariam dabbed her eyes with a tissue.
“Please don’t send me back,” he begged.
“I can arrange for you and Ricky to be together some place safe, in a country with no extradition treaty with the United States,” he offered.
“I can’t leave you. Ricky is safe with Manuel and David,” he said, “No matter where I go, I’ll always be looking over my shoulder. That isn’t a way to live and especially not for Ricky.”
Ryan knew he was right, “My Mom says he’s asleep now and resting peacefully. We’ve doubled the security at the safe house and I asked David to stay with them until this is all over. He’s going to give them private karate classes.”
“That’s great!” Zach tried to smile. “Can you do me a favor?”
“Whatever you need, buddy!”
“Can you make sure there are people at my Mom’s funeral?” he requested. “I don’t want her to get buried alone. She wasn’t a bad mother; she just loved the wrong guys.”
“You can count on it,” he promised then added, “She was actually a great Mom, after all she made you.”
The Pharaoh held his friend in his arms until he fell asleep on the sofa hugging a pillow.
“You better get Mariam back to the compound,” Ryan suggested to Ethan, “Tony can stay here with part of the security team. We’ll be alright.”
For the first time, Mariam broke protocol and gave him a hug in front of the others.
“The next date will end better,” he whispered in her ear.
“It isn’t so much how they end but how they begin,” she asserted with as much of a smile as the circumstances allowed.
Ryan kissed her on the lips while everyone turned away discretely.
“I’ll be back first thing in the morning,” Ethan assured him.
Ryan and Tony sat together on the beach trying to make sense of the tragic turn of events. Neither had spoken for over an hour, words seemed superfluous somehow. Zach was sound asleep in the house.
“I can understand that they might want to take revenge on me,” Ryan commented, “I really screwed up their plans.”
Tony knew that his role right now was just to listen.
“What I can’t accept is that they take out their anger on the innocent families of the people closest to me,” he lamented.
“It just isn’t fair.”
Tony put his arm around Ryan’s shoulder.
They both heard it at the same time. It sounded like distant thunder at first and Ryan wondered if it was a message from the Gods. He couldn’t have been more mistaken. The noise started to move closer.
“I think it’s a plane,” Tony stated.
“Coming in real low,” Ryan observed.
“Maybe we’re under some sort of military approach.”
“And I was thinking of making an offer for this place,” Ryan joked.
The metallic roar grew so loud that Tony instinctively reached for his automatic rifle.
“Heads up,” he barked into the microphone to his team of six guards scattered around the beach house.
To their amazement, the thick bank of fog a kilometer offshore suddenly belched a massive transport plane heading
straight for them and flying so low that the wash from the huge propellers threw up a spray on the surface of the sea. It looked so much like strafing that they both dove for cover.
“Dios Santo” Tony yelled. “That was close and no running lights.”
Ryan didn’t respond. He was still astonished by the image of pure evil that flashed through his mind as the aircraft lumbered over their heads. It was the first time he had ever picked up something from so far away.
“Ryan, are you OK?”
The sound of Tony’s voice dissolved the face of the man.
“I’m alright,” Ryan assured him. “I received a vision from someone on the plane. He had a big scar on the left side of his face and a heart so full of evil that all I could see was death.”
Ryan shivered from the all too recent memory, “Let’s go see how Zach is doing.”
Chapter Thirty-one
Hill-top in Central Dakar, 06.24 GMT, October 22, 2016
Sergei ordered his driver to park beside the cluster of radio antennae on a small hill in the northeastern sector of Dakar. It was still dark but at first light he would have a clear view of the large compound to the southwest. Five minutes later, one of his operatives flashed a laser from atop a utility pole only thirty meters from the main entrance of the objective giving him the exact location. Heat sensing devices the team carried detected thirty-seven individuals in the sprawling compound as well as two dogs and what appeared to be several birds.
The assault force arrived in a transport plane two hours ago at an abandoned military airport seventy kilometers from the city. Ten minutes earlier, the advance team activated a portable air traffic control system long enough for the pilot to guide the massive aircraft to the runway recently cleared of a herd of goats and equipped with temporary landing lights that extinguished the instant the wheels touched the tarmac.
They made the final approach over the ocean at low altitude to avoid radar detection. Sergei wondered if the wash from the massive turbo engines had managed to dislodge any of the sea of tin roofs they roared over at less than a hundred meters. It would be a rude awakening for the occupants.
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