They headed for the air-conditioned indoors, but the terminal provided little relief from the scorching temperatures. People crushed willy-nilly inside the cement block building like a bizarre stampede. Chago took advantage of his considerable height to search above the crowds and spotted Xander and Luther at the far end of the customs line.
He grabbed Irena’s hand, signaled to Innocent, and headed out the doors. They made it less than five feet before being detained by Congolese police. “Sorry sir, you must wait inside for your passengers.”
They pressed back into the throng inside. Impatient, he hauled Irena to a spot near the windows, overlooking the landing strip.
“We gots company.” Innocent moved to stand near his shoulder and pointed to a sleek luxury SUV halting near the plane’s open cargo bay. The vehicle gleamed against the surrounding decay like a fine diamond in a lump of coal.
Drake and Turay hopped out of the vehicle and approached the baggage workers. Chago directed Irena into a nearby chair and gave her a warning look. “Wait here.”
“Where the hell are you going?” Her snippy tone perfectly matched her mulish expression. “You’re not leaving me here.”
“I can’t guarantee your safety. Things could get ugly fast and you’d only be a distraction.” He glanced down at her casual shorts and impractical sandals to emphasize the point.
“Nonsense. I’m going and there’s nothing you can do to stop me.” She planted her fists firmly on her hips and shot him a defiant glare. “Now, let’s go create a diversion.”
Chago clenched his jaw. A quick check out the window showed Drake and Turay had disappeared. Out of options, he relented. “Fine. But don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
Irena shoved past him and headed straight for Innocent. Chago compressed his lips and followed. The trio slipped out an unguarded emergency exit and into the oppressive late-afternoon heat. Odors of burnt rubber and jet fuel clogged the air. The occasional beep of a reversing cargo vehicle kept attention diverted from their progress.
They hugged the yellow walls of the terminal until reaching the far corner and waited until Innocent motioned them forward.
Chago jogged across the expanses, ducking behind the occasional vehicle for cover while Irena struggled to keep pace in her flimsy footwear. Shit. He’d known this had been a mistake. When she continued to lag behind, he clamped an arm around her waist and hoisted her high against his side as he sped to concealment behind one of the plane’s wheels.
Innocent pointed toward the entrance and Chago nodded. He pushed Irena ahead of him and the three darted up the stairs into the deserted fuselage without notice. Crouched behind a row of seats, he took a moment to let his eyes adjust to the dim light of the cabin.
“There’s a hatch this way.” Innocent pointed toward the back of the aircraft.
“You stay here.” Irena started to protest, but he clamped a hand to her shoulder and forced her to remain still, his voice a grave warning. “If anything doesn’t sound right or someone comes, you leave.” He held up a hand to stifle any arguments. “Promise me, Irena. Promise me you’ll get out.”
She gave a reluctant nod.
“Good girl.” Chago dropped a quick kiss on her forehead and moved around her to join Innocent at the rear of the plane.
• • •
Alone, Irena searched the magazine holder beside her head and perused the onboard safety manual, noting the location of all of the emergency exits with increased boredom. At least the plane was air-conditioned. She replaced the dog-eared placard and was about to check for more reading material when voices approached—male voices. They grew louder as footsteps pounded up the mobile steps outside.
Irena jimmied as far beneath the seats as she could get and waited. Two men boarded. Their conversation was rushed, but she recognized one of the speakers. The tone reeked of Ivy League asshole. Drake.
“I told you I’d secure your weapons and I’ve done so.” From her floor-level vantage point, she spied Drake’s designer shoes in the aisle several rows ahead. “Now I’m waiting for you to finish the job, Turay.”
She recognized the name of the insurgent leader from his dossier. Innocent had been right about Drake and his arms dealing.
“Fuck da job. You didn’t get all my stuff.” Turay’s combat boots jammed into the side of Drake’s Italian loafers. “I needs them grenades.”
“You can start your rebellion without them. Or make some in the bathtub. Isn’t that what you new-fangled terrorists do anyway?”
“No payment ‘til I gets me explosives!” Turay now stood toe to toe with Drake and the unmistakable swish of a blade being drawn reverberated.
Irena scanned the area for a viable escape route.
“Don’t threaten me. You agreed to our terms yesterday. Kill Chago and you’ll get the rest of your shipment. Understand?”
Irena froze. Kill Chago?
A door burst open and a voice boomed through the cabin like salvation.
“Stop right there, asshole.”
• • •
Chago’s finger hovered over his Glock’s trigger, itching to pull. A quick search failed to produce any sign of Irena. For once, it appeared she’d done as he’d ordered. He signaled for Innocent to move out from behind him.
“Ah, Chago and Mr. Balewa.” Drake leaned beside a row of seats like royalty on a throne. “I believe you know my associate, Mack Turay?”
The rebel leader shot him a disgusted glare.
“Where are the smuggled weapons? We know they arrived on this plane.”
“Tsk, tsk. I’m a peacemaker remember? How stupid do you think I am to get my hands stuck in the arms-trading cookie jar?” Drake glanced at Innocent, his look ripe with disdain. “Wouldn’t make much sense to involve myself with people of his sort, now would it?”
“For the record, attempting to rape Irena in your office didn’t make sense either.”
Drake eyes glinted with malice. “Rape is such a subjective term. One person’s pain is another’s pleasure. I would have expected a man of your . . . experience to know the difference.”
Chago ignored the barb and jerked his head toward Turay. “What about him?”
“Him? He’s only a bit of fun. You know the old saying—no conflict, no headlines. Territorial scuffles soon become big, messy wars. More action equals more press, and more dollars flowing.”
“And the killing?” Innocent’s angry question rebounded off the cabin walls like a hard rubber ball. The militia leader stepped forward, the rifle in his hands jerking with each word. “What about the dying?”
“Life’s all about compromise. Take your arrival today, Mr. Balewa. May I call you Innocent?” He didn’t wait for a reply. The militia leader’s name rolled off his tongue like a perverse joke. “Innocent, you chose to stop this arms shipment instead of going home to check on your family and ensure their safety. Compromise.”
Innocent charged, but Chago tipped his rifle away from its intended target. “If anything happens to this man’s family, I’ll eviscerate you. Understand?”
“And what about you?” Drake moved closer as shouts echoed from the tarmac beyond and the roar of vehicles increased. “I’ve been dealing in the Congo for a long time. Made a lot of contacts through the years and padded many a pocket, but you didn’t consider that, did you Chago?”
“The location of the guns.” He placed the barrel of his Glock between Drake’s eyes and smiled. Just give me a reason asshole and I’ll blow your fucking brains to kingdom come. “Tell me now and I may allow you to live.”
Sirens wailed. Chago glanced out the window and spotted armed guards storming the tarmac. Goddammit.
“Those officers are here for my rescue. You see, I informed the authorities about a planned terrorist threat on my life today. I agreed to assist them in making the capture. Big international conspiracy equals major recognition. Win-win.”
Two tear gas canisters flew through the main cabin door and soon filled the space with chok
ing smoke. Turay seized the opportunity to escape through the busted cargo bay door and Irena emerged from the exit row beside Innocent. Christ Almighty, could anything go right today? She should have been long gone from this place. Beyond pissed, he yelled for Innocent. “Get her out of here!”
He waited until they disappeared through the hatch before turning back to Drake.
“No! No! Please don’t fire!” The asshole’s tone shook with feigned terror as he dropped to his knees and held out his hands in mock surrender. What the fuck was happening now? Thick, caustic smoke obscured the arrival of the first troopers. Soon more soldiers crowded the aisle and the barrel of a Russian assault rifle pushed deep into Chago’s spine. At the order of his captors, he dropped his weapon and knelt on the floor.
Drake rose and moved to the side to converse with the head officer while Chago was restrained. Guards now flanked him on either side, their weapons pointed at his temples. Before his departure, Drake crouched to retrieve Chago’s discarded Glock and leaned close to whisper a last insult. “Good look for you. Supplicant.”
Chago fought the urge to tear out the man’s trachea. Now wasn’t the time. Not when sniper lasers dotted his chest and Irena raced across the tarmac to safety.
The guards escorted him out of the plane to a waiting armored truck.
As he ducked to climb inside, Chago caught sight of Irena and Innocent through the terminal windows. They’d reached Xander and Luther and now pointed furiously in Chago’s direction. His commander looked up and they locked gazes. At least something had gone right this day.
Chapter 14
They traveled for what seemed like hours.
Chago scanned the cloistered interior of the transport for an escape route or something to fashion into a weapon. The surrounding guards scowled and fidgeted in the stagnant air, the pungent odor of sweat thick in the rear of the jostling vehicle.
Before he could locate a viable option, a familiar voice rained disdain all over his save-the-day parade. “You didn’t honestly believe your half-assed plan would succeed, did you?”
Fists clenched, he unleashed a volley of visual daggers at the man responsible for his current incarceration. “And what do you hope to accomplish by arming these rebels to the eyeballs? World domination?”
“In this hellhole?” Drake’s phony chuckle pinged off the thick steel walls like machine gun fire. “Like I give two shits about these filthy scum.” He slapped away a persistent insect from near his ear. “No. My plans are much more civilized.”
Chago held the dubious honor of dealing with more than his share of power-hungry maniacs and Drake was nothing if not an oozing bag of ebullient charm mixed with the deceit of a world-class sociopath. The night of the fundraiser gala, the sneaky bastard had bilked those loaded billionaires before they realized his sticky fingers were anywhere near their pockets. “Civilized my ass.”
“Yes. It’s too bad your friends will be deprived of your sparkling conversation, but where you’re going, there’s no visitors allowed.” Drake settled into a corner of the hard metal bench, crossed his legs, and folded his hands atop his knee like a choirboy waiting for the sermon to start. “Don’t worry though. I’ll be sure to look after Irena when you’re gone.”
The thought of Irena at the mercy of this asshole again made him want to vomit. “If you so much as breathe on her, I swear I’ll—.”
A rifle butt slammed into his temple and sharp pain brought an abrupt end to his tirade. Blood trickled slow from the fresh wound, matching the steady burn of his fury.
In a burst of adrenaline, Chago wrapped the chain between his handcuffs around the neck of a nearby guard, choking the man in an attempt to gain control of his weapon. His efforts earned him another barrage of kicks and punches.
Drake sat back and observed the scene with a look of abject boredom. “So hard to find good mercenaries these days.”
Head pounding, he continued, undaunted. “You won’t succeed.”
“I already have.”
The truck jerked to a stop.
He tried to see past the bars dividing the driver from the rear compartment, but a rifle barrel forced him back against the wall. Given the time and the vehicle’s speed, Chago guessed they’d driven a moderate distance, but he had no idea of the direction. If the whiff of scorched elephant grass and mildew was any indication, he was now somewhere close to the coastline.
The cargo doors opened to blinding light. Two guards dragged him out and forced him to kneel on the baking ground.
“I’d like to say it’s been a pleasure, but I don’t want to waste a perfectly good lie.” Drake climbed into the passenger side of the truck then turned to the guards. “Make sure he’s dead. And burn the evidence. I don’t want any messy issues to crop up later.”
Drake took off in a spray of gravel.
The first bullet fired moments later.
Pain ripped through Chago as ammo lodged in his left chest, missing his heart by a few inches. A second round struck near his pelvis, nicking his femoral artery. Blood pooled beneath him, the coppery metallic tang swelling as his consciousness wavered. Only the dark odor of gunpowder registered after the third strike, his senses beyond overloaded. The final bullet grazed behind his ear and across his temple, shattering bone but missing his vital brain tissue.
He slumped forward. Rocky earth stung his wounds as the soldiers lifted him and tossed his body into a nearby ravine and fled. For once, he was grateful the bastards didn’t follow orders.
Vision gone, his last tether on reality slipped. Inevitable death approached through the darkness and his last thoughts focused on Irena. He registered a distant vibration in his pocket, the final sensation of his failing nervous system before he plunged into the abyss. Time ceased and the world faded to peaceful, cocooning black.
Chago floated in a timeless vortex of soothing blankness, lulled into a tranquil, healing oblivion.
Awareness returned in stages.
Cool. Damp.
A quick glance around offered no clue to his whereabouts and a fast check of his limbs found everything in working order again.
He managed to stand, only to strike his head on a hard surface. Fumbling, he extended his hands to determine the dimensions of his shrouded surroundings. His fingertips registered the stark reality—small and without a tangible exit. Fantastic.
His phone, concealed from the soldiers and still in his possession, provided some illumination but no signal. The low battery light flashed near the upper right-hand corner of the screen. Shit.
Chago held the device aloft and performed a quick survey of the area, relieved to discover a hidden egress toward the rear of the cave, cramped but passable. He switched the device off to conserve power and stumbled forward as his eyes slowly readjust to the dark. Jaw clenched, he stuffed his large frame through the tunnel and out into a much larger enclosure. A crevice in the rocks aloft allowed a few beams of light to shine through and provided his only means for escape.
Several large boulders rested in one corner. Chago stacked them to construct a makeshift ladder and a modicum of hope returned. With Xander and Luther’s help, they’d ensure Irena’s safety.
Life was good.
A sneeze issued from the tunnel entrance, followed by a menacing growl. He turned slowly to find dozens of eyes gleaming orange in the gloom, the occasional flash of fangs bright as incandescent bulbs. A pack of hyena eyed him like filet mignon.
Life was bad.
He continued to stack rocks while the clan circled, their tongues lolling and saliva dripping. They were hungry—starved, if their gaunt faces and poking ribs were any indication. Chago eyed the space between his capstone and the hole in the ceiling. If he jumped he might make it. If he fell, he most certainly wouldn’t. Even immortality had its limits.
Years of Scion training had drilled the rules into his head. If the main portions of his body remained intact, he would survive. Scattered parts meant all bets were off. With no one else available to pic
k up his pieces—and the way the mangy pack appeared ready to pounce, there would definitely be pieces—he’d be a goner.
The alpha jumped to his makeshift tower’s base.
Chago scrambled higher on the pile with the snap of jaws sharp on his heels. The exit loomed farther than his outstretched grip. Jagged rocks offered the promise of a solid hold, if he could extend his reach. He glanced down to find the rest of the pack had followed their leader. One pair scrambled higher to a small shelf of rock. The alpha leapt for another shot, his yellow eyes bright with deadly intent.
Out of options, Chago drew a deep breath and jumped. His fingertips scrabbled against the sharp stone, his legs swinging in a perilous arc above the cavern. Biceps strained, he hoisted up and attempted to climb toward the opening. He reached and found purchase, but his relief was short lived. A crack echoed through the cave. The chunk of rock beneath his grip broke free.
Arms flailing, he plummeted.
Time seemed to slow.
A patch of blue sky above twinkled a merry taunt at his fall.
His body impacted the hard stone floor with the force of a one-mile nosedive. The air exploded from his lungs and his bones shattered like dry chalk, rivaling the agony of the canines tearing his flesh to shreds.
His final groan escaped as a solemn prayer. “Irena.”
Chapter 15
Irena sat curled up in the corner of the sofa in Xander’s room, her phone in hand. Every vibration of the device prompted her to scroll furiously through the delivered messages, hoping for a word from Chago.
Days ago, she hadn’t known he existed. Now, it seemed she couldn’t survive without him. No other man appealed to her in the way he did. No other person touched that area inside of her, wounded and broken by atrocity. No other soul seemed so attuned to hers. Damn, she missed him. If honesty prevailed, her heart had struck a proprietary claim on the brooding warrior the night of the fundraiser gala.
Seven Seals, Books 1 & 2 Page 35