Men of Mercy: The Complete Story

by Cross, Lindsay

  Hayden reached for another piece of paper on the floor. Finally, a title sheet. Now she could start making real progress. And once she sorted the papers, she’d move on to the mice and then Latham's computer. She had a feeling she'd find proof of his innocence there.

  First things first. She scanned the title sheet in her hands. Her heart started to beat faster. An in-depth study on the psychology of the Nazi movement in Germany pre-World War II and a comparative analysis on propaganda used by today's terrorists, by John Latham and Malik Hussein.

  Hayden dropped the sheet like she'd been burned. Her eyes must be playing a trick on her, right? She fell to her hands and quickly sifted through the rest of the sheets, searching for something else. Anything else. She spied another title page and snatched it up.

  Common social media tactics of terrorists to gain sympathizers and recruit worldwide, by John Latham and Malik Hussein.

  Her vision blacked for a moment. No. This was all wrong. Heart hammering out of control, Hayden searched for something else. Some kind of explanation. When she lifted the third title sheet, her hand was shaking so much she almost couldn't make out the words.

  How to win support of a collective population using decisive propaganda and fear, by John Latham and Malik Hussein.

  The words on the paper blurred and Hayden blinked rapidly, bringing the title back into focus. Each of the papers was a study on how to change people's behaviors. How crowds and riots react. How to convince normal people to commit murder.

  Hayden heard someone insert a key into the lock and the grind of the door knob turning. Hoyt…He'd come back after all. But she was glued to the floor, unable to make her legs move.

  The door swung open and all the blood drained from her face.

  Malik stood there, his brown leather briefcase in one hand, his keys in the other. His dark brown gaze fell on her. The trembles rocking through Hayden's limbs heightened into full-blown shakes.

  Malik took a step inside and Hayden leaned back, helpless to move. Malik's dark brows swooped down. “Hayden? Are you okay?”

  She worked her lips but couldn't form words.

  The door swung shut. Malik gently placed his briefcase on the first table and approached her with slow, measured steps. “Did you hurt yourself?”

  Herself? No, it seemed like everyone around her was hell bent on doing that for her. Malik stopped at the edge of the papers and lowered into a crouch. “Hayden?”

  She lifted the first of the title sheets she’d found, her hand shaking with an uncontrolled violence. “What is this?”

  Chapter 24

  Malik took the title sheet and studied it, his face carefully blank. “Hitler's ability to convince an entire population to follow him is utterly fascinating.”

  “He was crazy. Psychotic. What's fascinating about murdering millions of innocent people?”

  Could Malik really be a sleeper cell? If he was, she was completely vulnerable to him.

  “Hitler was a genius. He cracked the code of human psychology. The Nazi movement has prompted hundreds...no, thousands of studies since then. Do you know how many people will willingly give pain to another human being simply because they’re ordered to do so? It's imprinted in our DNA.”

  Malik's reverent tone sent shock waves through Hayden. She stumbled to her feet, her fight or flight kicking into overdrive.

  He stood, still gripping the paper, but studying her carefully now. Hayden eased to the left, placing a table between them. Her gaze fell to the pages clutched in her hand, and words seemed to ping out at her. Crowd psychology. Control. Violence. “Why are you doing this?”

  Malik reached across the table and covered her hand with his own. He gently extracted the sheets from her hand and set them on the table, along with the title sheet she’d handed him. “This is something Professor Latham and I have been working on for a long time.”

  Fear rushed through her veins, but Malik shackled her wrist in a light but firm grip, forcing her to stand still.

  Hayden’s mind scrambled to resolve this new dangerous Malik with the old version. And to put Latham in that same category...

  “How could you?” She spat out the words and yanked her wrist back.

  “How could I what?” Malik’s brows drew so tight together a line formed down the middle, but it was a lie. Everything was a lie. Latham hadn't been a sweet old grandfather; he'd been a secret killer. “You’re right, though, I’m not entirely who you think I am.”

  “You’re a terrorist. Both of you were.”

  Malik's intense gaze darkened and Hayden swallowed, certain she'd just pushed him over the edge. He stood between her and the only exit. Hoyt had left her here alone, and she had only her wits for protection.

  “There's something you need to know.”

  Hayden glanced at the door. She'd never make it. She could scream, but only Jarvis was likely to hear her. “I don't think I need to know anything.”

  “Hayden, look at me. Do I look like I could harm another human being?”

  She squeezed her eyes shut, refusing to heed his command. Think, Hayden, think. What would her brothers tell her to do? Find a weapon. Her eyes flew open and she cast about her gaze, searching for something. Anything.

  “Do you really think the professor would ever have harmed or planned to harm another person?”

  The steel cages weren't heavy enough to stop a toddler. She had nothing to fight him with but papers, and she really doubted a paper cut would stop him. Then Hayden spied a yellow #2 pencil in the mess.

  “Just give me five minutes. Please.”

  Hayden sucked in a breath, trying to get her body under control. Maybe it would be best to pretend to cooperate with them. Hoyt had gone to get her brother, after all. If she could hold Malik off for a few more minutes, she'd have a chance.

  Malik leaned back on the table behind him. “You know how I told you my parents live in England? Well, that's true, they do. Now. But I was actually born in Syria, with my father's family.”

  Oh my God. Hayden grabbed a stool, digging her fingers into the metal to ground herself, to keep her from running from the room right then and there.

  “When I was a young boy, my uncle joined with a group that called themselves The Islamic Brothers. I was too young at the time to understand. Very soon after that, my aunt, my mother and my sisters stopped leaving the house. They covered their heads and faces at all times. My father grew quieter while my uncle grew crazier and crazier, forcing us to follow the strictest rules and threatening severe punishment.”

  Malik's gaze drifted over her head and eyes lost focus, but Hayden didn’t take the opportunity to run. She was too locked into the story. “After about a year of this, my mother refused to obey the strict guidelines any longer. My uncle beat her nearly to death.”

  Hayden gasped. “How old were you?”

  “Nearly twelve at the time. He made us all watch, so we would know what happened to us if we disobeyed sharia law. My father came home from work and found her there. My uncle hadn't allowed any of us to tend to her. I remember my father and uncle screaming and shouting, and the next day we were on a plane flying out of the country.”

  Hayden's chest tightened with sympathy for the little boy he’d described. Her own mother might have abandoned her, but she'd never beaten her. “What happened next?”

  “My father cut off all contact with his brother and the rest of his family. It was hard for him to lose his entire family, but he didn't want that kind of life for us. For his children.”

  “So you never spoke to that part of the family again?”

  “My uncle called a couple of times to threaten us. And then a few years later, just before my graduation from high school, we heard he'd died in a suicide bombing that he himself committed. He took dozens of innocent people.”

  And had Malik actually been inspired by this? All of the papers screamed, Yes, run Hayden, he's going to kill you. But that didn’t totally make sense. “I don't understand. If your uncle did
something so terrible, why are you fascinated with people like him?”

  Malik shoved a hand through his already rumpled hair. His shoulders sagged like a deflated balloon. “Because I will never forget what it was like to see my mother bloody and unconscious on the floor and not be able to do anything about it. And I can hear the pain in my father's voice every time he talks about his family. It was all because my uncle was sucked in by a radical cleric. I vowed I would find a way to stop that from happening to other families.”

  “So you’re studying terrorism to learn how to beat it?” A tiny spark of hope ignited in her heart. Could she have been right about Malik and the professor after all?

  “When we got out of Syria and I started learning about history, I discovered more and more similarities between the Nazi movement and modern-day terrorist organizations. They use social media as their method of propaganda now, but the threat they pose is the same as it’s ever been. Death.”

  Malik walked around the table and squatted down next to Hayden. “What are you doing?” she asked, alarmed.

  “I think something is happening here in Mercy. Maybe even at the university. I've been monitoring the major terrorist organizations’ social networks for years and there has been a big increase in activity in the past two weeks. You need to be careful, watch the people around you.”

  Malik continued, “I hate to tell you this, but I think the terrorists figured out the Professor was tracking them and had him killed.”

  Hayden sunk down, her need to flee disappearing completely. Malik wasn't a terrorist—far from it. He was tracking them. Maybe he could help the team find the real killers. “Malik, I need you to tell me everything you know.”

  Chapter 25

  “I don't like this. Nothing about this guy pops on the radar but the visa. Something feels off.” Hunter stood next to the open back door of a pearl-white Lexus.

  Hoyt assessed his team leader with dead eyes as he made his silent approach. The only thing he could feel right now was his thirst for vengeance. He knew he’d probably done the right thing. Hayden could have a better life without him, marry Chance and have little golden-haired children with her bright blue eyes.

  And he could continue to kill terrorists.

  “Nothing to guess,” he snapped. “The visas both link to Latham. He's guilty.”

  As Hunter looked up at Hoyt, his black eyes turned darker than obsidian and erupted with rage. Two wide steps brought him right up to Hoyt.

  “Where the fuck is Hayden?”

  Hoyt would normally get right back in his grill, but this ‘no emotion’ was working for him, so he held back. “She refused to come with me, so I locked her in a concrete room. Here, she wants you to go get her.” Hoyt dangled the keys, not surprised when Hunter snatched them.

  “You had one job-”

  Hoyt held up a hand, cutting him off. “You try to get her to move against her will.”

  Ranger stepped out of the black Jeep parked perpendicularly behind the Lexus, his blond hair too similar in shade to Hayden's. “Slow down, Hunter. He's right. Besides, she's probably safer inside, especially locked in a room, than she would be out here.”

  Jared appeared over the top of the white sedan. “Too many high avenues of approach. Multiple spots for a sniper to position. We're exposed out here.”

  “I'm not leaving until we get something solid on this guy,” Hunter said.

  “We don't even know if he's really a suspect,” Ranger said.

  That got Hoyt's attention. He'd just watched the squirrelly bastard nearly lose it in that classroom. “There’s definitely something up with him.”

  “Ethan's been working with Mr. K on the intel,” Ranger countered. “The only connection he’s found is the uncle. That’s enough for suspicion, but not an arrest warrant. So unless you get the guy to walk up to us and hand over a signed confession...” Ranger shrugged, like letting the bad guys roam free was no big deal.

  “Then you want to let him walk? You've seen the same shit I have. You know what these guys are capable of.” Hoyt took a deep breath and reigned himself in. “Do we need to revisit our mission in Chechnya last year?”

  Ranger paled a little, good, even Hoyt had thrown up after that one. Too many dead bodies, too many kids. “They don't care who gets in the way. You okay with taking that chance in Mercy? If this guy’s involved, we need to know. Period.”

  Most of the team had crowded into a tight circle between the Jeep and the Lexus, taking up all the remaining free space on the row. A motorcycle gunned it into the lane, but he slammed on the brakes when he spotted the group.

  The guy took off his blacked-out helmet and cast the team a pissed-off stare, “You're blocking my path.”

  “Dude, is he really giving us shit right now?” Ranger said.

  “Yeah, I think he is.” Hoyt made a move in the guy’s direction, ready to teach him some manners.

  Jared slung out an arm and blocked his path. “I’ve got it.”

  His big brother was still looking out for him, but instead of getting pissed, Hoyt let it go. He'd like nothing more than to put some fear into the motorcyclist, but from the way the guy was staring up at Jared, his brother had already accomplished that mission.

  Jared crossed his arms, causing his shoulders to swell from extra-large to XX-L. He had the air of a bruiser looking for a fight.

  Without saying anything else, the guy shoved his helmet down and eased out of the parking lot.

  “Nice,” Ranger said.

  Hoyt nodded, but this was no time for a distraction. They needed movement. “So you get a bead on Malik's address?”

  “Yeah, Aaron and Riser are there now. They're combing it, but gonna be a minute. Apparently the guy is rich or something and his place is freaking huge,” Hunter said.

  “I checked his office and his lab, got nothing.”

  “Holy shit, look.” Jared pointed over Hoyt's shoulder.

  Malik Hussein emerged from the front doors, scanned the parking lot, and headed in their direction. “What the hell?”

  Hunter tapped his shoulder from behind. “Hoyt, get a bead on him. Don't know what he's packing.”

  Not caring who saw his gun this time, Hoyt pulled out his Beretta and leveled it on the suspect. The guy’s briefcase was small, but not too small to rule out an IED.

  Hunter edged past him, squeezing against the side of the car.

  “Top, fall back,” Hoyt growled.

  “I'm protected between the cars. If he's coming to talk, I don't want to scare him off.”

  “And if he's coming to blow us up?”

  “Then I guess I'll duck down.”

  Malik passed through the second row of cars. One more row to go before he reached them. He got to the edge of the opening, where he'd have to cross an open stretch of asphalt to reach them, and stopped. He sat his briefcase down and lifted his hands.

  Hunter barked out, “Slow. Keep your hands where I can see them.”

  Malik slowed his movements and lifted his hands out to his sides. The few students walking through the parking lot were too far away to notice anything out of the ordinary. “I just want to talk.”

  “Lift up your shirt.” Hunter said.

  Malik lowered one hand, un-tucked his rumpled button-up and lifted it to reveal smooth skin.

  “Now turn around.”

  No strapped on bomb visible. When the guy finished completing a full circle, he dropped his shirt and stretched his arms back out. “Hayden sent me out here.”

  Hoyt didn't even try to contain the growl that erupted from his mouth. “Where is she?”

  “In the lab, feeding the mice.”

  “What did you do to her?”

  “Please, give me a chance to explain. I swear I did nothing to harm Hayden. I never would.”

  A smart man would have turned and ran, but Malik stood his ground. Hoyt could see him trembling from where he stood.

  “Dial it back, let him speak.” Hunter lifted a hand, waving Malik
over. “Come closer, but leave the briefcase.”

  Malik’s eyes flicked from Hoyt to his gun. Hoyt didn’t lower it one bit.

  Hunter took another step forward, exposing his body in front of the nose of the car. “He's not gonna lower the weapon. Not until I tell him to.”

  Malik's throat bobbed up and then down. He started to slowly cross the open space. When he got close enough, Hunter grabbed the guy’s arm and yanked him between the vehicles. “Arms up.”

  Hunter did a rough and dirty pat down, cleared him for weapons, and then gave Hoyt an all-clear nod. Hoyt lowered his pistol, but didn't holster it.

  Hunter shoved Malik into the back seat of his own car and crowded in next to him. Classic intimidation move. Hoyt and Jared fell back, blocking the door.

  Hoyt glanced into the car to get a better look at Malik. His skin was pale, and he looked like he might pass out or puke. “Look, she didn't tell me who you are or what you do. I know how this works. I don't want to know. But I think I can help.”

  “How is it you can help us?” Hunter's deep voice drifted out of the car.

  “I-ah-I've been keeping track of some fairly well hidden networks over the past couple of years.”

  “What kind of networks.”

  “The same kind you're looking for. The ones run by ISA.”

  Holy shit. “Did he just say ISA?”

  Ranger's gaze cut to Hoyt. “Yep.”

  The Lexus rocked and Hunter commanded in a low growl, “You better start talking. My patience ran out ten minutes ago.”

  Malik cleared his throat, “First, I am not involved with ISA or any terrorist organization. I want to help you take them down.”

  “Tell me your story and I’ll decide if you’re involved or not.”

  “Over the past couple of weeks, there's been a lot of chatter on some of their smaller social network channels. I stumbled onto these channels a couple of years ago doing research. With my background and connections, it wasn't too hard to get on the thread without raising suspicion. I've stayed in the background, collecting data. A marked spike in activity occurred ten days ago and it hasn't let up.”