Chris felt a grip on his hand. Tsu was squeezing it tight, looking into his eyes with tears in hers.
“We have to end this. We have to end this,” was all Ned could say. “They have to pay.”
“Where are you?”
“Ethiopia. Where are you?”
“Okapi. We came to help Haley.”
“Thank you, buddy. But it’s too late for her now.”
Ned’s tears began again, before he pulled himself together. “But it’s not too late to make them sorry.”
“I intend to,” Chris said firmly. “If it’s the last thing I do.”
“Well, maybe this will help you. Haley gave me some information. The Butcher has a secret tunnel to escape from the palace if he is under threat. It leads from his bedroom to an acacia tree way out in the wilderness east of the palace.
“Thanks, that could be useful. I mean...I’m sure it will be.”
Chris corrected himself because there was no way he was going to let Ned think Haley’s last effort to save people would be in vain. Plus, it really was great intel.
“Flush him out,” Ned said, his voice now steady. “We need to find a way to flush him out.”
“I’ll do it. Don’t worry. But you’re in no shape to think clearly right now. You’re better off far away from here. Get Haley home and make sure she gets a proper send-off. The kind she deserves. I love you, man.”
“I love you too, Chris. Thanks for doing this. I’ll get my sister home.”
Ned’s turmoil was so great that he did not hear the commotion outside the door. The shouting, and the angry voices as people were being shoved around. He was only aware that something was going on when he felt the muzzle of a gun at the base of his skull.
A hood was placed over his head. His hands were bound before he even had time to struggle. As he was marched out of that hut, he tried to wrestle off the attackers. The butt of a rifle was slammed into his head, knocking him to the ground. Although he could not see, he knew he was being put into the trunk of a car. The trunk slammed shut. Ned knew exactly who these men were. The Butcher’s henchmen come to carry him the short distance over the border...and into hell.
34 Breaking And Entering
Chris and Tsu were sitting at the edge of their sagging and bug-ridden single beds, facing each other and leaning forward as they tried to concoct a plan. They each had large Scotches in small glasses that had been scratched and chipped by previous guests in this sorry excuse for a hotel.
“Well,” Chris said, swirling the whiskey in the glass. “Getting into the palace is too risky and will take too long. We can’t get to The Butcher directly.”
“But we can get to his generals. Whichever of them are attending the rugby club dinner,” Tsu replied.
“Exactly.”
“We need to get to those generals, and we need to get to the rugby club soon. Security will be extremely tight in the twenty-four hours leading up to the event. Maybe even before.”
“Is right now soon enough?”
“Why not. If we get there tonight, we should be able to blend in with the regular guests. And we’ll need to make a stop at a gas station.”
Tsu raised her eyebrows and smiled lightly. There was something about watching Chris make a plan that really got her juices flowing.
They reached the club as the sun was setting, and long shadows of drinkers holding iced cocktail glasses fell across the browning rugby pitch. Although the full and fierce evening heat made Chris and Tsu crave a cold drink, it made no sense to hang around in public for too long showing their faces. They had to find a place to stow themselves away while the normal social life of the club dissipated and security increased in readiness for the event involving senior military figures.
They quickly found the electrical room, knowing that it was likely to be located close to an exterior edge on the ground floor for ease of installation. They were soon cramped inside a tiny metal enclosure meant to contain only wires and distribution boards.
As midnight approached and drinkers drifted away, the security presence took over the club. Chris and Tsu were crouching in silence when they heard a door creak open. Two men were talking in low voices, instructing a detection dog. Slowly, Chris twisted off the top of the windshield washer fluid bottle he had in his possession. The fluid was for a later part of his plan, but he was improvising. He deliberately spilled some onto himself and Tsu.
It was immediately clear the men were part of the palace security detail, as they were discussing high-level matters between instructions.
“They have taken Lysha. The maid,” one man said. “She will be burned along with the others.”
“No doubt she deserves it.”
The second voice was now closer than the first had been. The men were right outside the enclosure, where Chris and Tsu were huddled inside...trying not to breathe. They could hear the dog’s claws scratching on the floor. Then, stillness. A low rumble of a growl came from the mutt’s throat. They braced for the door to open and chaos to ensue. Instead, the dog’s footsteps shuffled away.
A handheld radio crackled and the first man said “all clear.”
Tsu smiled, knowing Chris’s quick thinking had saved them by disguising their scent.
The door to the electrical room closed and the voices moved away down a corridor. The room was once again silent.
“Well,” Tsu said. “What should we do now?”
Chris thought, and hoped, he detected the slightest hint of a smile at the corner of her lips.
“I’ll be honest, I don’t think we have many options.”
They were talking in very low voices. In fact, talking would have to be avoided as much as possible. Sleep would be extremely difficult due to their cramped positions and the nervous energy they had before any hazardous mission. There was so little space that their legs were intertwined. Tsu was staring intently into Chris’s eyes. She began to rub the top of her toes against his calf muscle. She had told him before how much she enjoyed those chiseled, solid muscles. Back at the beach in Rio, when life was much more simple. For a short time, anyway.
Chris’s ex-wife had also admired his leg muscles, but of course Chris didn’t mention that to Tsu. In fact, he didn’t feel the need to say anything at all, as the heat in that tiny space began to rise. Tsu leaned slowly towards him, maneuvering her long legs so that she could get as close as possible. Her chest was pressed against his. He breathed in her sweet scent, wondering how she could still smell so good in a situation like this. Their lips met with the lightest touch. There was a moment where time seemed to stop. Then, the kiss was deep and filled with desire; the lust, and love, and anger of the past few weeks emerging unrestrained. Containing their passion in silence was almost impossible, but it was channeled into sensations instead of noise, making the experience even more intense. For a short time, they could forget the world.
The stillness of early morning only added to the tension that Chris and Tsu were feeling. The heat was already building, the sun threatening another day of ferocious heat.
Despite having slept in an electrical room, Tsu was looking stunning. Chris couldn’t help but admire how she looked so beautiful under any circumstances. He had spent so much time with her, but it never failed to amaze him.
He had no doubt that the man who would soon be delivering food and produce for the evening’s event would be distracted by her. She had unbuttoned her top, and Chris could tell that she was already straightening her posture and pushing out her chest.
It was before six in the morning, and the two of them guessed that any vehicle they heard at this time would surely be a delivery. They waited, the sweat on their brows increasing. After thirty minutes, the rumble they had hoped to hear finally came.
From behind a bush, they spied the white van traveling along the road up towards the clubhouse. It was time to put the plan into action. They stumbled out of the bushes arm in arm, like a couple who had been drinking all night.
Chris had a flas
k in his hand, usually reserved for tea or coffee. Instead, it contained windshield washer fluid. Tsu planned to distract the driver with some flirting while Chris stepped around to the back of the van and liberally tipped the fluid into any food items where it was likely to remain throughout the preparation process.
The van came to a stop outside the clubhouse, and Chris stepped behind a wall. The driver exited the vehicle and opened the doors. Chris could see that the van contained large bottles of orange juice, most likely for mimosas that were generally served before meals in this hot climate. Even better. Unlike some of the food dishes, it was unlikely the windshield washer fluid would be unwittingly removed from there by the chefs. But that was where Chris’s luck ended.
He needed Tsu to buy him the time to step up to the back of the van and do his job. The plan was for her to do that by engaging the man's base instincts...but there was a problem.
The driver was not a man. It was a buxom woman with a stern expression on her face. She carried the first trays into the clubhouse then quickly exited again. Tsu stepped into her path. While Chris was sheltering himself behind the wall at the corner of the clubhouse, he could hear Tsu crying.
“I’m sorry,” she sobbed. “Can you help me?”
There was no reply. Tsu continued regardless: “My husband just told me he wants to divorce, we had a huge row and he walked off. I don’t know where I am or how to get home. Where am I?”
“Sorry, no,” the driver said. She clearly didn’t speak a lot of English and wanted no part of this drama. Chris wasn’t wasting any more time, because he didn’t know how long Tsu would have. Light-footed, he stepped over to the van. The doors were still open and he jumped inside, liberally distributing the fluid into trays and bottles.
He hid in the shadows as the driver came back and picked up a stack of more trays, helped by someone from the club.
Chris could still hear Tsu speaking.
“Please, I just need to know how to get back to the city. I’m not from here.”
There was no response, and Chris could hear the driver's footsteps shuffling off. Then, shouting. Loud.
“On the ground! Now!”
Chris paused, trying to assess the situation. But it could only be one thing: someone had come for Tsu. Instinctively, he made his way to the back of the van to try to rescue her. The doors were slammed closed. The driver had passed the final trays to someone at the door and quickly closed up the van to avoid being caught up in the situation with the security forces. The engine started and the vehicle moved away. Chris ducked behind a crate.
He crawled to the back and tried to open the doors. They wouldn’t budge. He guessed they could be bolted on the outside for extra protection. The van was out of the rugby club grounds and back onto the main road, with Chris speeding away from Tsu and any chance of helping her. He felt sick with fear for her.
The van drove for twenty minutes without stopping. When it finally did, and the driver opened the doors, Chris leapt out and ran. The driver shouted in surprise and anger, and Chris immediately disappeared down a dirty alleyway.
An hour later, he was sitting on the edge of the bed in the hotel room he had so recently shared with Tsu, the grim expression on his face suggesting he would be ready and willing to kill the next person he saw.
He was watching the stuttering TV, and the BBC World Service delivering constantly rolling news about events in Okapi over the last few hours. The news cycle had picked up the Okapi story again to its fullest extent after two particular incidents. The first was a report that more than one of The Butcher’s staff was suffering symptoms of poisoning at the palace. Chris knew that his plan had worked, but it was impossible to feel any kind of satisfaction given the situation he was now in.
The fluid that the men had ingested at the rugby club had acted slowly and revealed symptoms when the generals had returned to the palace that night. The Butcher’s security team could not be sure where the poisoning had actually taken place, so the palace was at panic stations. It was clear The Butcher would fear he may be next, and it could be someone on the inside targeting him.
The second piece of news was the release of satellite images that showed construction taking place on the edge of the palace grounds, far from any other buildings. The structure appeared to be an aircraft hangar in progress, taking up a very large space.
It was obvious to Chris, however, that this was not supposed to hold planes. He called Frank, and in a low voice asked his friend what the latest assessment of the situation was.
“Best guess, we are about to witness the most harrowing live TV broadcast the world has ever known,” Frank explained. “He has taken those people with the sole intention of burning them alive and showing it to the world. And he will use American weapons to do it.”
“What are the CIA doing about it?”
“Not enough.”
“Understood. Thanks, buddy.”
In that tiny hotel room, Chris was surrounded by items that in any other country would have him arrested immediately. But in this part of Africa, they were easy to come by and they were bought and sold without a second thought. He had several grenades and multiple containers filled with gasoline. Methodically, he loaded them into a large backpack then stepped out onto the street, dressed in clothing acquired from the market. Under cover of darkness, he was headed to the palace.
Chris was in a foxhole twenty feet from the solitary acacia tree. He had arrived at the location in robes with a turban covering his face, just like the Shanegia tribe that had rescued Ned in the desert. He had done everything he could to blend in with the local population, knowing that if The Butcher tried to make his escape that way then security would be very tight.
For now, though, there was no one around. Chris had quickly dug the hole and covered it with a mesh net he had attached soil to. He also had mud smeared on his face to camouflage himself.
He was sitting in that dark hole surrounded by a million insects, but he cared nothing about the discomfort. He took out a long knife from his backpack, one of the many weapons he had acquired. His period of being in disguise would soon be over. The next time he saw anyone, he wanted them to know who he was. They wanted to bait him, and it had worked. He used the knife to shave his beard, and the hair fell from his face along with layers of skin. He was ready for much worse pain than that.
He sat in silence, but this was not a time for contemplation. His mind was almost empty, and all he was doing was rehearsing what may come in the next few hours. Visualizing the environment and repeating his plan.
When dawn came and he could hear birds beginning their song, he also heard the sound of a vehicle. It was unusual for this area as almost nobody had any reason to come to this wasteland. He had to assume that whoever was in the vehicle was there to collect The Butcher when he made his escape.
The leader’s security detail would know that satellite feeds would be constantly on the lookout for a convoy leaving the palace with him inside it. Instead, it seemed the plan would be as Chris had hoped and Haley had suggested. The Butcher would try to leave quietly, with just one vehicle, though no doubt full of guards, to collect him and slip away. There was almost certainly a decoy convoy and probably one of The Butcher’s look-alikes leaving the palace at the same time.
Chris felt like all of his senses were heightened. He could make out every sound. The door of the vehicle closed. After a short time, he could hear what sounded like soil being disturbed. He hoped it was because The Butcher’s guards were opening the exit dug into the ground that would allow the leader to leave the tunnel.
Very slowly, Chris pushed up the mesh with his fingertips and raised his head so that his eyes could see the level of the ground. Adrenaline gripped him as he saw The Butcher himself emerge from the hole. One of the guards helped him out. There was only one guard outside of the vehicle, and Chris could see at least two more inside.
He leapt out of his foxhole and immediately hurled a grenade at the ground next to the
SUV. All of the windows shattered, but that was not sufficient. He threw another grenade towards a patch of ground he had previously doused with gasoline. A giant explosion.
While the guards were distracted, Chris was sprinting across open ground. He launched himself through the air and plunged his shoulder into the guard closest to The Butcher. The leader and his guard both fell. Before anybody knew what was happening, Chris had launched a brutal right hook into The Butcher’s face.
While the leader was stunned, Chris grabbed him by the collar and dragged him across the mud towards the tunnel he had just exited. Both men plunged into the deep, dark hole. They landed with a thud. Chris was immediately back on his feet and struck The Butcher again.
The dictator slid down the curved wall, landing on his bottom in the dirt. He no longer looked like the glorious statesman he pretended to be. The man was putting up nothing of a fight. He held up his hands in front of him in a pathetic attempt at self-defense. Those hands were trembling.
Chris pulled the knife from his belt. He knelt down and put it to The Butcher’s throat. In his other hand was a radio he had deftly snatched from the belt of the guard as he’d grabbed The Butcher.
“Call off the attack,” Chris instructed coldly.
“Never!” The Butcher replied with a level of conviction that did not match the word he had uttered.
35 One Minute
Ned was being treated like he was no better than livestock. In fact, to the people who had captured him, livestock had more value. Ned was just another number that news stations would report had been burned to death in a nuclear cauldron constructed by The Butcher’s henchmen.
Ned was terrified. As soon as he had been dragged out of the car, a rifle butt had smashed into his face, breaking his nose. He had been dragged along the ground on his knees and forced into what looked like an aircraft hangar.
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