She let his head drop back to the gravel. Adriana cursed herself for not realizing what the man might do. There was no way to know he’d kill himself. Was there?
After a quick check of Tosu’s neck and finding no pulse, she made her way back up the driveway. June might still need her help. She picked up the pace, moving at a jog, which was all she could muster at that point.
She held her weapon at the ready and pushed through the door to the main building. June was standing just inside. She was hovering over two men. One was lying facedown on the floor with a trail of blood coming from his chest. The other was on his knees with hands in the air.
“You get Tosu?” June asked without looking over her shoulder. It was like she knew Adriana won the fight without seeing it.
“Yeah, but he’s dead,” Adriana answered. “Took cyanide, I think.”
June cocked her head to the side and stared at her prisoner. “You’re not gonna do that, are you?”
The frightened man shook his head vehemently.
“Good,” Adriana said, “because I have some questions for you.”
17
London
Breaking news out of Albania,” a news anchor said. “Allied forces struck a major blow to a terrorist group located just outside the Albanian capital of Tirana yesterday.”
The television displayed the destroyed mine and the building outside it.
“No word yet on how many casualties were involved in the strike, but sources say at least twenty terrorists were taken out.”
Adriana looked up from her tea with a raised eyebrow. Twenty? She rolled her eyes. She wished it had only been twenty.
The screen cut away to the White House press secretary. “The attack was carried out by two of our bombers based in Germany,” the man said.
He continued rambling on about the types of weapons used, the planes involved, and a bunch of other lies the American government spun.
Adriana didn’t judge. She knew why President Dawkins had to mislead the public. If people knew what was really going on, there could be major upheaval. Best to keep the common folk in the dark about certain things.
Of course, Dawkins hadn’t even known about the mission until it was already done.
June had apprised him of the situation and given him the story to share with the media based on what Shadow Cell’s director suggested.
Adriana took a sip of tea as the news outlet switched to sports. The guy on the screen was talking about the English men’s national football team and their upcoming slate of games to get ready for the World Cup.
Her thoughts drifted to the next mission. She didn’t even know what was coming next. Tosu was dead, an unfortunate casualty considering he knew more about Red Ring’s operation than most of the others on their hit list. His death, however, was a warning to the rest of the terrorist organization that someone knew who they were, and that they were coming to take out the trash.
She reflected on the swift and brutal shootout in the mine. There was no guilt in her heart about the men she’d killed. They were bad people, ready to kill the innocent at a moment’s notice, and themselves if necessary. Adriana had helped eliminate someone who could have dealt massive damage to the free world.
They’d left him on the gravel of the parking lot. He would serve as a warning to those who would consider that life, the life of bringing war to the innocent.
Adriana knew that whoever was in charge of Red Ring wouldn’t be foolish enough to travel to the mine to inspect what happened. There would be authorities crawling all over the place for months, investigating the blast area along with anything else they could find.
The investigators, of course, didn’t know what really happened. The Albanian officials had been slapped with an empty threat about harboring terrorists within their borders. Their leaders, confused and probably unaware, would put new policies in place that in the end would do little to stem the flow of extremists into their land.
For most nations, border protection was a constant problem. With countries that were far more passive about it, they may as well have not had any borders at all. In the case of Albania, a massive terrorist operation was going on right under the noses of their government, and yet they had done nothing to stop it.
The American president had issued a similar warning to Pakistan when Osama bin Laden was found and summarily eliminated there. The undertone of the warning was always the same: harbor terrorists, and you will have to deal with us.
Now it wasn’t the United States coming into someone else’s backyard. It was an agency shrouded in secrecy, operating from the shadows. The Red Ring would see what happened in Tirana. A twinge of doubt, maybe even fear, would creep into the minds of the men in charge.
Governments had to play by rules. There were certain things they could and could not do. Shadow Cell operated outside those boundaries, pushing the envelope.
Adriana considered that thought as she took another sip of tea. She and June had slaughtered every terrorist in the facility outside of Tirana. They’d cut them down like they were lower than animals.
The truth was they were exactly that. Those men she and June killed were preparing to murder thousands of innocent people. Maybe more. If it came down to a mother and her child or a guy with an AK-47 going on a rampage, it would be the gunman every single time.
Adriana had heard stories about people who dwelled on the faces of the people they’d killed in that line of work. Some cops had trouble getting over having to shoot a suspect in the line of duty despite the fact they had no other choice.
Adriana didn’t feel like that at all, and it made her wonder if there was something wrong with her.
That night, after getting back from Albania, she slept as if nothing had happened. The only thought that woke her now and then was the curiosity tugging at her as to the whereabouts of the men in charge of the Red Ring.
She’d spoken to Sean that night on the phone. It had been a week since they’d had a chance to chat. He was off chasing down a lost relic or something. She knew Tommy was probably close by. When he’d asked what she was up to, Adriana wasn’t sure how to respond. She’d never lied to him, and knew she never would when it came to matters of a personal nature. In this case, however, she didn’t have a choice. She knew he wouldn’t approve of her activities. He’d warn her, tell her that there were other people who could do that job.
Heck, there were other people doing that job.
Ironically, he was the one person in the world that should understand why she was doing it, why she was hunting down terrorists.
She could also see his side, though, and knew if he’d gone back to working for the secretive Axis agency, her feelings would be similar.
Adriana got through it by telling herself it was only temporary, that she wouldn’t do this forever. Just long enough to eliminate the Red Ring and restore some semblance of safety to the free world.
Then another thought crept into her mind. What if that never happened?
She shook it off and went back to the story she’d given Sean. It was the second time she’d had to tell him a tall tale about her travels and what she was up to. He bought it, of course, because why wouldn’t he? Sean had no reason not to trust her.
The door to the tea shop swung open and let in a burst of cold air from outside. June tapped her feet on the doormat to get rid of the snow on her boots before stepping inside.
She eased into a seat across from Adriana and set a stack of files on the table.
“What’s that?” Adriana asked, taking another swig from her cup. She set the container down on a saucer. The porcelain clinked when it touched. The tea room was old-fashioned, rumored to date back to the 1700s. Adriana figured the interior decor certainly reflected that period. “Dossiers for terrorists?”
“Something like that,” June said with a smile. “Although not necessarily the ones we’re looking for.”
“The prisoners give you what you wanted?”
“Sort of
,” June said with a shrug. “They gave us names, places, pickup times, even a few targets, but I get the feeling those guys didn’t know that much. It could take weeks to piece together the information they shared.”
“Weeks?”
“Yeah. By then, who knows? The men in charge of their little operation could disappear. They’ll go into hiding and only resurface when they think the heat has been turned down.”
Adriana took a deep breath and exhaled. “So…what now?”
“Now? I’m going to visit my boyfriend; that’s what now. I’m sure Sean would love to see you, too.”
“Shouldn’t we be working on finding the guys responsible for all this mess?”
“Our top analysts are on it. They can work on that stuff faster than we can. And like I said, it might take them weeks, maybe longer to find even one guy on the list those prisoners gave us. They’ll be underground for a while.”
Adriana wondered if she could expedite things with some of her connections in the grayer parts of society. She had plenty of friends in low places, though when she thought about it she realized that most of them weren’t connected to terrorists, not that she knew of.
“Sean and Tommy are off searching for some ancient relic right now,” Adriana said. “I’m not even sure how to get in contact with them.”
“Another ancient relic?” June let out a laugh. “I wonder what they’ve gotten themselves into this time.”
Adriana rolled her shoulders. “Not sure. Although I got the distinct impression Sean didn’t give me the details because he was embarrassed.”
June chuckled. “Embarrassed? Of what?”
“I don’t know,” Adriana said with a shake of the head. “Like he didn’t want me to know what he was trying to find.”
“J. Edgar Hoover’s women’s clothing?”
Adriana let out a laugh. She was Spanish but had been Americanized enough to have heard the stories of the FBI’s infamous first director.
“I doubt that’s what they were looking for. He said it was very old and very important.”
June nodded. “It always is with those two.” She picked up a menu and browsed through it. Seeing nothing that whetted her appetite, she set it back down. “I suppose if we really want to track them down we can. Those two tend to leave a trail of destruction in their wake.”
“Indeed. I’ll give Sean a call later today and see where they are. Maybe if they’re in this part of the world we can meet up.”
“Good idea. For now, just be ready. When the guys in charge of the Red Ring resurface, we need to be able to move at a moment’s notice.”
“Understood.”
18
Uzbekistan
Thank you for the information,” the Teacher said.
The man standing in front of him wore a cut that stretched from his temple down to the corner of his mouth. He looked like he’d been through a war. A bruise on his forehead, the cut on his face, and grime from smoke, dirt, and grease streaked his skin.
“Yes, Master.” The reply was simple and respectful.
“It is a miracle that you managed to survive the explosion as well as find a way to get away from the mine undetected.”
The old man gazed at his pupil with narrow, analytical eyes. He was probing the subordinate, though he was fairly certain the younger man didn’t realize it.
“Allah be praised,” the man said.
His pale face was more so than normal.
“Have you had anything to eat or drink since the ordeal?”
The younger man shook his head. “I knew I needed to tell you as soon as I could. And I wanted to fast for my sins.”
The Teacher gave a long, dramatic nod. “You were right to do so.”
He stood up and hobbled over to the younger man, putting his arm around the visitor’s shoulders. He steered him around, facing a balcony door on the far side of the sparsely decorated room. There were no pictures, no sofas, no fancy tables. Only a few wooden chairs, a desk that looked like it was made from reclaimed wood, and candles on top of it.
If an outsider were to see the place, they’d have sworn a minimalist lived there.
“I wonder,” the Teacher said as he guided his pupil toward the door, “how it was you were able to escape.”
The younger man turned his head to look at his master. He had a confused expression on his face, wondering why the Teacher would ask that of him.
The master clarified. “You’ve given me good information on the two women, although we knew about them before. They were responsible, we think, for the destruction of our rockets that were going to strike London. But I find it odd that all of our men died except for you. So, please, enlighten me as to how you managed to get away unharmed.”
The younger man swallowed hard. He could tell the Teacher was pressing him for a specific answer. “I didn’t run like a coward if that’s what you’re saying, sir. I swear it. I would die for our cause.” The young man’s Eastern European accent had a nervous quiver to it.
“Interesting,” the Teacher said, “because here you are, standing in my home while your brothers are dead in a mountain somewhere in Albania.”
The older man didn’t look at his guest, instead staring out the door at the snow-covered peaks of the Chatkal Mountains. He flung open the door, letting in a burst of cold air that shook the young man to his bones.
The Teacher showed no signs of the cold affecting him, though the visitor assumed it chilled him just as much, if not more.
“Shouldn’t we stay inside, Master? It’s very cold out here.”
The old man nodded but ushered his guest out onto the balcony with him. “Yes, I just want you to see something.”
He stopped at the white stone railing and placed his left hand on top of it. He gazed out at the majestic mountain range, rising up above all else in the region. The two could make out the tiny figures of skiers and snowboarders sliding down the slopes of Chimgan Mountain in the distance.
“It’s funny, don’t you think?” the Teacher asked after a moment of reflection.
“What’s that?” There was a quiver in the young man’s voice.
“People spend so much time trying to enjoy this life, trying to cling to it with all their might, with every ounce of their being. They pray for more years or better health, when the truth is that the life that awaits us is far greater. Eternity will be spent in paradise for those of us who have been true to the word of mighty Allah.”
The younger man nodded.
“Of course, for those who have betrayed the cause and put themselves and their own preservation before it, their eternal fate will be much different.”
The young man frowned at the comment, immediately understanding that the Teacher was referring to his escape from Tirana.
“Master, I swear—”
The old man gripped the railing with one hand and the back of his guest’s shirt with the other. His fingers were stronger than they appeared, as if imbued with some supernatural force. He used the rail for leverage and found it surprisingly easy to throw the younger man over. His terrified screams faded as he fell.
The Teacher watched the body tumbled through the air, four stories, until it struck the concrete driveway below with a sudden and terrible smack.
The old man turned away and walked back into his home as if the murder hadn’t even happened. He knew someone else would clean up the mess. In fact, he’d already told his second in command what would happen. At that very moment, there were probably six or seven men rushing to dispose of the body and wash down the concrete.
The treasonous young man would be fed to the dogs, a fate he deserved for abandoning the others.
Sure, there was a flicker of doubt in the Teacher’s mind. The man he’d just killed had given him as much information as he could. And the boy didn’t have to come all the way to Uzbekistan. He’d done it of his own accord.
Had he decided to lie low for a while, maybe drop off the radar, he might still be alive.
&
nbsp; It didn’t matter in the grand scheme of things.
The men of the Red Ring had to know that failure was unacceptable, and that retreating was not an option.
“Aziz!” he shouted. His voice echoed through the chamber encased in sandstone.
A moment later, a man with a nearly bald head and dark, thick eyebrows walked through a door at the other end. He wore a gray peacoat and black pants. A pistol hung from a holster on the inside of his jacket.
“Yes, sir?” The guy stopped just a few feet into the room.
“How are preparations coming at our second installation?”
“The men are working as fast as they can, day and night. Some of them aren’t even taking sleep. That facility will have everything ready on schedule.”
“Good,” the Teacher said. “I’m sure you’re aware of what happened in Albania to our brothers there.”
Aziz gave a somber nod but said nothing.
“That sets us back, but we can adapt. Our timeline will have to be pushed forward. Have that one and our third facility add more men. We have recruits waiting for orders, yes?”
“Yes,” Aziz said and gave another nod.
“Reinforce both installations, and make sure that the men get at least a few hours of sleep and are well cared for. While I appreciate their fervor, the last thing we need is shoddy preparations. Everything must work perfectly, down to the guns they fire on the nonbelievers.”
“Of course, sir. I will take care of it.”
“You may leave.”
Aziz nodded and left the room.
The Teacher eased back into his seat and looked out the balcony door windows at the mountains beyond.
His plans had been delayed. But they were far from being stopped.
Thank You
I just wanted to take a moment to say thank you for reading this story.
The exciting conclusion to the the Red Ring saga of the Shadow Cell series is coming in Book 3, so I hope you’ll enjoy the final piece to this exciting puzzle I’ve created.
Shadows Rising Page 12
