by DV Berkom
The man in black smiled. “And yet, instead of killing her, which would have been the prudent course of action, you told Victor to sell her at auction—that there were many who would pay to exact their revenge.” He raised the gun. “You preyed on Wang’s greed only to satisfy your need for vengeance.”
Kavi’s mouth ran dry as his mind raced for a way to bargain for his life. But then he stopped. Phan was going to be very upset when he didn’t bring home the vegetables she’d asked for.
“How did you know?” Kavi asked, the air escaping his lungs as though the man had stuck a needle through his chest.
“It appears you underestimated your enemy,” the man replied. He fired two rounds, one to the chest, one to the head.
The gunman picked up the two spent casings on the floor before he unscrewed the suppressor. Then he walked over to the body, leaned down, and pressed his fingers against Kavi’s carotid to search for a pulse.
He didn’t find one.
***
Leine put the last stroke of paint on the wall and stepped back, admiring her work. The calming shade of green was exactly what the apartment needed, what Leine needed. Especially after Africa.
Her phone rang, and she dropped the roller into the paint tray. She wiped her hands on her jeans before she answered.
“Hi, Mom,” April sang out cheerily.
Leine smiled. Ever since her daughter had helped bring down the traffickers in Riyadh, she’d acquired a new self-confidence, something Leine both appreciated and dreaded. Relieved that April’s first undercover assignment for SHEN had turned out so well—her actions helped save seventeen women and children from a brutal life—Leine was also leery of that same confidence and hoped that her daughter would temper her newfound ability with prudence.
“Hi, sweetie. What’s up?”
“I just sent you a link to a video. You have to see this.”
Leine walked into the kitchen for her tablet, opened her daughter’s text message and clicked on the link. The video began with a screen giving the date, location, and three names. Leine leaned forward in her chair at the first name: Victor Wang. The other two, Bobbi Jo Schneider and Sapphire, meant little to her.
The picture quality was good but jumpy, zooming in and out, and picked up the sound of the videographer’s footsteps as well as his breathing. The woman captured in the video looked like one of the guests who had been staying at Wang’s camp. Leine enlarged the picture for a better view.
The video showed the woman carrying a hunting rifle and creeping through the dark, giving the impression she was tracking prey. She stopped and the picture zoomed out, showing a dark silhouette in the distance. She raised her rifle and fired. The dark shape dropped, the bullet obviously finding its mark. The next scene panned in for a closeup, the woman staring down at her kill, clearly shocked. A second later the video zoomed out to capture not only the hunter, but also the prey—a pretty young Asian woman, obviously dead. Leine stopped the video.
“It’s all over the Internet,” April said. “Isn’t Victor Wang the guy you went after in Tanzania?”
“Yes. Do you know who uploaded the file?”
“Someone calling themselves Justice K19. Heard of them?”
“No, but I have an idea.” It had to be Kylie. She’d told Naasir to check Wang’s computer for a video file showing the murder of a woman who’d been trafficked the same time as she was. Leine hadn’t heard anything about the video after that and assumed someone had wiped Wang’s hard drive before it could be searched. But if Kylie had a copy, why hadn’t she given it to Naasir?
“It says in the article that the woman with the gun was brought in for questioning. She claims it was all faked. That it was a bad marketing ploy to get people to go to their company’s website,” Kylie said. “She and her husband own one of those wildlife ranches where you can pay to hunt exotic animals.”
“Has anyone reported the other woman in the video missing?”
“The article doesn’t say, but the way the video’s taking off, I wouldn’t be surprised if either she steps forward to prove she isn’t dead, or a family member does.”
Leine made a mental note to check in with Kylie, ask her some questions. After making plans to see April for dinner, Leine ended the call and read the article. She’d gotten through to the last paragraph when Santa walked in the door, carrying a large bouquet of flowers and a shipping envelope.
“You shouldn’t have,” Leine said, smiling. She kissed him and took the flowers into the kitchen to find a vase.
“Beautiful flowers for a beautiful lady.” Santa set the oversized envelope on the counter. “That’s for you, too. Looks like Derek sent you something.”
Leine finished arranging the flowers in the vase and wiped her hands before opening the package from Kenya. She turned it over and shook out the contents: a handwritten letter folded into thirds, and a shallow box. She opened the letter and read:
Dear Claire/Leine,
Please accept this gift in the nature intended. Our adventure in Tanzania and the resulting conversations we shared had a profound effect on me and I now find myself working part time with the Rafiki Conservation Center. It’s helped me to put my past behind me as did something you said while on the ship. “It’s not what you did, it’s what you do.” I’ve changed my ways and am on the path to a new and better life. You check?
I’ve decided to take your advice to heart and have decided to rectify the damage I’ve done to this mysterious continent I call home. Your work with SHEN has inspired me to take action. The nature of my specific skillset has made it a bit tough to decide on the right path, but I now believe I’ve found exactly what I am meant to do. The necklace is my gift to you as well as to Tanzania. I hope my efforts will help in some small way.
Take care of yourself, and if you ever need anything, please don’t hesitate to ask.
Yours Sincerely,
Derek van der Haar
Leine put the letter down and picked up the box. Inside was a beautifully beaded necklace, evoking the fine work of the Maasai. She lifted it out and only then realized its significance. The focus of the piece glinted in the sunlight.
Nestled in a cluster of gleaming sapphires was a diamond embedded in a gold tooth.
THE END
About the Author:
DV Berkom is the USA Today bestselling author of two action-packed thriller series featuring strong female leads (Leine Basso and Kate Jones). Her love of creating resilient, kick-ass women characters stems from a lifelong addiction to reading spy novels, mysteries, and thrillers, and longing to find the female equivalent within those pages.
Raised in the Midwest, she earned a BA in political science and promptly moved to Mexico to live on a sailboat. Several years and many adventures later, she wrote her first novel and was hooked. Bad Spirits, the first Kate Jones thriller, was published as an online serial in 2010 and was immediately popular with eBook fans. Dead of Winter, Death Rites, and Touring for Death soon followed before she began the far grittier Leine Basso series in early 2012 with Serial Date.
D.V. currently lives in the Pacific Northwest with her husband, Mark, and several imaginary characters who like to tell her what to do. Her most recent books include The Last Deception, A Killing Truth, Cargo, Vigilante Dead, A One Way Ticket to Dead, and Yucatán Dead.
Note from D.V.:
Thank you for reading CARGO. I hope you enjoyed it. If you did, please consider leaving a short, honest review on Amazon and tell your friends about the book. Your sincere feedback means a lot and I greatly appreciate it.
As I detail in the book, ivory and rhino horn poaching has increased to unsustainable levels in Africa. Sadly, the scene depicting the aftermath of elephants slaughtered by automatic weapons is based in fact. In Tanzania alone, 10,000-23,000 elephants are killed for their ivory each year—between 27 and 63 per day. Experts estimate that if populations continue to decline at the present rate elephants may well become extinct in our lifetime. If you’d
like to learn more about what’s being done in the fight against poaching and trafficking illegal ivory, begin here: www.worldwildlife.org.
If you would like to learn more about Leine Basso or my other thrillers, or just want to connect online, click on the links below.
Facebook
Twitter
Website
Blog
Pinterest
Google+
Instagram
Goodreads
Amazon Author Page:
US
UK
***Join my Readers’ List to be the first to find out about new releases and exclusive, subscriber-only special offers.
Acknowledgements
I’d like to thank the following people for their help and support in writing Cargo: first reader and confidence man, Mark Lindstrom; super-stupendous editor, Laurie Boris; intrepid adventurer and chief hot air balloon pilot Mike Carnevale for fact-checking my Tanzanian/Maasai references and providing the framework to write about life in East Africa; Kathryn McNeil for initial input regarding Bangkok; my writing group: Ali Mosa, Jenni Conner, Darlene Panzera, and Sharon Kleve; Mistress of Mayhem and Prodigious Plugger of Plot Holes, Ruth M. Ross-Saucier; and early readers Michelle and Brian Yelland, and Bev and Larry Van Berkom. Special thanks to TSODA134 (a.k.a. Special Forces Dude)—your detailed input and PowerPoints on weapons, recon, sniper protocol, comms, SE Asia, et al, add an element of realism to my novels that I wouldn’t be able to achieve without your help.
Writing is never a solitary endeavor.
Other books by D.V. Berkom:
Leine Basso Crime Thriller Series (books listed in order written):
Serial Date
When a former assassin's daughter is abducted, she's drawn into the twisted game of a serial killer who may be a grisly remnant from her past.
Bad Traffick
Dangerous obsessions take center stage when a former assassin and a homicide detective race against the clock to find a missing girl
The Body Market
Former assassin Leine Basso is called in when a celebration south of the border turns into a nightmare.
A Killing Truth (Prequel)
A deadly assassin. A perpetual target. The double cross she never saw coming…
They say the truth will set you free, but what if it kills you first?
The Last Deception
Lies. Deception. A nation on the brink of war... Just when Leine Basso thinks she’s free from the business of murder and deception, a desperate call from a friend drags her back into the dark world of espionage and arms dealers. (Keep reading for an excerpt)
Kate Jones Adventure Thriller Series:
Kate Jones Thriller Series Vol. 1
The first 4 novellas in the bestselling Kate Jones Thriller Series: Bad Spirits, Dead of Winter, Death Rites, and Touring for Death.
Cruising for Death
Kate and Cole are on a luxury cruise in the Caribbean when a passenger dies of an apparent heart attack and the ship is boarded by modern-day pirates. Along with two other passengers, Kate is kidnapped by a long-lost enemy who wants to settle an old score.
Yucatán Dead
Hunted by a ruthless cartel boss, Kate Jones finds herself deep in the Yucatán determined to turn and fight the evil that pursues her.
A One Way Ticket to Dead
Digging up the past can be deadly…
After years of running from her ex, and his subsequent death, Kate Jones is ready to bury the past and try to piece together a new normal. But first there’s a loose end to tie and it involves digging up old ghosts that are best left alone.
Vigilante Dead
Death. Lies. Revenge.
Newly minted PI Kate Jones lands the case of a lifetime when a young college student with no history of drug abuse dies of an overdose and his parents come to Kate looking for answers. The deeper Kate digs, the more she uncovers about the deadly drug’s origins, forcing her to choose between doing what’s right…
…and getting revenge.
Continue reading for an excerpt of THE LAST DECEPTION, the next explosive novel in the “unputdownable” Leine Basso Crime Thriller series…
Chapter 1
Tripoli, Libya
The predawn call to prayer resonated through Tripoli’s old city as Leine Basso raced along the whitewashed corridor of the medina. She was running out of time. The traffickers had continually changed Munira’s location and finding verifiable intel had been sketchy. The latest report put the fifteen-year-old Yazidi girl at a residence in the labyrinthine maze of shops, apartments, and restaurants near the harbor, but even that information was several hours old.
“Leine, what’s your position?” Lou Stokes’s voice crackled in her earpiece.
“Five minutes out.”
“Hamid?”
“The same,” Hamid answered.
“Copy that,” Lou said.
Minutes later, Leine turned the corner and entered a second corridor leading to the entrance of the trafficker’s safe house. Slowing her pace, she raised a suppressed MP-5SD and followed the wall. Hamid emerged from the other direction through the predawn gloom with his gun drawn. They both paused near the arched doorway to listen. Hearing nothing, they entered the enclosure.
A dry fountain in the shape of an eight-pointed star stood at the center of the empty courtyard. Tiled steps to Leine’s right led to a second-floor passageway bordered by an ornate metal handrail. Two closed doors could be seen at the top. Hamid continued through the lower level to clear it while Leine quietly ascended to the second floor.
She stopped at the first door to listen, heart thrumming in anticipation.
Nothing. When she tried the handle, the catch disengaged easily. She stepped to the side and pushed the door open.
Empty.
Leine backed away from the room and moved to the second door. This time muffled voices filtered through. She leaned over the railing and gestured to Hamid, who had finished clearing the first floor. He nodded and silently climbed the stairs, continuing along the passageway to check the rest of the structure. She removed a tiny fiber optic camera attached to a cable from the tactical vest she was wearing, and threaded the cable through the gap at the bottom of the door. The two-and-a-half-inch LED monitor flickered to life, showing a partially illuminated room with three occupants.
Two armed men were at a table on the left. The third person, a dark-haired female dressed in lingerie, sat on a mattress on the floor with her knees drawn up to her chin and her hands behind her back. A black plastic zip tie bound her ankles. She matched the photograph Lou had given her.
Munira.
Hamid returned and she showed him the screen before she removed the camera and put it back in her vest. They each took a position away from the direct line of fire and raised their weapons. Leine rocked back and forth three times as Hamid grasped the door handle. On three, he disengaged the lock and she kicked the door open. Leine entered first, with Hamid close behind. The first man shouted to the other one and leaped to his feet, knocking the chair back as he raised his weapon. Leine fired a three-shot burst into him and he dropped to the floor. The other gunman tried to do the same but Hamid shot him twice in the head before he could fire.
While Hamid kept watch at the door, Leine lowered her weapon and turned toward the young woman, now cowering against the wall. Dark bruises covered her face and chest, and several angry red welts marked her arms and legs. The bastards burned her with cigarettes. Leine clenched her teeth and tamped down the anger rising in her chest.
Her captors were dead. It was a start.
“Don’t be afraid, Munira,” Leine said gently in Arabic. “We’re here to help you.”
Munira shook her head in confusion. “Who are you? What do you want?”
“We’re from SHEN, an organization that helps people like you.” Leine slid a tactical knife from her vest and bent to cut the tie binding her ankles. “Are you able to turn around so I can cut your hands free? W
e don’t have much time.”
Munira nodded and struggled to her knees. Leine reached behind her and slit the hard plastic tie, releasing the young woman’s wrists. Leine sheathed the knife as she straightened and held out her hand. The young woman grasped it and pulled herself to her feet. She was tall, though not as tall as Leine, with dark hair that fell to the middle of her back. Leine scanned the room for something to cover the fifteen-year-old.
“What did these men use to dress you?” Leine didn’t think the traffickers would risk taking her from place to place dressed in lingerie.
Munira nodded at the sheet covering the mattress. “This.” She picked up the pale blue fabric and began to wrap it around herself.
“This is taking too much time,” Hamid muttered from the doorway. “We must hurry.”
Leine helped her secure the ends of the makeshift abaya and led her toward the door, giving a wide berth to the dead gunmen. Hamid checked the passageway in both directions before giving the all clear and exiting the room. Leine and Munira followed him down the stairs to the first level.
Leine protected the rear as they advanced to the arched doorway leading to the rest of the medina. Hamid scanned the outside corridor and motioned that it was safe to exit the courtyard. She turned, intending to follow them, when a man with an assault rifle slung over his shoulder appeared on the upper floor, headed for the room with the dead gunmen. His eyes met Leine’s and alarm swept across his face. He scrambled to raise his weapon.
“Eleven o’clock!” Leine yelled and pushed Munira behind her as she aimed the MP-5 at the trafficker. Hamid was faster and fired a prolonged burst, chewing up the tile near the gunman’s feet. The man dove for cover before returning fire.
