Northern Sun: Book Four in The Mad Mick Series

by Franklin Horton

  Mumin’s mouth tightened as he swallowed the bitter pill of his fate. He had no choice. He had to go. If he went with Conor, he could plead for their lives. He could beg for mercy. He could offer to die in their place. If he stayed in that gun locker, his family had no one to advocate for them. “I’ll go.”

  “I knew you would,” Conor said. “You think you’re smart, but you’re no different than most of the terrorists I’ve dealt with over the years. You think you’re masterminds but you’re no more than cowards. You’re weak, scared children.”

  Mumin leaned forward to expose his flex-cuffed hands, allowing Conor to cut them. “I’m not a terrorist.”

  “I know exactly what you are, Arif Mumin.”

  Mumin clamped his mouth shut, understanding his pleas were falling on deaf ears. He got to his feet and Conor gave him a quick search.

  Finding nothing but a ring of keys, Conor stepped away from him. “Here’s how this is going to go down. You’re going to explain to your family that I will be staying with them for a bit while you run next door. You’re going to let them know that they need to stay in a single room and listen to what I say. If they don’t obey my orders, things will get ugly. You want to avoid that, don’t you?”

  Mumin nodded.

  “While I’m staying with your family, you’re going to tell George that you wish him to interrogate the female prisoner in the storage building, away from the other men. There might be complaints about this, but I suggest you put on your big girl panties and be forceful. I strongly suggest you don’t give away my presence. If this turns into a fight, your family will be the first to die.”

  “What do you intend to do?”

  Conor scratched his chin. “Well, if you go along with the program, I’ll leave your family here safe and sound while I join you in the storage building. When I get there, I’ll kill George, then I’ll kill you, and I’ll rescue my teammate.”

  “That sounds like a lousy plan,” Mumin said.

  “There’s no use whining about it, mate. Every variation of the plan still involves you dying. I’m afraid that’s a given, regardless of which road we go down. The sooner you accept that the better off you’ll be.”

  Mumin laughed bitterly. “That’s not such an easy thing to accept.”

  “It’s easier when you understand this is the only way your family is not harmed. You want them caught in the middle of a battle?”

  “No,” Mumin agreed. “I’m ready. Let’s do this.”

  19

  Conor stuck his head out the door of the storage building and scanned his surroundings. When Mumin built this compound he intentionally designed the buildings without windows to prevent people from seeing inside. The other side of that coin was that it prevented people in those buildings from seeing outside. It looked like the only two people Conor had to worry about were the two men stationed at the front of the men’s dormitory. Since George’s return, they were sitting in folding chairs, smoking, and talking to each other.

  With a wave of his arm, Conor directed Mumin out the door. They slipped around behind the storage building, putting the structure between them and the men’s building. Conor had hoped there would something that might offer sufficient concealment for him and Mumin to cross the field to Mumin’s house but there was not. The board fence stopped short of Mumin’s yard, leaving at least a hundred feet of open ground directly in sight of the men’s building. Conor couldn’t risk moving in the open with those men on the porch. Why couldn’t things be easy?

  He pointed Mumin down over the embankment, into the swampy woods. Mumin didn’t protest but he didn’t look thrilled with the prospect either. He wasn’t dressed for this kind of outing. His pristine running shoes lost traction almost immediately and he went down hard, sliding on the seat of his “mom jeans” to the bottom of the embankment. He cried out when he painfully jammed feet-first into a clump of rocks and stumps.

  “Quiet!” Conor hissed, clouting Mumin on the head when he reached him.

  Mumin rubbed his head and struggled to his feet. Conor shoved him in the direction of his house and Mumin began to walk, limping now. He cautiously picked his way over slippery logs and glacier-smoothed boulders. His awkwardness indicated a man who spent little to no time walking on anything other than manicured lawns, sidewalks, and groomed trails. He was a pansy.

  When Conor sensed they were close to Mumin’s home, he halted him and scrambled up the bank. Seeing they were indeed in position behind the dwelling, he waved Mumin up to join him. It took way too long. Conor rolled his eyes as Mumin had several false starts in which he began climbing only to lose his balance and stumble back down. Twice more his feet slipped out from under him and he fell on his outstretched arms. Finally, he learned to wedge his toes into the bank enough that he could make steps. In that manner, he tediously ascended the bank before falling onto his stomach beside Conor.

  “‘Bout fucking time,” Conor growled. “Men climb Everest faster than that.”

  “I’m sorry,” Mumin mumbled.

  Seeing no one around, Conor got to his feet in Mumin’s backyard. Mumin was on all fours, heaving as he dragged himself onto the flatter ground of his yard. He pushed to his feet, swaying and breathing hard.

  “We’re going in the back door,” Conor said. “Lock it behind us. You’re going to assemble everyone and we’re going to have a little talk. It’s up to you to keep them calm and make them listen. It’s critical they understand that compliance is the key to survival. Got it?”

  Mumin bobbed his head, sweat rolling down his forehead. “I understand.”

  Conor let Mumin pass. He fell in step behind him and they were at the back door in seconds.

  Mumin twisted the knob and the door opened. He gave Conor a nervous look, then stepped into his house. “Maybe they’re not home,” he joked but it fell flat.

  Conor tossed his head in the direction of the living room. “Get going. Take me to the private living quarters.”

  Mumin’s lips tightened at the thought Conor knew the details of his living arrangements. He had to be aware that the imposter cleaning lady had been inside his house. He led Conor through the living room and down the hall to the door marked “Private.” The door wasn’t locked and Mumin went right in, holding the door for Conor. Inside was a steep set of stairs.

  “Go ahead,” Conor said. “Ladies first.”

  Conor let Mumin get several steps ahead of him, then followed him up the stairs. Conor transitioned back to his handgun in the confined stairwell. In the distance, from the space at the top of the stairs, Conor heard children playing.

  “Easy now,” Conor whispered. “Let’s not get anyone injured. Don’t do anything stupid.”

  Mumin reached the top of the stairs first. He plastered a fake smile on his face. There was a chorus of “Daddy!” from multiple voices. The children were all rushing toward him until Conor stepped into view. At his appearance, the children froze, turning tail and running toward their mothers. The two women, presumably Mumin’s wife and girlfriend, were frozen with fear at the sight of this unfamiliar man standing in their home and pointing a gun at Mumin.

  “Top of the morning to you,” Conor said in his charming brogue, throwing a nod in their direction. “I’ll let Mumin here make the introductions.”

  Conor’s demeanor did nothing to relax the terrified women. They clutched their children, afraid to move.

  “What is this?” one of them asked.

  Mumin gestured toward the woman who’d spoken. “This is my wife, Eleanora. The other woman is Patrina.”

  Conor grinned at that. “The other woman, huh? Literally? How’s that working out for you, boss? Having your wife and your girlfriend living under the same roof? I’m surprised you don’t get your ass handed to you every day.”

  Mumin gave him a reproachful look. “It is not a woman’s place to question what a man does or does not do. They are each blessed and they understand that.”

  Conor shook his head at the audacity of
it. “Blessed with your love, right?” He addressed the women. “You gals need to wise up at some point and kick this bum out. Unless you’re into the Stone Age love thing, women of this century have better options.”

  “Who is this crass man?” Eleanora asked.

  Patrina extended a hand and touched Eleanora on the arm. “Shhh, we must cover ourselves,” she said, holding a hand up in front of her face. “He should not be seeing us like this.” She started to get to her feet.

  “You’re not going anywhere,” Conor said, raising his voice. “Sit down.”

  One look at Patrina told Conor it wasn’t a hijab she was going for. Those fiery eyes said she meant to go for a weapon and take control of this situation. He would have to keep an eye on that one. He wasn’t allowing any of them, her in particular, out of his sight. He nudged Mumin with his handgun. They needed to get this show on the road. With each passing second, Shani could be suffering at the hands of those men.

  Mumin approached his women and crouched between them. He waved them closer. “Everything will be okay but I need to go next door and speak with the men. There’s been a problem in their building. This man will be staying with you until I return.”

  The women began to argue but Mumin held up a hand to silence them. “Enough! There is no discussion. No argument. This is what’s going to happen. I am leaving to visit the men’s house and speak with George. When I’m done, I’ll come get this man and he’ll be gone. That will be the end of it.”

  “Are you going to be okay?” Eleanora asked.

  Mumin was silent, giving her a lingering, doubtful look. He could not bring himself to tell them the truth. He could not admit that there was no scenario in which he was not going to die.

  “Are you?” Patrina echoed.

  “He’ll be fine,” Conor lied, giving Mumin an out. “Everything will be okay. He just has to do this one thing and I’ll be out of your hair. However, I won’t tolerate a lack of cooperation. You girls give me any trouble and I’ll tie you up.”

  They looked appalled.

  “I’m totally serious,” Conor said. “I’ll not tolerate any crap from you. You either listen to me or get tied up. Those are your choices.”

  The women were offended by Conor on all levels. He was gazing upon them without their hijabs, while they were dressed in casual clothing no man outside their family should see them in. He was speaking to them like a barbarian and threatening them directly in front of Mumin. This was intolerable.

  Sensing their frustration, Mumin sought to deescalate them. “This man is no joke. He will kill all of us if there is a problem. Me, both of you, and the children. Do not bring harm upon the children by acting impulsively. You stay on this couch and listen to what he says.”

  Conor nodded in agreement. “He’s right. He may be a lousy husband but he’s a good judge of character. Cause me any grief and this will end poorly for all of us.”

  “How will it end badly for you?” Patrina asked Conor. “We’ll be the ones dying.”

  Conor looked her square in the eye. “Because I’ll have to live with the memory of what I had to do here.”

  20

  Mumin left his house out the front door and marched nervously toward the men’s building. His knees felt weak, wobbly, but he didn’t think it was the exertion of his trek through the woods. He was terrified of what might be happening in his home. He couldn’t believe what had transpired over the course of this miserable morning.

  He’d been confident that they were beyond suspicion and beyond detection. To the best of his knowledge, the US government had collapsed and no one was able to pursue investigations on the federal level. How had he been found out? How much did the government know? Had they just uncovered his little piece of the puzzle or had the entire network behind the attacks been exposed?

  At the men’s building, Mumin hopped onto the porch and headed for the door. He had no intention of addressing the guards again, yet Qasim rocketed from his chair and placed himself in front of Mumin, blocking his path.

  Mumin let out a long sigh. “Are we really going down this road again?”

  “George is back.”

  Mumin nodded. “I’m aware of that. I’m here to speak with him.”

  “I’m not certain that he wants to be disturbed,” Qasim replied. He was looking down his nose at Mumin with an arrogant glare. Qasim despised men like Mumin. They considered themselves soldiers but never got their hands dirty, never spilled blood.

  Mumin didn’t have the patience to deal with Qasim’s attitude. He was tired of being pushed around. It was probable he was going to die before the day was out, so he had nothing to lose at this point. He stared right back at the man blocking his path. “Qasim, you can get out of my way or I’m going to shove that gun up your ass. Once I do, I’m going to pull the trigger until it’s empty.”

  The other guard, still sitting in his chair, burst into laughter at Mumin’s threat. Qasim didn’t find the situation to be funny at all. He opened his mouth, ready to tear into Mumin, but he didn’t get the opportunity. Mumin shoved past him and entered the house.

  The living room was more crowded than it had been on his first visit. There were perhaps a dozen men in heated conversation, weapons at hand. There was an explosive hostility to the room. These men were worried they’d been compromised and were anxious to extract the details from the woman prisoner.

  Mumin could sense that their distrust of him was heightened as well. They’d always looked down on him, in the way Qasim did on the porch, despite the efforts he made as a host. The ingrates had no appreciation for his hospitality.

  At his appearance, the men fell silent and never had their contempt been so palpable. Mumin felt like they wanted to kill him. It was certain they wanted to kill someone and he was likely the easiest target. As far as he was concerned, they’d have to get in line. They were not the first people today who wanted to taste his blood.

  Without a word, he stalked through the living room and down the hall. The man who’d been guarding the prisoner with Omar earlier was standing in the hall. He opened his mouth, intending to tell Mumin that George and Omar were busy in the room, but snapped it shut. The look on Mumin’s face was one he hadn’t seen there before—determination, frustration, and perhaps even a willingness to commit acts of violence if it came to that. In the face of Mumin’s resolve, the guard stepped aside.

  Mumin nodded as if to say “wise choice.” He opened the door and stepped inside.

  In the dark room, he spotted Omar standing in the corner, obsessively stroking his chin as he glared at the woman across the room. She was still tied and didn’t appear to have been injured beyond the blows she’d already taken when Mumin saw her last. George was straddling a folding chair positioned directly in front of her. He’d been speaking to her in a low voice when Mumin entered the room. Everything stopped and all eyes were on Mumin.

  “I need to speak to George alone,” Mumin said.

  Omar appeared reluctant to leave so Mumin repeated himself.

  “I said I need to speak to George alone!”

  Despite any misgivings Omar had about Mumin, he was compelled to respond to the man’s tone. He defiantly pushed his way past Mumin and left the room. Mumin slammed the door closed behind him. When he turned back around to face George, there was a moment where he found himself tempted to spill the whole story, to explain that there was a man at his house threatening his family and that he needed George’s help to save them. Yet he couldn’t. To do so would be a death sentence for his family. The man in his house was of the same cut as this woman before him. They were hard and deadly serious.

  “Have you learned anything?” Mumin asked.

  “She hasn’t uttered a single word. I was just explaining how she’s forced my hand, and that we’re going to have to take this to the next level, which would be very unfortunate for her.”

  Mumin nodded, studying the woman. “I don’t think we should interrogate her here, George.”

&nbs
p; George looked at him questioningly. “Why not? We have the others here in case we need to hold her down.” He turned back to Shani and winked. “You know, in case the pain becomes too much for her and she becomes uncontrollable.”

  Mumin stepped closer to George and lowered his voice. “If we have been compromised, I don’t want the men in this house to hear it from her. She might lie to try and incite them, to turn them against us. I want to interrogate her in private so we can choose what information to disseminate. These men are volatile. They’re ready to explode. She could be the fuel that causes that to happen. We need to get her out of here as soon as possible so that we control the outcome.”

  George looked uncertain. “And take her where? Your house?”

  “No.” Mumin swallowed. “The storage facility. No one has access to it but us. We can empty the gun locker and keep her there like a jail cell if we need to.” He could see the light coming on in George’s head. He was beginning to see the merits of this proposal.

  “I suppose we could do that,” George finally replied. “The men will protest, of course. The death of their companion has their blood running hot. They want vengeance.”

  “Are you armed?” Mumin asked.

  George looked at him like it was a ridiculous question. “I am your head of security. What do you think?”

  “Right now, you’re my only security and all of the men in this house appear to be armed.”

  “It won’t come to that. These men respect me. I can make them listen.”

  Mumin was doubtful.

  George went to the bed and shook a pillow free from its case. He dropped the pillowcase over Shani’s head. “I’m going to cut your hands loose and tape them together. We have a gun on you so I suggest you don’t try anything. It won’t go well for you.”