The Relentless Hero

by Angel Vane

  “What?” Julian asked, confused.

  “Hakeem didn’t take Mena for the bounty. Sure, he’s flashy and likes nice things. Bling bling and all that bullshit. But, he ain’t broke. None of us are. That bounty is big enough to make these poor ass rebel groups excited, but it’s a drop in the bucket for us. He could do a lot less to earn a lot more,” Enzo explained.

  Julian contemplated Enzo’s conclusion. Money was the easiest motive, but if that was off the table, what were they left with?

  “Could Tubeec be forcing him to do it?” Julian pondered the idea. If Tubeec was threatening Sunny, would Hakeem do whatever it took to protect his sister? Possibly. A theory he couldn’t share with Enzo as Sunny had sworn him to secrecy about her relationship with Hakeem. None of the TIDES team knew about their sibling bond.

  “That’s more feasible if you ask me. Won’t be long before we find out. If he’s in some kind of trouble, we’re going to do whatever he needs to help him. Once he sees us, I’m sure he’ll come clean about what’s going on. Hold on …” Enzo stopped, glancing down at his cell phone.

  “Is that Sunny?” Julian asked, hoping she’d gotten more information from Hakeem.

  “No. It’s Zale. She thinks Hakeem could be hiding out at a hut that was used by poachers a decade ago. Hakeem would have access to that info from our databases,” Enzo said.

  “As good a place to start as any.” Julian glanced at the map on the cell phone, then at his GPS coordinates. Steering the Humvee toward the right, he drove faster. His body bounced in the seat as the vehicle jostled along the deep ruts in the road.

  “Wake up, motherfuckers!” Enzo said, turning to shake Taye and Glaze. As he filled the others in on the intel they had so far, Julian focused on the square hut appearing in the distance.

  Julian steered the Humvee near what he hoped was the front of the structure and killed the ignition. The hut looked deserted. A wave of disappointment sliced through him. Had they gotten the location wrong?

  “Come with me Taye,” Enzo said. “Between me and you, we know enough Swahili and other tribal languages to communicate with any locals in the area. Let’s see if we can find someone who may have seen Hakeem or Mena.”

  Enzo and Taye jogged off toward a group of huts in the distance near a watering hole. Glaze lingered behind Julian.

  “If they were here, there’s got to be some tracks around. Footsteps, tire prints, something. I’m going to search around the hut and see what I can find,” Glaze said.

  Julian nodded, then stood still as the warm morning air blazed across his skin. The hut was small, constructed of tree branches, and plastered with mud. Compressed leaves and grass formed the thatched roof. Julian ducked his head, stepped onto the small porch and slipped through an opening. A faint lingering aroma of wood smoke wafted in the air. To the left was a stove built into the floor, embers barely perceptible as the fire died out. Lining the wall on the right were dozens of cowhides stacked one on top of the other forming two separate beds. Squatting low, Julian reached his hand toward shiny metal resting between the two beds.

  Squeezing his fingers around the object, he pulled it out and stared at the rose gold bracelet. The single heart-shaped charm engraved with the J and M he’d given to Mena rested in the palm of his hand.

  Mena had been here. This was where Hakeem had kept her, but where were they now? Mena had said they were leaving for Nairobi this morning. It was just after sunrise. Why weren’t they still here?

  “Julian!”

  Rising to his feet, Julian stuffed the bracelet into the pocket of his pants and emerged from the hut.

  “I found empty food wrappers in the brush and tire tracks of a Jeep leading south from here,” Glaze said, pointing to a spot a dozen yards away. “The tracks are fresh, within the last twelve hours or so.”

  Taye and Enzo came running over.

  “Any luck?” Taye asked.

  “I found Mena’s bracelet. She was here. Glaze found some JEEP tracks we can follow,” Julian said.

  “Not so fast.” Enzo held up a hand as he read something on his phone. “Zale sent another update. ASF was tracking a plane known to be carrying Tubeec Hirad and his team out of Ethiopia. The plane was originally scheduled to land in Wajir, but then it diverted mid-air and is tracking toward El Wak.”

  “Where is El Wak?” Julian asked.

  “It’s east of here, on the border. ASF has an outpost there and the Kenyan military uses it as a hub for delivering aid and provisions into Somalia,” Taye said.

  “That’s also where the Irungus are constructing greenhouses. Their private airstrip is right outside of that town,” Glaze said.

  “That’s right,” Enzo nodded. “If Hakeem hijacking Mena has anything to do with Tubeec, then I bet he’s headed there now.”

  Sliding his hand into his pocket, Julian gripped Mena’s bracelet in his hands, then said, “Let’s head to El Wak.”

  Chapter Forty-Seven

  The men kicked Hakeem in the side, once, twice, three times. Hakeem doubled over, vomiting a putrid yellow mass onto the red dirt. Coughing violently, he tried to shield himself from further blows and curled his body into a ball near the overturned Jeep.

  Mena laid motionless as the men surrounded her. Two of them leaned over, lifting her from the ground like a rag doll, and dragged her toward the military-grade 4x4 several feet away. She didn’t resisted. The malice in the dark eyes watching her sent a chill through her body. These were not men to fight back or disobey. They held none of the undercurrent of kindness she had witnessed with Rahim and even Hakeem. These men wouldn’t think twice about killing her if she tried to run away from them. They’d quickly put bullets in her back and leave her dying carcass for the animals to feast on in the hot sun.

  Opening the back door to the vehicle, one of the men lifted Mena into the air and rolled her into the rear compartment. Her body tumbled, flipping over and over until she landed with a hard thud against the back of the front seats. There were no side doors, only two rounded, thin rectangle windows near the roof of the vehicle on each side. As the sun began its full ascent into the sky, hot shafts of heated air shone onto the metal of the compartment. The men entered behind her, then slammed the door. The air grew still and quiet as each aimed a pistol directly at her.

  Closing her eyes, Mena tried to steady her heartbeat. Her arms and shoulders screamed with pain from being tossed into the vehicle. No doubt bruises were forming, but that was the least of her worries.

  She had become a commodity, traded back and forth amongst rebels. These men were her new owners, but who were they? Had Tubeec offered to pay the rebel groups in exchange for returning her to him?

  She’d heard Hakeem on the phone before dawn, relaying an account number for a funds transfer. Would her new captors be paid instead?

  But what if these men didn’t know anything about Tubeec Hirad? Where would they take her? What would they do to her?

  Mena closed her eyes and cautioned herself to be calm.

  What would Julian tell her to do in this moment?

  She could almost hear his voice, encouraging her to stay positive and not lose hope.

  Julian was always thoughtful and rational in the most dangerous of circumstances. She never once saw him panic or give up, even when the stakes were high. She had to follow his example right now, doing whatever her abductors told her to do.

  Trying to take matters into her own hands hadn’t worked last time. Another attempt to overturn a vehicle would likely get her killed. Her unplanned and ill-timed hasty decision had resulted in swapping her previous kidnapper with a group of men who were no doubt more deadly. Hakeem was surely the lesser of these two evils. She should have thought longer and harder before crashing the Jeep.

  The temperature inside the vehicle ratcheted higher. Mena watched the men as they drank from canteens, the water dripping along the sides and plopping to the floor. She prayed for a drop to quench her parched throat but they offered her nothing.

/>   Through the small windows, Mena saw the other two gunmen. The front doors of the vehicle opened and the men got inside, yelling instructions in a language Mena didn’t understand to the men in the back with her. They responded quickly, then maneuvered into new positions, each lifting a hand to hold onto a bar as the vehicle roared to life. Jerking forward, Mena banged her head against the floorboard as the vehicle took off.

  Time passed excruciatingly slow as the vehicle bumped and banged across the rough roads. Mena drifted in and out of sleep, exhaustion racking her body from the fear she’d been battling since she realized Hakeem wasn’t going to take her back to Nairobi.

  A cell phone rang. Mena peered up over her shoulder and saw the driver hand the phone to the rebel sitting in the passenger seat. The man spoke quickly in another language, his hands gesturing wildly as his voice grew more insistent. Then he was silent for a long moment. The gunmen in the back compartment watched him, waiting for an answer or a reaction.

  The man turned to face the others with a bright, toothy grin as he kept the phone pressed against his ear. The conversation had obviously become more satisfactory to him. After several more seconds, the man tossed the cell phone into the center compartment and let out a shout.

  The other three men joined in the joyous chorus as they pumped their fists in the air.

  A part of her held out hope that the men had contacted Tubeec Hirad, who obviously wanted her alive for some reason. If she was handed over to Tubeec, that would give her another hour, another day to survive. Another chance to find an opening to escape or … to be found by Julian.

  As the minutes ticked by into what felt like hours, Mena closed her eyes and imagined Julian. She fantasized about being back in his arms, laying on the bench of his yacht, staring up into another perfect cloudless Caribbean sky on the island of St. Basil. Her only wish was to be back there with him for good. Leaving behind her fellowship and Africa to return to the place that had become her home. To the man she wanted to spend her life with.

  Sweat slid along her face and she swiped at her eyes, then reached for her bracelet.

  It was … gone.

  No.

  Where was her bracelet?

  How could she have lost it?

  Mena fought the despair threatening to drown her. Throughout all the mayhem after being kidnapped from the Irungu Center, the bracelet had been her one source of strength, helping her through each harrowing moment of her horrifying ordeal. Now it was gone.

  Mena couldn’t shake the feeling that the loss of the one connection she still had with Julian meant that he wouldn’t be coming to her rescue this time. She was truly on her own, subject to the whims of dangerous terrorists.

  Chapter Forty-Eight

  Pulling the bandana tighter across his nose and mouth, Tubeec lifted a hand to shield his eyes from the plumes of red dust rising from the ground as the Gulfstream landed deftly on the desolate private airstrip north of El Wak, near the Kenya-Somalia border. The plane taxied slowly, passing the dozen greenhouses in various states of construction. Turning, he headed back inside the oversized hanger and motioned for his men to bring the captive from the small six by six-foot security office tucked away in the back corner.

  Tubeec watched as his men brought the man to him. His hands were tied tightly behind his back and a black cloth covered his face. The man was a quick learner, no longer resisting and fighting back after suffering the consequences of his initial attempts. In due time, the man would thank Tubeec for abducting him from Ethiopia and bringing him to Kenya.

  The long arduous assignment was finally coming to an end. Tubeec hadn’t held up his end of the deal, but partial compliance was better than nothing and he had more important things on his mind now. The primaries were months away, but Kipsang Rono was surging in popularity in the tribes known to support him as well as in urban areas of the country. The contents of the flash drive would serve Tubeec well if Rono continued on this trajectory and stole the presidency from Noah Thairu. Tubeec could see a legitimate military position in his future, one that would equip him with the power to crush the men who’d led the attack on his family a decade ago.

  The sleek tan and chrome plane rolled to a stop, as the whirring of the jets slowed to a low purr. Tubeec took a step toward the airplane door and watched as the stairs descended. In the darkness of the cabin, a single figure loomed in the doorway.

  An old friend from times long ago.

  Tubeec regarded him. He hadn’t aged well. His plain face was marred by crevices. But the green eyes were the same as Tubeec remembered, sharp, piercing, and calculating.

  The man ducked his head outside the plane, raising a hand at Tubeec, before descending the steps. He held a large steel suitcase in one gloved hand. As they approached each other, a hint of conspiratorial satisfaction rested on the man’s face.

  “Tubeec, it is good to see you again.”

  “Same to you, my friend, same to you. How are things going in the witness protection program? Have they given you a new name? I was partial to the old,” Tubeec said.

  “Still Adam Russell,” he said, slapping a hand on Tubeec’s shoulder, squeezing it. “For now.”

  “Let’s get the business out of the way,” Tubeec said.

  Balancing the suitcase in the crook of his arm, Adam pressed a button on the side causing the lid to prop open. Tubeec grabbed a stack at random and thumbing through the one hundred dollar bills. From his quick estimation, the case contained more than the agreed-upon sum. Tubeec was not fond of surprises, not even those that seemed to benefit him. The extra money would come with expectations. Expectations Tubeec might not be inclined to fulfill.

  Reaching into his pocket, Tubeec pulled out a small vile and pressed down sharply, spraying a fine mist over a few more stacks of bills. When the color didn’t turn black—which would have indicated the money was counterfeit—he nodded in approval. Adam closed the lid and handed it to Tubeec.

  “Why so generous, my friend?” Tubeec asked, rubbing a scarred finger against his temple.

  Adam gave a short laugh. “Later. Now, it’s your turn.”

  “Of course,” Tubeec said, beckoning for Cangrejos to come forward with the small plastic first aid kit. Tubeec grabbed the box, then opened it for Adam to look inside.

  “Excellent,” Adam responded. “And was there any difficulty extracting the doctor from his captors?”

  “None at all. Whoever took him will think long and hard before doing it again,” Tubeec responded, then motioned for Cangrejos to bring the hooded man forward, stopping close enough for Adam to observe the man but not near enough for an exchange to occur.

  Walking to Cangrejos, Tubeec slipped the cloth off the captive’s head. The man’s eyes flew open, squinting in the bright morning light shining into the hangar. His dark skin and bald head were drenched in sweat. Rags of clothes hung from his skinny frame. As the man’s eyes focused, Tubeec watched pure relief flood through him, loosening his muscles as he recognized Adam Russell standing next to the Gulfstream.

  Adam took a step toward the man. Tubeec held up a hand. Assad and Suleymaan emerged from the shadows, pointing M4 Carbines at Adam.

  “Not so fast,” Tubeec said. He wasn’t ready to complete the exchange until he’d found out what the extra funds were for. What exactly did Adam want him to do?

  Adam tipped his head at Tubeec, then addressed the man, “You’re looking well, Quentin. I hope you don’t mind the lengths we had to go through to smuggle you out of Ethiopia.”

  “I won’t lie, I never guessed you were behind all of this. How is Priscilla?” Quentin asked.

  “She’ll be much better once I get you back to St. Basil,” Adam explained. “She was anxious to enact your plan, but then you disappeared. For months, we didn’t know what happened until we got the ransom call. But you know Priscilla doesn’t take kindly to blackmail. So, I had to be creative to facilitate your release. She’ll be happy to have you back to put the plan in motion.”

&
nbsp; “But … it won’t work without—“

  “Mena Nix,” Tubeec said, unsure of the cryptic plans being discussed by Adam and Quentin or who Priscilla was. Tubeec was mildly curious, but quickly losing interest. The sooner he made it clear that Mena was likely not going to be a part of the deal, the sooner he could get back to Somalia and plan his next moves.

  Tubeec wasn’t one to make many mistakes, but he had made a big one trusting his former associate, Hakeem Underwood. The years away from the militia had made Hakeem soft. His former protégé had struggled to secure Mena Nix and deliver her to the hangar at the agreed-upon time. Tubeec had given Hakeem confirmation that the money had been wired into his account, but the incompetent fool still hadn’t responded to calls from Cangrejos.

  “Where is she? I want to leave soon,” Adam said, his mouth drawn into a tight line.

  “There has been a delay in the transportation of the American woman. Is she worth waiting for? I could easily prorate the fee if you want to leave without her,” Tubeec suggested.

  “Adam, we can’t do that. Without Mena, we have no leverage. No way to enact the plan. We must have her!” Quentin said, his eyes growing wide. “I will not let Priscilla down again. We can’t leave without her.”

  “What’s the estimated time of arrival?” Adam asked, crossing his arms over his chest.

  Tubeec wished he knew the answer to that question himself. He looked over at Liban and Cangrejos. The two men were engaged in a heated discussion as they passed a phone back and forth between them. “Hold on a moment and let me confer with my team.”

  Stepping past Assad and Suleymaan, still maintaining a tight hold on Quentin Tufa, Tubeec approached Liban.

  “What’s going on? Have you located Hakeem and Mena?” Tubeec whispered.

  Liban nodded, then showed Tubeec a photo of Mena Nix surrounded by a group of men from al-Harakat.

  “When was this taken?” Tubeec asked.

  “Just now. They are willing to make an exchange if the bounty is still being paid,” Liban said.