I unzipped my flight suit and changed into a pair of slacks and a button-up shirt. I liked blue shirts on most days, but I felt like wearing black today. Even in the heat, the shirt breathed incredibly well. Egyptian cotton was my favorite fabric, and in this heat, it was the only way to go.
Kirk looked over at me and pulled on a white t-shirt and a pair of well-used blue jeans, like he always wore. The shoulder harness and a silver .45 completed the look. “What?” He looked at me sideways and spit on the ground.
“Nothing, just a little obvious, don’t you think?”
“Hey, I really don’t care what these local bimbos think. I never leave home without this baby, and God knows I have enough trouble with it, let alone without it.”
I turned and finished up by tucking a small weapon in my arm holster. It was an air-powered gun without any metal parts, so it went through metal detectors without setting them off. The rounds were made of tiny darts filled with a toxin that would knock out a full-grown man in half a second flat. Perfect for nonlethal force and for tight quarters. I could shoot it without even pulling it out. The strap around my wrist was hooked to my middle finger. With a flick of my wrist, it would fire, and no one would even know where it came from.
“So,” Kirk was leaned over tying his boots up as he looked toward the door, “what’s the story with Isis? She married?”
“Uh, no. I think she’s single, but she is a little out of your league, if you know what I mean. No offense.” I couldn’t believe he was thinking about Isis at a time like this.
“Yeah, well, she’s hot…and everything else a guy could want.” He stood up and ran a hand over his smooth shaved head. “Well, all but the killing assassin thing.”
I was getting a little impatient with the killing remarks coming from Kirk. He’d already given me a good idea of what he thought of the group. “You know, if you lived in my shoes for a week, then you wouldn’t be saying that.” I knew I was being overly sensitive, but I needed to know that he was on board. “Besides, I know there are a few criminals you’ve put away that you wouldn’t mind seeing dead.”
Kirk looked around for a defense and shoved his hands in his pockets. “Okay, sorry. I didn’t mean to get you all rattled. I just need some time to get used to this whole ‘taking the law into my own hands’ thing. Not that I’ve never done that before, but just not to this extreme.”
“Well, next time you have a gun shoved in the face of someone you love, then come talk to me about our justice system.” I really didn’t want to have this conversation right now. “Anyway, we need to be sure that Karjanski doesn’t escape. We might not have a chance like this again. He tends to leave a trail of dead bodies, and I have a feeling he isn’t here in Africa to hunt elephants.”
Isis came into the small changing room with something on her mind. “I’ve been thinking about this guy Karjanski murdered in the café. The killings are not random, and I think it has to do with the oil refineries he owned.”
“What refineries?” Kirk had a funny look on his face. I had a feeling he knew more than he was letting on.
“Mohammed Dior was the president of OPEC. Something else is going on here. Dior and his bodyguard were killed in the middle of a crowded restaurant. That’s a pretty bold move unless you have a really good reason.”
I ran through the options in my mind. He was after the oil in Africa, like the rest of the world, and did not mind killing for it. The list of senators and congressmen on the board of OPEC was kept a secret, and on paper, we didn’t even hold a seat in OPEC, but America ran it from behind the curtain, like we tried to run everything else.
“He is going to take over the world’s oil supply!” I blurted it out without realizing I had even been thinking it. Nevertheless, once it was out, it made sense. “His killings and murders are just to throw us off. He wants us to think he’s some two-bit serial killer when the whole time he is setting up the game board. In one move, he’ll control the world’s oil reserves and hold everyone hostage.” It was falling into place in my mind, as if a light bulb lit up, and I could see what he was thinking.
Isis looked at Kirk who was rolling the thought over in his mind. She said in a low voice, “The files I went through on his PC had to do with a few congressmen in the Senate. He also had a map of Africa and the Middle East. Forget the murders, we need to follow the money right to his next hostile takeover.”
We sat down, and in half an hour, we had a good idea where he was going next. The congressman on his PC was Nicholas Carver from Mississippi. The two others worked at Mr. Carver’s law firm. Isis used her laptop to hack into a satellite to locate the oil refineries here in Africa.
“Okay. There are six refineries in Africa. One isn’t too far from here, and the others are within a day’s drive. OPEC board members own them all, or their partners do, and I would bet anything Karjanski is going to try to take them over.” Isis turned the laptop toward us and pointed out where they were on the map.
I ran the scenarios and had to come up with a decision. “Okay, the bad news is we can’t follow Karjanski and check out the refineries at the same time. I think we can get a tracking device on him at the airport and let him go. With that, we can always pick him up later. I doubt he is going anywhere we can’t follow. Worst case, we draw him out by hitting one of his refineries.”
Isis pulled up a map of the area and the layout of the airport. “We go in through the baggage claim and get a tracker in his luggage.” I pointed out where we would set up.
“No good,” Kirk said and shook his head. “I did that and just about got killed for it. He goes through everything. And he sometimes dumps it, and just buys new clothes.” Kirk had a point. He would be looking for something obvious.
“Then we can use the floater.” Isis said. “He’ll need to be within five feet to set it, but I think we can pull it off.” She paused. “Why is he flying on a commercial airline when he has a private jet sitting on the tarmac?”
“He is taking public transportation for a reason,” Kirk said. “He is looking for his next victim. His profile shows him picking up women on planes or in clubs and killing them after he tires of them. He might be looking for someone you can’t find by taking a private jet.”
I gave Kirk credit. He paid attention and could read people better than most.
“Okay, then,” I said, “either way we need to be careful. Isis, you will have to be the one to get close to him. He doesn’t know what you look like. Kirk and I are compromised.”
I was on high alert. I didn’t want anything to happen to Isis, but at this point in the game, we had to take risks to get this guy.
Kirk asked about the tracking device, and I pulled out a bottle of perfume from a backpack. “This perfume has microscopic transmitters in it. When it is sprayed on someone, it sticks to their clothes, skin, or whatever else it comes in contact with. Once it’s active, it will send out a signal for about five days. It should give us enough time to get our recon done here and catch up with him later.” I looked at my watch and noticed that we didn’t have much time. “We need to get going if we’re going to catch him before his flight.” We headed to the car that was waiting for us outside. It was one the agency ordered for us, and, true to form, it blended in.
The car had sat in the hot sun, so it was less than comfortable. It was an old station wagon without air conditioning. I took the wheel and rolled down the windows to get a breeze going. Kirk sat in the back with Isis and they went over a plan to figure out how to get Isis close to Taras. We already knew Taras had a soft spot for beautiful women. With that and her way of making men fall all over themselves just by flashing a smile, I didn’t think she would have any problems.
The airport was an hour away. The African sun shone down on our car as we drove through the vast countryside. It was rather beautiful, and it calmed me down just to look at the pleasant landscape. The heat was dry, and when your body accepted it for what it was, it didn’t seem so terrible.
I lo
oked across the brush and saw a lone lion sitting under the shade of an acacia tree. The city would soon cover the raw nature with its own expanse of life of tall buildings and people wandering in and out of their air-conditioned offices. It was the nation of surprises and the world watched as it discovered underground rivers of oil that reached far beyond those of the Middle East. Soon Africa would be controlling the world’s oil supply. Soon all eyes would be on Africa.
* * *
TARAS KARJANSKI LOOKED THROUGH the local newspaper and smiled as they reported on the murder of a local executive. What is this world coming to? Murders, rapes. The violence is everywhere!
He was alone now. Abe had taken the jet over an hour ago after a pat on the back from his old friend and an envelope with ten thousand dollars in it. He liked Abe and thought maybe one day he would make him a partner.
Not on your life!
The airport was somewhat crowded but Taras was looking for something other than a sweet pastry or a noodle bowl. He had the urge, the unmistakable desire to kill. It had been over twenty-four hours and the hunger seemed to be getting stronger. His thoughts would run to relive every murder and play each gory event over and over in his mind. Stop. You need to focus on the plan. This is not who you are, you are not a killer!
His eye followed a tall, slender woman as she smoothly walked through the crowd with a black travel bag in tow. Her tan skin and black hair had him hooked before he even realized she was heading his way. What luck, this should be easy! She looked Egyptian, but whatever her background, Taras knew he had to have her.
The woman ordered a cinnamon roll and sat down at a table not three feet from him. He could smell the shampoo in her hair and he looked her over without any reserve. She smiled and took a bite of her sticky bun.
“Hello.” She made the first move. This was surprising!
“Hello, I am Taras, you must be…wait, let me guess. You’re a princess from a far country, or a queen, maybe?”
Isis smiled and answered. “My name is Shelly. You must be Russian from your accent?” Shelly smiled, which seemed to brighten up the room.
“Very good.” He could see her dark eyes scanning his. “Where are you headed?”
“New York. You?”
“As am I.”
This was going better than he had planned. He wanted desperately to grab her and pull her close, kiss her hard, and then kill her right there in the middle of the airport. He shook off the feeling. The urge to run and get out of there before he made a scene almost overcame him.
She reached into her bag and pulled out a bottle of perfume. The scent made his senses rise in excitement. He breathed in deeply and filled his lungs with the sweet smell. It made him a little dizzy, or was it her?
“Sorry, I hate flying. The stale air in there is terrible, I need to drown it out with something.” She batted her eyes at him ever so quickly, and his heart fluttered with each flip of her long, beautiful lashes.
Taras was churning inside as his instincts took over. “It is a wonderful scent, and it fits you perfectly.”
“Thank you. Do you mind watching my bag a sec while I go freshen up?”
“I would be delighted.”
He watched her every move as she walked to the bathroom across the food court. She was cool and confident and had a dangerous way about her that Taras found intoxicating. He took her travel bag and looked around before he opened it and pulled out a silk blouse. He felt the fabric and breathed in the smell of it and quickly shoved it back into her bag. Oh, I love you so much, Shelly!
A few moments later she returned with a smile and thanked him. “Well, maybe I’ll see you on the plane. I need to get a magazine and some motion sickness tablets.”
“I will save you a spot. I have a first class ticket. If you like, I could save a seat for you.”
She smiled, showing all her perfect white teeth and said, “I can’t wait.”
With that, she disappeared around the corner leaving him reeling with excitement. This was just what he needed. She was a beautiful woman and looked successful. He wanted to get to know her, and the flight home would give him plenty of time to do just that. He knew she’d love him by the time they reached New York.
Taras couldn’t feel the tiny microchips as they filled his lungs and stuck to his clothing and skin. He was deep in thought about his new friend and the possibilities of the day ahead of him. He would be enraged by the time his flight landed in New York and the beautiful woman he longed for never showed up. He would walk the plane three times looking for her before giving up and cursing under his breath. The woman, like the saner of his two fighting personalities, had disappeared. The Red Dog was slowly rubbing out Taras Karjanski.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
EMILY DOBSON FINISHED HER hot dog, absently looking at Solomon as she chewed. Her nerves were running on high, but to look at her, she appeared to be calm and in control. She finished chewing and took a sip of Pepsi.
“Hello, Solomon.”
He looked at her and a bewildered look came into his eyes. Her age and looks would make her the last suspect in any investigation, let alone the mastermind behind multiple bombings and terrorists threats.
“I assume you are Chaos. Is that what I should call you, or do you have a real name?” He looked composed, and to anyone looking at them, they appeared to be two friends talking over lunch.
“You may call me Em. I won’t waste your time or mine. You called this meeting. Now get to the point or I’ll be on my way.” Em’s eyes flashed and her calm demeanor changed at once.
“I guess it would be pointless to ask why you are doing this, but is there anything that will stop you? What do you want?” Solomon said with a hint of disdain in his voice.
“You should already know the ‘why,’ and the ‘what’ is…well, I want one thing: I want Mark Appleton.”
Her answer shocked Solomon, which is just the reaction she wanted. “This is my offer. Think carefully before you answer. I want Mark handed over to me, or I will take down the World Justice Agency, one bombing at a time. I know who your agents are and what you are trying to do. Your answer will determine what I do next and how many people will die.”
Her words were casual as if she were talking about her favorite ice cream, but they cut deep. Solomon seemed confused and looked her in the eyes as if searching for a human deep inside, not knowing that she gave up humanity a long time ago.
She loved how those words felt on her tongue—the power and control they held. Being in control was the only thing that made her feel like more than just a useless woman.
“What will happen if I refuse?”
Emily laughed as if amused, then responded. “I will bomb one building every day in the name of the WJA. The papers will blame you, and I will tell them everything about your agency, down to your hideaway in the Merc building. The FBI will be on you so fast it will make your head spin, and with that, the WJA will go down in flames!” Then she smiled.
The answer was not what Solomon had in mind. His eyes fell, and he sighed deeply as Em took another sip of her soda. Her mind was racing as she pushed a button on a remote device in her pocket. An F16 would be there in fewer than three minutes. She knew he would never give up Mark and this meeting was a trap, right down to the sniper, half a mile away.
Solomon looked up and shook his head. “I am sorry, but I cannot do that. I believe you should come with me, or my men will shoot you before you can even blink.” He grabbed her arm to prevent her from running. But she didn’t struggle against his grasp.
She waited for the sound of the rocket as it bore down on the little town. Her body was relaxed, and as Solomon gripped her, she could see a flash of worry cross his face. She was not scared, and that was not part of his plan.
“I am afraid I will need for you to come with me, instead. I have a little surprise for you.” Before he could respond she grabbed him around the midsection and rolled off the bench just as a bullet crashed into the cobblestone above her h
ead. Solomon toppled over and landed on top of her as she pushed the button a second time, causing an explosion right underneath them. The ground cracked and gave way. They fell about ten feet under the street and landed on a small pontoon boat that waited on the underground waterway that led to the lake beyond.
“Sorry, old man, you messed with the wrong chick.” She plunged a needle into his neck and injected a tranquilizer into his bloodstream. His eyes rolled back in his head and he fell limp. She pushed him off of her as she hit the remote start. The small engine roared to life.
Seconds later, a ZWR 45 rocket slammed into the center of the small town, ripping through the cobblestone streets and exploding in a flash of light and an ear-piercing screech. From Big B’s vantage point, he could see the mushroom cloud rise into the sky, and he frantically scanned the hillside for his team. A rush of wind shot up the mountainside like a typhoon and knocked him down as trees, pulled up by the roots, flew by his head.
The gift shop and food court shattered like a wine glass in fire, and the town burst apart as the hot ball of flame tore through the streets. The helpless people, who stood licking ice cream and throwing pennies into the fountain, were incinerated before they even knew what had hit them. Boaters on the lake, enjoying the morning sun, watched in horror as the place where the town of Day once stood burned and disappeared before their very eyes.
Emily could feel the heat and rush of wind as it licked at her heels. The boat raced through the underground waterway and they were soon out on the main lake where, within minutes, a helicopter would pick them up. Her captive was just what she needed to draw the famous Mark Appleton to her side. She had lost him once, but this time, he was going to be hers.
Hers to kill.
* * *
FIRE AND THICK, BLACK smoke filled Jamison’s eyes as he climbed down toward the town, or what was left of it. He checked in with Big B, who told him he couldn’t get a response from Captain Jordan. She just blew up a town! And for what? The area where Captain Jordan was set up was south of the aftermath. Jamison wiped his face and pulled his shirt up over his nose so he could breathe. The heavy smoke made it hard to see, and the woods around him were filled with hot spots and flames. He called out for the captain, but only heard screams as people ran around looking for their loved ones.
DREAM ON (Mark Appleton #2) Page 12
