Forty Acres: A Thriller

by Dwayne Alexander Smith

  When describing the highway, Oscar had mentioned that travelers rarely used that route anymore. He even made a joke about it. If Oscar was right, it could take five minutes for a vehicle to drive by, or it could take hours. There was just no way to be sure. Martin hated to admit it, but the success of his plan—whether Anna lived or died—would be determined by luck.

  One sure way to better the odds was to have as much time to spare as possible. The faster he reached the road, the better his chances would be of encountering a passing vehicle, so Martin poured on the speed. He had never forded a river before, and he was equally inexperienced at off-roading. A rugged drive for Martin was a gravel parking lot or a speed bump, but that didn’t stop him from pushing the Land Rover as hard as he could. Wrapping around a tree or snapping the axel on a boulder would be disastrous, so Martin had to try to find a balance between maximum speed and control. He whipped the Rover around obstacle after obstacle. Wildlife scrambled clear as bushes and saplings toppled beneath the bumper. Rooster tails of dirt flew up in the Rover’s wake as its churning treads propelled the vehicle forward.

  * * *

  Less than twenty minutes later, Martin was standing on the faded yellow dividing line of a two-lane forest highway. As he peered up and down the tree-lined stretch of empty road, Martin was infected with a hollow feeling of hopelessness. The old highway wasn’t just desolate, as Oscar had described; the weed-cracked and leaf-strewn blacktop looked like it hadn’t been touched by speeding rubber in years.

  Martin listened hard for any sign of an approaching vehicle. The buzz and warble of wildlife and the low rumble of the idling Land Rover, which was stopped at the side of the road, were the only sounds. Martin felt an urge to shout at the top of his lungs, to cry out to the world for help, but he knew that it would do no good. He was completely alone, and from the looks of that forgotten highway, his state of isolation wasn’t about to change anytime soon.

  With Anna’s life hanging in the balance, he couldn’t just wait there. He had to do something.

  Approximately thirty minutes had passed since he’d escaped. That left another ninety minutes before Oscar reached the compound. Martin could drive damn far in ninety minutes, especially on a road free of traffic. Maybe he could reach a gas station or even the main highway with still enough time to make that lifesaving phone call.

  Maybe.

  The interstate wasn’t indicated on Dr. Kasim’s map, nor were there any gas stations. Martin had no idea how long it would take to reconnect with civilization. There was also one other problem. Martin’s head ticked back and forth, peering down the highway in one direction and then the other. If he did decide to take the gamble and keep driving, which direction should he choose?

  As Martin weighed this decision, he spotted something on the road that seized his attention.

  A wild rabbit.

  The furry gray creature was sitting on the yellow line about fifteen yards from where Martin stood. Its nose twitching and its ears erect, the rabbit peered back at Martin, perhaps wondering what that strange tall creature was doing on his highway. Without any provocation, the rabbit suddenly bolted to the side of the road, scampered halfway up the embankment, and disappeared down a burrow hole.

  The sight of the creature vanishing into the earth jarred something in Martin. For the last couple of hours he had been so focused on saving Anna that he had forgotten that there were other lives at stake as well. There were dozens of people imprisoned in Dr. Kasim’s gold mine, and the mine was wired to explode. When Oscar finally reached the compound and reported Martin’s escape, not only would Dr. Kasim carry out his threat against Anna, he would also order the execution of the slaves. Even if Martin could reach a phone in time to save his wife and alert authorities, help would never arrive in time to save those people trapped underground.

  But what could Martin do to save them?

  Even if he did something crazy like go back to the compound and try to rescue the slaves, he’d be doomed to failure, not to mention certain death. He was just one man, completely unarmed. Getting past the guards and freeing the slaves would be impossible.

  Or would it?

  They’d have to know that he was going for help. Moments after Oscar’s return, Forty Acres would be in turmoil. Plus he’d have the element of surprise on his side. The last thing that they would expect was for Martin to return to the compound. In fact, they probably wouldn’t expect any outsiders to show up for at least a couple of hours. Chances were pretty good that their focus would be entirely on escape rather than keeping anyone out.

  Still, that didn’t solve the problem of how Martin could save the slaves. Sneaking back into the compound suddenly seemed very possible, but getting down into the mine and getting the slaves out—it was just too big a mission for one man.

  Martin peered up and down the desolate highway again. The frustration and helplessness that he felt at that moment returned his hopes to his original plan. If only a car would come, he thought, just one stupid car or truck or motor home. Then his problems would be solved. He’d make the phone call, Anna would be saved, and there would still be enough time for the authorities to reach the compound and stop the destruction of the mine.

  It was at that instant that it came to him. The answer to how one man could save the slaves struck Martin like a thunderbolt. It was a long shot, but it could work. But what about Anna? If he turned around and raced back to rescue the slaves, he wouldn’t be able to warn Anna in time to save her.

  Martin had to make a decision—try to save Anna and his unborn child or try to save the slaves. Two lives versus dozens of lives.

  Morally, the answer seemed obvious. But still, Martin couldn’t bring himself to make a choice that might result in his wife’s death. So, with time running out, he thought it best to leave the decision up to someone else, someone he trusted more than himself.

  Martin Grey stood in the center of that deserted old highway in the middle of nowhere and asked himself one simple question. What would Anna want him to do?

  CHAPTER 84

  Dr. Kasim sat out on his bedroom balcony enjoying an early lunch of baked catfish and steamed vegetables picked fresh from his garden. To wash the meal down, he sipped a tall glass of iced tea garnished with mint leaves and a perfect slice of lemon.

  Two young uniformed slaves, one male and the other female, stood by the balcony door behind the doctor, ready to jump if needed.

  A quiet solitary lunch on the balcony was a daily routine that Dr. Kasim cherished greatly. From where he sat he had a perfect view of the beautiful front garden and the broad oak-lined main driveway that led to and from the gates of his private kingdom.

  To Dr. Kasim, Forty Acres was a place where all he surveyed, from the armed guards patrolling the high walls, to the slaves toiling in the dirt, was under his complete control. A place where he could liberate his followers from the psychological shackles of the white world order and instill in them the confidence and courage to be immune forever. Measured in miles, his kingdom might not have been very large, but measured by impact, Dr. Kasim believed that his work at Forty Acres was more important to the black race than anything that King, Malcolm, or Mandela had ever achieved. Sometimes it pained him to know that his name would never be listed alongside those great men, but he took solace in knowing that in the eyes of their ancestors, his deeds would certainly stand above the rest.

  Dr. Kasim rattled the ice cubes in his glass, signaling for a refill. The female slave promptly approached the table, refilled the glass from a crystal pitcher, then retreated to her post by the door. As Dr. Kasim took a slow sip of tea, he noticed a lone man approaching fast up the main drive. What seemed odd was that the man wasn’t dressed in all black, like a guard, and he was walking.

  Dr. Kasim stuck out his hand in the general direction of the slaves and said, “Glasses.”

  The male slave popped forward. He removed the doctor’s wire-rim glasses from his breast pocket, polished both lenses with a cloth,
then laid them carefully on the doctor’s palm. Dr. Kasim slipped them on and took another look over the balcony’s railing. Finally he could identify the individual who had just reached the front of the main house.

  It was Oscar. But why in the world would Oscar be walking?

  Minutes later, his second in command barged out onto the balcony and ordered the slaves to leave immediately. The overseer’s clothing was covered with fresh blood and he was in an alarmed state, which for Oscar was unprecedented. Before Oscar said even a single word, Dr. Kasim knew that something had gone terribly wrong.

  Oscar opened his mouth to speak, but Dr. Kasim raised his hand. “First sit and drink some water.”

  “But, sir,” Oscar said, “this is extremely urgent.”

  Unimpressed, the doctor waved to an empty chair. “All the more reason. Sit.”

  Knowing that it was futile to argue with the doctor, Oscar took a seat and poured himself a glass of water.

  Dr. Kasim waited patiently for Oscar to drain the entire glass. “Feel better?” Oscar took a calming breath and nodded. “Now,” Dr. Kasim continued, “tell me how Mr. Grey managed to escape.”

  Oscar looked at him, surprised at first, then withered a bit. “Doctor, it was not my fault.”

  Dr. Kasim cracked a small smile. “You and I have worked together for ten years. You think I don’t know that?”

  “It was Mr. Darrell,” Oscar said. “He lost it. Rushed the guards. Grey took off before I could stop him.”

  “And the vehicle?”

  Oscar nodded grimly. “He took it. And Grey saw the map. He knows how to reach the road. He could be talking to the FBI as we speak.” Oscar looked his mentor straight in the eye. “We have to get out. It’s over.”

  Dr. Kasim sighed. He stroked his white whiskers and gazed out over the compound.

  Oscar asked, “Do I have your permission to shut it down?”

  When Dr. Kasim turned back to Oscar, his eyes were glassy with tears. He nodded. “All the slaves into the mine. Prep the vehicles. You handle it. You know the drill.”

  Oscar stood up sharply. “How much time do I have? How soon do you want everyone ready to leave?”

  Dr. Kasim picked up his knife and fork, cut a piece of catfish, and stabbed it with his fork. “You have until I finish my lunch,” he said to Oscar as he casually ate the fish.

  Oscar nodded and hurried out.

  Dr. Kasim drained his iced tea, then rattled the glass for another refill. When no one jumped, he turned and saw that he was alone on the balcony.

  His slaves were gone.

  In a flash of rage Dr. Kasim hurled the glass to the balcony floor.

  It shattered into a million pieces at his feet.

  CHAPTER 85

  When the kill order came, the Handyman was seated in his parked Camry, staring across the street at the intended mark, Anna Grey.

  He picked up his chiming iPhone from the dashboard and checked the screen. The client’s text message was a model of economy.

  Proceed, ASAP.

  When the Handyman read the text, he felt a jolt of professional adrenaline. The client didn’t just want the Grey woman dead; they wanted her dead fast. An ASAP order meant that the Handyman didn’t have to camouflage his work to look like a freak accident or a robbery gone bad. ASAP meant that anything goes as long as it resulted in a quick corpse. Due to the sticky nature of the task, the exact timing was a bit flexible, but the understanding was that he was to exterminate the mark within one hour.

  The Handyman frowned as he peered back across the street at his target. He was parked opposite Isabella’s, a Mediterranean restaurant on the corner of Columbus Avenue and Seventy-Seventh Street in Manhattan. The Grey woman was having lunch with her husband’s partner, Glen Grossman, and Glen’s wife, Lisa. The trio was seated on the sidewalk, outside the restaurant, affording the Handyman a perfect view of the target at all times. Unfortunately, the fact that she was in plain sight also meant that, for the time being, Anna Grey could not be touched.

  Despite the ASAP order, a hit on a busy Manhattan street called for an unacceptable amount of risk, so the Handyman would wait. He’d wait until the Grey woman’s lunch was over. With any luck, after the meal, she’d part ways with the Grossmans and go home. Once she was isolated inside her house, the rest would be simple. Of course, there was the possibility that she had other plans. Maybe she’d go shopping or to a hair appointment, or even take a stroll through the park. Whatever she did, it didn’t really matter to the Handyman. He was a professional. He’d still find a way to get to her. He took pride in not only getting the job done but getting the job done right. Anna Grey was marked for death, ASAP. Bottom line, in less than one hour, Anna Grey would therefore be dead.

  * * *

  “We really wouldn’t mind having you stay with us,” Lisa Grossman said to Anna. Lisa slapped the back of her husband’s hand. “Glen, tell her.”

  Mid-sip, Glen jumped and spilled a few drops of coffee. He groaned at his wife. “Anna knows that she’s welcome at our place anytime.” He turned to Anna desperately. “Would you please just stay with us before this crazy woman beats me up?”

  Anna laughed. She loved Glen and Lisa. Despite being two of the smartest people she knew, they didn’t take life too seriously. It was impossible to be anything but in a good mood whenever you were in their presence; that’s why she’d invited them to lunch. Anna needed a distraction to get that Donald Jackson business out of her head. She had no intention of burdening the Grossmans with her worries, but by the time the waitress had taken their orders, Glen and Lisa had sensed that something was troubling her. It didn’t take much to get Anna talking, but she didn’t tell them everything. Anna revealed just enough so that they could understand her anxiety about Martin’s trip without thinking that she was going off the deep end. And of course, Anna told the couple nothing about the pregnancy. She was determined to deliver the news to Martin first. Anna just wished that it was Monday already and that Martin was back home, safe.

  “You two are very sweet,” Anna said, “but I’ll be fine. I’m just letting my imagination get the better of me.”

  Lisa looked doubtful. “Are you sure?” She waved her palms before Anna as if reading Anna’s aura. “I sense something from you. It’s weird.”

  Glen rolled his eyes. “What, are you a psychic now?”

  Lisa slapped Glen’s hand again. “You know that’s not what I mean.” She pointed a finger at Anna. “You’re hiding something. What is it?”

  Anna was tempted to tell Lisa about the pregnancy, but all she could do was bite her lip and shake her head. She was relieved when the waitress appeared with the check. Anna reached for it, but Glen grabbed it first. Anna opened her mouth to protest, but Glen held up a hand. “Before you say anything,” Glen said, “I have two words for you. Business meeting.”

  Anna chuckled.

  Glen pressed a finger to his lips. “Just don’t tell my partner. He’s really uptight about this sort of thing.”

  “True,” Anna said, “but he’s also really, really cute.”

  “I guess,” Glen said with a shrug, “if you’re into black guys.”

  The three of them laughed together. While Glen fished for his credit card, Lisa laid her hand atop Anna’s. “Here’s an idea. Since Glen’s going to the office, why don’t you come over and we’ll watch a movie. Later, if you feel like going home, fine, and if not, the guest room is all yours.”

  Anna shook her head in disbelief. “You really don’t give up, do you?”

  “She’s like a pit bull,” Glen said.

  Lisa shot her husband a look.

  “A movie sounds great,” Anna said, “but not tonight. I didn’t get much sleep last night. I’m going to just go home, take a long hot bath, and then go dead to the world.”

  “Okay, okay,” Lisa said, “but don’t say it like that. I hate that expression. It’s really creepy.”

  CHAPTER 86

  He was right. They were fleeing t
he compound.

  Hidden behind a large tree, about fifty yards from the towering walls, Martin watched the hasty evacuation of Forty Acres. Every few minutes, another Land Rover, packed with guards still in uniform, would speed out of the main gate, roar past Martin’s position, and disappear into the woods. Some of the fleeing 4x4s followed the dirt trail, while others veered off-road in several different directions.

  Martin experienced a tense moment when one truck barreled straight toward the spot where he had ditched his stolen Land Rover. Fortunately, the truckload of guards failed to spot the hidden vehicle, and they continued away into the wilderness without incident.

  After watching five fully loaded Land Rovers flee the compound, Martin still saw no sign of the doctor or the other men. When Martin first reached the main gate, the huge doors were still shut, so he was pretty certain that he hadn’t missed their departure. That meant that Dr. Kasim, Oscar, Solomon, Tobias, Kwame, and Carver had yet to make their escape. This was good news; it confirmed, first, that the slaves were still alive, and second, that his plan to save them could really work.

  Destroying the mine with the slaves still trapped inside was a housecleaning chore far too important to leave to even the most loyal subordinate. The risk was too great that a flunky might suddenly grow a conscience, or worse, become overeager and detonate the Primacord too soon. Martin figured that the last thing Dr. Kasim wanted was a massive explosion to draw authorities to the vicinity before he and the other high-profile members had ample time to escape. That meant that they would be the last ones out the door and that, before they left, they would shut off the lights. Only it wouldn’t be a light switch that would be thrown, it would be a switch to trigger an underground time bomb. There was no way to know for sure how much time the slaves would have once the charge was activated, but Martin figured that a safe guess was thirty minutes. Thirty minutes was long enough for the men to distance themselves from the scene of their crimes and short enough to exterminate the witnesses before every law enforcement agency in the country descended upon the place.