The Relentless Hero

by Angel Vane

  “Why is the virus taking so long?” Tubeec asked, scraping the edge of the syringe along Garbo’s face. A debilitating dose of a modified version of lazirprene would render Garbo’s body unresponsive to brain cues. Yet, he would still be able to feel the pain of his skin being sliced thousands of times with a razor blade, Tubeec’s current weapon of choice.

  Garbo glanced up toward Tubeec, then looked away.

  “I expanded the attack to ensure that all evidence against Rono would disappear. That means evidence gathered on others might also be erased, but I didn’t think you’d care about that,” explained Garbo.

  Garbo could obliterate all traces of electronic documents from the world with his Venom virus. IT experts and law enforcement agencies would bet their lives that the outcomes of Venom were impossible. An ignorance that worked to Garbo’s advantage as he made possible what no one could fathom. A virus that could creep undetected through the networks and servers around the world, strategically deleting targeted information was beyond comprehension. Complete and utter destruction of undesirable information could be attained in mere hours, with no proof the information had ever existed. Venom singlehandedly caused identities and data to vanish. Garbo’s virus had made it possible for Tubeec to avoid capture for the past decade.

  “I don’t. Make it run faster,” Tubeec ordered, releasing the man’s neck.

  Garbo nodded, ignoring his soiled pants as he sat back down and turned his attention to the computers lining one side of the old van.

  Tubeec took a step back, easing down onto the worn brocade covered bench seat lining the opposite wall. He twirled the syringe between his fingers.

  Tubeec ran a finger along the flash drive. The contents would give him the ammunition he needed to assert his influence over Deputy President Rono. And if Rono was successful in knocking Noah Thairu out of the top spot, Tubeec would have secured a president under his control. He would owe his success to the man who’d paid him handsomely to abduct Mena Nix. With the money and Mena’s close ties to Wangari Irungu, Tubeec had been inspired to grab the top-secret evidence he’d heard DPP Lagat was gathering against Rono.

  As lines of texts and strange graphics crowded the computer screens, Tubeec focused on the low symphony of the hacker’s fingers moving across the keyboard.

  The cell phone buzzed. Reaching down, Tubeec pressed the talk button and placed it against his ear. This was the call he’d been waiting for. Mena Nix should be secured at the airstrip, awaiting the arrival of the man his second team had been sent to deliver back to Kenya.

  “Mena Nix is … gone.”

  “What did you say?” Jolted, Tubeec clutched the phone tight.

  “She escaped. Bashiir, Dalmar and Harbi are out looking for her now,” Cangrejos said, a slight tremor in his voice.

  “Who was assigned to her? Who was supposed to take her to Mandera?” Tubeec asked, forcing his words through clenched jaws.

  “Rahim. He’s usually so good, I don’t know—”

  “Make him feel the consequences of his incompetence,” Tubeec said.

  “He’s missing, too. And there’s more bad news.”

  Tubeec sucked in a breath, then let it out slowly.

  A three-dimensional depiction of a globe appeared on the computer monitors across from him. Bright green lines lit up the globe as it turned, darting from city to city throughout Africa, Europe, and North America.

  “We lost five men at the compound about an hour ago in an attack.”

  “There should have been no attack. I paid al-Harakat handsomely to allow us passage in their territory,” Tubeec said, feeling his blood boiling.

  “It wasn’t al-Harakat. A team was sent to rescue the hostages. They got Wangari Irungu,” Cangrejos said, his words slow and measured. “But, Assad, Liban, and Suleymaan are with me.”

  “It couldn’t be ASF. Who was behind the attack?” Tubeec asked. Tubeec’s reputation would take a hit for this. He’d expected the ASF to be fumbling through the carefully crafted maze of confusion in Uganda, not orchestrating a sneak attack on the compound where he was holding Mena Nix and Wangari Irungu.

  “We think it was …” Cangrejos hesitated.

  “Tell me,” Tubeec demanded.

  “TIDES.”

  Tubeec almost dropped the phone, then regained his composure.

  Tactical and Intelligence Defense Executive Services.

  Created with money and resources he’d supplied.

  Owned and operated by Sunny Tate.

  A flash of the dark-skinned beauty assaulted his memories. Her legs straddling his scarred body, she’d writhed in ecstasy as he pumped hard into her, erupting in an explosive orgasm. She’d reached climax seconds after he did, satisfaction on her face as sweat ran down her neck and flowed between her ample breasts. Sunny hadn’t been repulsed by his disfigurement. Her hands caressed his rough, burned skin as if he was the man he’d once been before his life had been destroyed. The man his wife had loved.

  “Was Sunny there? Did she lead the attack?” Tubeec asked, his breath quickening as he stifled the erection threatening to grow from the memory of her.

  “I can’t be sure, but the coordination of the attack was definitely her handiwork. Calculating and methodical, executed with minimal errors,” Cangrejos responded.

  More like his handiwork. Sunny Tate had learned a lot in her year of captivity with him. More than he’d expected to share, but she’d beguiled him. And when she’d worked off the debt owed to him, he’d kept his word and released her.

  Tubeec rested his head against the warm metal of the side of the van. He didn’t need Wangari any longer. But Mena Nix was a different story. She’d made a fool of him by escaping his well-trained team. A fact that could never be known. Tubeec had to send the right message for this unfortunate turn of events.

  Garbo turned and gave him the thumbs-up sign. The destruction of evidence against Deputy President Rono was complete.

  Tubeec said, “How long have Assad and the others been searching for Mena Nix?”

  “Not very long, but she will be easy to find. The terrain is harsh, and she’s inexperienced.”

  “When you find her … encourage the men to … enjoy her. Make sure she won’t think about escaping again.”

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Squinting, Julian peered through the opened front door. The burned and charred remains of the compound’s stone wall still smoldered. Smoke tendrils danced toward the lightening morning sky. The heady stench of gun powder and rancid blood was strong.

  Julian stepped over the crumpled dead body of one of the kidnappers. Bullet holes riddled the wall where Julian and Enzo had eliminated each threat inside. Rounding the corner back into the hallway, he watched as Enzo secured the only gunman who’d surrendered. The man had stopped talking, refusing to divulge any further information about the motive for the kidnapping or what Tubeec had planned for the hostages. The only information the bastard had given about Mena was that she’d escaped. A small contingent of mercenaries had been sent out to find her shortly before the TIDES team arrived.

  Mena had been right here, in this compound.

  And now she was gone. He was too late.

  Julian watched as Glaze wrapped an arm around Wangari Irungu, leading her toward the front rooms of the compound. The heiress to the horticultural dynasty was overcome with emotion, crying as she leaned into Glaze, taking shaky steps forward. Deep purple bruises covered her neck and arms, marring her tan skin. Crusted dried blood trailed down the left side of her face from a cut on her eyebrow. Her eyes were disoriented and dazed.

  Julian turned away and walked down the hall. Where the hell had Mena gone? How could he find out? He had to track her down. Had to find her before Tubeec’s men did.

  Pushing through the door leading to the side of the property, Julian stepped out into the brisk humid morning air. Scanning the yard in the dim light of dawn, Julian saw something trampled in the dirt. He squatted down, lifting the object from the gr
ound. Batches of thin ropes darkened red from what he suspected was blood. Had Mena been outside when she got away from Tubeec’s men? Were these the ropes that had bound her? Had she found a way to free herself from the ropes and escape?

  “Coming in low for pick-up with ETA of three and a half minutes,” Sunny’s voice crackled through the earbud communications. “Reggie and his team have been alerted, and he’s diverting teams to Wajir County. Estimated arrival in one hour. They’re picking up the search for Mena. Julian, they’re going to find her.”

  Mena didn’t have an hour. They’d already lost too much time. She was out there alone, with trained killers hunting her. He didn’t know how many of Tubeec’s men had left to search for Mena, but there was no way any of them wanted to report back to their leader that they’d lost one of the hostages. From what he remembered, Tubeec considered any type of failure by a member of his team to be a one-way ticket to the grave.

  “Copy that,” Glaze spoke into his headset.

  Julian asked, “Sunny, what’s the closest town to the compound? How far away would Mena need to go to reach people?”

  “Pretty far … over thirty miles in any direction. Given how close we are to the Somalian border, let’s hope she didn’t head that way,” Sunny responded.

  Tubeec’s men, al-Harakat, and marauding bands of rebels from Somalia weren’t Mena’s only concerns. As day replaced night, she’d get hit with the brutal heat of the desert. Even if she could hide from the men tracking her, she wouldn’t last long without food and water. Two days. Maybe three. His biggest fear was that she would get lost, roaming in circles and heading nowhere, increasing the likelihood that she’d succumb to dehydration, exhaustion, and heatstroke. Too many ways for her to lose her life out here. He couldn’t let that happen. He was going to find her. Now.

  From the horizon, the helicopter came into view, dipped low, and landed about a hundred yards away. Blades whipped the wind into a frenzy, sending plumes of red sand swirling in the air.

  Glaze ran ahead, half-carrying Wangari toward the helo. Enzo followed close behind, his gun trained on the member of Tubeec’s team they’d captured.

  Jumping inside the helicopter first, Glaze turned and easily lifted Wangari inside, disappearing into the cabin. Enzo poked the captive in the back. The man fell forward then struggled to scramble into the helicopter with his hands and legs bound by ropes. Enzo turned and stared at Julian, waving an arm for him to come.

  The dark bloodstains of the ropes in his hand convicted him. He knew what he had to do. He’d known from the first moment he met Mena, standing outside her workshop at the Genesis Gallery, that she was a fighter. She wouldn’t let life knock her down without trying to get back up and survive. He’d marveled at her bravery time and again as they fell in love. He couldn’t be upset with her for taking the opportunity to escape from the compound. She hadn’t known help was on the way. That he was doing everything in his power to bring her home safe.

  “Montgomery!” Sunny said. “Don’t do this. Don’t go after her alone. Wait for the ASF teams!”

  “I can’t,” Julian said, then turned and walked away from the helicopter. Approaching the stone wall, he picked up his backpack where he’d discarded it. Scaling the wall, he sat on top of it, surveying the land.

  Mena was desperate, scared, and alone. The night sky would have been brightening, but still dark enough to provide cover. Which way would she have gone?

  Spotting a copse of trees in the distance, Julian jumped down from the wall and ran in that direction.

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Raising her shirt over her face, Mena dipped her head low, hoping to avoid swallowing the gritty dust again.

  She’d been running for what felt like hours, zigzagging across the arid desert, plunging toward the sparse clusters of dying trees, stumbling over dead livestock carcasses infested with flies, trying to seek refuge. The gunmen hunting her were never far away. Their voices drifted across the wind as they called out to each other in their tribal languages, determined in their pursuit to capture her. Mena knew she would be killed the moment they found her.

  Stumbling forward, she raced toward brush clustered along deep ruts in the sand of what seemed to be a makeshift road. Should she follow it? Or would it lead back to danger? Would the gunmen expect her to make that move? A dull ache, throbbing near her temples, disrupted her thoughts. Her desperation to escape had placed her in a worse predicament.

  Mena stifled a wail as she squeezed between the brush. Digging her hand into the coarse sand, she smeared it over her shirt to camouflage herself, praying it would prevent the men from seeing her.

  Leaving the compound might have been her biggest mistake. But when she’d heard Wangari’s gut-wrenching cries laced with pure terror, she’d panicked. The brutal sounds of fists against skin had been enough to convince Mena to take her life into her own hands. She’d acted on instinct, hoping to save herself from suffering the same fate as Isaac and Wangari, either at the hands of Tubeec’s men or whoever had hired him to abduct her.

  Now, she was alone in the desert with no food, no water, and no idea what to do next.

  The sky was brightening. The sun would be rising soon. How much longer could she hide from the gunmen? In the growing daylight, she wouldn’t be able to conceal her location for long.

  Settling within a divot between a tangle of brittle branches, Mena peered out in the distance. She could still hear the men communicating but couldn’t tell which direction they would be coming from. She hoped she was hidden enough by the trees to not be seen. Mena pulled her knees to her chest, wrapping her arms tightly around her legs as her body shook violently from exhaustion and pure fear.

  She’d had other occasions to think about her death. Times when she’d been certain she wouldn’t make it out alive. Snatches of memories of her life flashing across her mind as she prepared for what she’d expected to be the end.

  But each time, she’d skirted death. Saved by the man who loved her.

  Julian had risked his own life, time and again to bring her from the brink of danger.

  Wangari’s family had hired TIDES for security and protection. By now, Julian must know she’d been kidnapped along with Wangari and Isaac. Was he out there somewhere trying to find her and save her from the maniac who’d taken her? Could she dare to believe he would save her once again? Or was all hope gone?

  A heavy force pressed down against Mena’s back, toppling her into the dirt. She screamed, tasting bitter earth on her tongue as she struggled to identify her attacker. Turning, she stared into the dark, dangerous eyes of one of the kidnappers who’d held her at the compound.

  He jerked her from the ground, clamping a damp, dusty hand against her mouth. Mena struggled against the weight pressing against her back, trying to free herself as she was yanked from the brush.

  “Shh, shh,” the gunman whispered in her ear.

  Rahim.

  The same man who’d showed her kindness by loosening the ropes on her wrists. The man who’d unwittingly helped orchestrate her escape.

  He turned her toward him slowly, then crouched low behind the brush. She saw the same kindness in his eyes she’d witnessed earlier. Was he going to take her back to the compound, or was he here to help her escape?

  Rahim pressed his finger to his mouth, then gently brushed dust from her face, his fingers lingering against her lips. Mena sat rigid, unmoving, waiting for his next move. Her chest heaved from her ragged breaths.

  With his other arm, he pointed toward the road. Rahim pressed his arms and knees onto the ground, effecting a crawling motion, then pointed again in the direction of the road.

  “Safe,” Rahim whispered, then pointed again. “Safe.”

  Mena nodded slowly. She needed to crawl, stay low, and follow the road to safety. She didn’t know where it would lead, but she knew she had to trust him.

  “Go,” Rahim urged, slinging his rifle over his shoulder, pointing frantically toward the road again.
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  The shouts of tribal words grew louder in the air as the sun begin to peek over the horizon. Rahim looked concerned, peering back through the bushes to the vast canvas of desert behind them.

  Scrambling forward, Mena moved past Rahim toward the road. Broken branches and rocks lodged in the dirt scratched her knees and hands, stinging her skin, but she pressed forward. As she reached the edge, she dared to stand and run, putting more distance between herself and the danger following them.

  Rushing through the gnarled branches clawing at her clothes, Mena forced her legs to go faster.

  Stumbling along the ruts, she cut across the road to another cropping of trees. Her legs burned as the ground sloped upward, then abruptly flattened. Mena stumbled to a stop along a ridge. A gust of wind whipped through her hair, hot and blustering against her dry skin. The road angled downhill toward a small building in the distance, surrounded by a low stone fence a couple hundred yards away.

  Did Rahim know about this place? Was this where he wanted her to go for safety?

  Small puffs of dust erupted from the sand as the rapid-fire pops of bullets whizzed around Mena, pelting the ground.

  Screaming, she didn’t dare look behind her as a symphony of gunshots rang out. Ducking low, she tumbled down the hill, barely keeping her footing as she raced toward the small concrete building ahead.

  “Go, go, go!” Rahim shouted from behind her as he returned fire at the gunmen chasing them.

  The angry shouts grew louder and more insistent as the gunshots continued. Mena ran closer to the low stone fencing, her eyes drawn to a large tree in the corner with tangled branches, curving and broken into a nearly perfect heart-shaped hole near the top. The sun peeked through the heart, casting bright rays on the pale blue painted concrete house looming in front of her. A beacon to safety if she could just make it there.

  A deep, guttural moan arrested her movement. Mena turned and watched as Rahim’s body shook violently from the force of dozens of bullets. He returned fire, sending his shooter to the ground as he fell, his body jerking and twisting as it rolled down the hill toward the stone fence.