Northern Sun: Book Four in The Mad Mick Series

by Franklin Horton

  George slipped a knife through the shoelaces binding Shani to the chair and sliced her free. He gathered her hands in front of her and tightly bound her wrists with several passes of duct tape. He had proper cuffs at his camper but hadn’t expected to need them today. Using tape was a bush-league kidnapping technique and he found it embarrassing. When he was done, he lowered the knife, cutting the ties that bound her legs to the chair, and stood her up.

  “I am going to walk you through this house and out the front door,” George said. “My suggestion is that you keep your mouth shut. Do not say anything that will incite these men. Do not respond to their taunts. If you provoke them, I may not be able to stop what happens.”

  Shani said nothing. She made no gesture that she understood or acknowledged his words. Accepting that this was all he was going to get, George took Shani by the arm and marched her from the room.

  With no one waiting on them in the hall, they headed toward the living room, George and Shani walked in the lead, Mumin behind them. George had his gun in his hand, leveled on Shani but equally ready to swing it onto anyone who might challenge them. When they got to the living room all conversation died. The men fell silent and stared at the hooded woman.

  Omar was the first to his feet. “What is this?”

  George held up a calming hand. “Nothing to worry about. We’re taking her to another building for security. It will better allow us to do what needs to be done.”

  Omar swept an arm around the room, indicating all the armed men. “More secure than here? You have an army here to guard her. What’s your real concern?” Then he faced Mumin. “Is this your doing, Greek?”

  Emboldened by George’s presence, Mumin tore into the man. “I don’t know what your problem is here, Omar, but I’m sick of the attitude I get from all of you. I put this entire facility into place to help shelter you comfortably. I provide you with good food and nearly everything you ask for. All I get in return is contempt. You look down your noses at me and I’m tired of it. If you men want to leave, you can leave. Go somewhere else and see what the world has to offer you. See if you’re treated as well as I’ve been treating you. Just remember, if you do leave, don’t come back.”

  Mumin swept his eyes around the room, not shying from the glaring expressions he received. He headed for the door.

  George nodded at Omar with a reassuring smile. “It will be fine, my brother. I assure you. Don’t worry about this.”

  Omar didn’t look convinced. He watched George escort the prisoner out the door, then headed after them. In response to Omar’s pursuit, all of the men got to their feet and followed him out the door.

  “What is this?” Qasim asked Omar, gesturing at the three figures stepping off the porch. “They wouldn’t answer me.”

  “It’s a pile of shit,” Omar spat, staring at the backs of George, Mumin, and Shani as they started across the compound grounds. He looked around angrily, spotting a man with an AK in his hand. Omar snatched the rifle from his hands and chambered a round. The unique and distinctive sound of an AK being charged was not lost on the group walking toward the storage building. All three turned back toward the dormitory as Omar leveled the rifle on his target. It was less than fifty yards and he would not miss.

  George held up a hand. “No!”

  It was too late. Omar pulled the trigger.

  There was a massive boom as the round fired in the cold silence of the day. The response was nearly immediate. One of the three dropped to the ground and lay there unmoving.

  21

  Shani stiffened at the gunshot, waiting for the next one. She couldn’t see what had happened but she expected that at any moment she’d take a bullet and it would all be over for her. The secret she’d long held from Conor would never leave her lips.

  “What the hell?” George demanded. “You killed him!”

  Shani’s mind raced. It had to be Mumin who had been shot. He’d angered the men enough that one of his own people had killed him. She would guess it had been Omar. She’d found him to be impulsive and irrational when angry. She’d learned that on the business end of his fist as he’d vented his rage on her. He was never intent on answers, on intelligence, he only wanted to sate his lust for vengeance. His only desire was her blood on his knuckles, her pain before his eyes.

  “Leave us the woman,” Omar demanded.

  His voice confirmed her suspicions. He was the ringleader. He was the one changing the dynamic.

  “We need to find out if she knows anything,” George countered. “There could be others like her, either here already or on the way.”

  Omar’s mouth spread into a wicked smile, although Shani couldn’t see it. “If she knows anything, we’ll get it out of her. Trust me on that. I may not be a trained professional like you, George, but some say I have a natural gift for causing pain.”

  “Are you going to kill me, Omar?” George asked. “Is that what this has come to? After what we’ve done together?”

  George had to be stalling, trying to come up with a plan. Did he refuse Omar? Did he run? No matter his decision, Shani knew she wouldn’t fare well. She was blindfolded and cuffed. Defenseless. She could neither fight nor run. She knew how this would play out. She’d be the meat tossed to the dogs so he could escape.

  “I respect you, George. You will not be harmed if you give us the woman and walk away.”

  “So if I turn my back, you won’t put a bullet in me?” George asked, not sure he trusted Omar.

  “Not as long as you leave the woman,” Omar replied. “We are men of our word.”

  Shani held her breath while she waited to hear what George was going to do. Her answer came in the form of departing footsteps, shoes scuffing through tall grass as George left her standing there. He’d surrendered her. Tossed her before the hounds.

  A howl erupted from the porch.

  22

  At the sound of the gunshot Conor exploded into action. "Downstairs! Now!" he bellowed at Mumin’s family.

  His tone and urgency left no room for debate. The women were concerned as well, desperate to know who’d fired the shot and why. They scooped up the smaller children, prompting the older kids to grab hands and lead their siblings downstairs. Conor gritted his teeth. Their pace down the steep stairs was way too slow to keep up with his adrenaline.

  When he’d finally herded the women downstairs he ordered them to the floor. They huddled with their children, crushing together in the center of the living room. Conor hurried to the front door, the only window on this side of the house. Peering through the tiny arched window he could see two figures standing in the field close to the men’s building. There was another crumpled on the ground. Every single occupant of the men’s building was likely standing on the porch.

  Conor was certain it wasn’t Shani on the ground. While he couldn’t make out details at this distance, there was still a figure standing with a hood over its head. That had to be her. He raised his rifle to his eye and flipped down the 3X magnifier, then aimed the rifle through the glass.

  "No!" Eleanora begged. “What are you doing?”

  "I'm not going to shoot," Conor hissed. "I'm trying to see what's happening out there."

  At that distance, perhaps one hundred and fifty yards, the 3X magnification provided by the flip-down optic was not a significant help. It did, however, allow him to confirm that the hooded figure standing in the yard appeared to be Shani. He judged the man standing beside her to be Mumin’s head of security, George. The red down jacket on the still figure in the grass revealed it was Mumin that had been shot. Conor’s plan had been hosed.

  He prepared to unleash a torrent of profanity until the whimpering of a child reminded him of their presence. He choked it down. It was an odd thing how he could be there on a mission of violence and destruction, how he could threaten the death of this family, yet he felt a need to show restraint with his profanity in front of a child. It had to be that Catholic upbringing no one could never quite extricate themselves fr
om.

  "What is it?" Patrina demanded. “What did you see?”

  Hush!" Conor barked. “I need to think.”

  His mind raced through the options. He could burst out the door and launch a barrage of fully automatic fire at the men on the porch, but what would that accomplish at this distance? It would be spray and pray, with Shani trapped in the middle. Then he saw movement. The man at Shani’s side, the man he assumed to be George, was moving away from her. He was abandoning her. Was this to allow the men on the porch a clear shot at her?

  George was running now, putting ground between him and the men on that porch. None of the terrorists chased or shot at him. In fact, they were not concerned with him at all. They only had eyes for Shani. Conor watched helplessly as the men flowed from the porch and closed in on her.

  With the speed at which they were approaching her, he was unsure of what they intended to do. Were they going to execute her right there? If they threw her to the ground, if they put a gun to her head and made her kneel, he would have no choice but to act. Her death would be imminent.

  Were he closer, or if he had a means to creep closer, this would be an entirely different situation. He could launch an attack and swoop in amidst the chaos. She was just too far away. Regardless of what he tried, they would reach her before he did. It took all he had to restrain himself and not act irrationally. He had to wait this out and see what they were going to do before he acted.

  They did not force her to kneel, nor did they put a gun to her head. Instead, they encircled her and marched her back toward the house. It was certainly not a reprieve. They had saved her for the same reason a cat didn’t immediately kill every mouse it captured. Sometimes they wanted to play. Conor knew the fate that awaited Shani in that house was likely worse than an execution. All he could hope was that he could find a way to intervene.

  He angled his head to watch George fleeing the scene. He must be headed for the storage building because there was nothing else in that direction. Perhaps he felt a need to better arm himself. If that was the case, he would be surprised when he tried to use the weapons in the locker. He would find himself with plenty of ammunition but no functioning weapons.

  Certain that he would not have any opportunity to launch a full frontal assault on the men in the building, Conor wondered if he should make a trip to the storage building instead. Perhaps it was time to meet George and get to know him a little bit. Judging by the actions of the terrorists, they felt no allegiance to him.

  Conor felt he needed more information before he could move against the men’s building. With Mumin dead, George might be his only opportunity to gain that intelligence. Without it, he’d be operating blind. Before he could leave Mumin’s house, though, he needed to deal with Mumin’s family, or families, depending on how you looked at it. He had no intention of leaving them running loose. They’d get themselves killed or compromise him. They had a better chance of staying alive if he could lock them up for safekeeping.

  “In the kitchen,” Conor ordered. “I need you to get all of the food and water you can carry. If you need diapers and baby stuff, get that too.”

  The women didn’t speak but regarded him curiously.

  “Now!” he barked.

  They got to their feet and streamed into the kitchen. Eleanora, the older of the women, leapt into action. Sensing where this might be going, she emptied cabinets and the refrigerator with proficiency. Patrina and the older children loaded their arms.

  "Where are we going?" Patrina asked. “Upstairs?”

  Conor shook his head. "The restrooms. Downstairs. They’re spacious, they have toilets, and it will be easy for me to secure you in there. You’ll be safe until this all shakes out."

  "But how will we get out if you get killed?” Patrina asked.

  "I suggest you spend your time in there praying for my safety. I’m the best option you have. If those men in the other building come out on top, you don’t want them finding you."

  The look in her eyes told Conor he was correct in his assessment. Perhaps Mumin had warned them before to keep their distance from the men. The revelation that those men might present a threat did not appear to be news to her.

  “Okay children, follow me,” Patrina said. “We’re going to take a load to the bathroom.”

  “Not you,” Conor said. “You stay with me. Let the older children lead them.” He still didn’t trust that one.

  Patrina flashed him an angry look but didn’t protest. “Very well.”

  Their hands full, the older of the children led a train of children to empty their cargo into the women’s restroom. While they were gone, Eleanora and Patrina collected more snacks and items that didn’t require cooking.

  “I hope this doesn’t take long,” Eleanora commented.

  Conor wasn’t sure what to say to that. He had the same hope, but there were no guarantees in life.

  When the children returned, everyone loaded their arms again. Eleanora and Patrina went this time too. Conor allowed them one last trip to get some blankets and pillows, then he pulled the bathroom door shut. The bathrooms were commercial-level construction. The doors were solid core, hinged inward, and had heavy steel loop handles.

  Conor removed a hank of paracord from a cargo pocket and ran it between the door handle of the women’s restroom and the loop handle on the men’s restroom across the hall. He made several passes with the cord, looping it between the handles and pulling it tight. With that done, he tied it off with a secure hitch knot. Without windows in the bathrooms, there was no means of egress. There was no way these women were getting out without help.

  23

  Conor crept out the back door of Mumin’s house and made his way around to the front corner. He peered around. There were no longer men guarding the porch of the building across the compound. Everyone was inside with Shani. Conor imagined there would be an interrogation commencing soon and everyone wanted to bear witness to it.

  With George inside the storage building and no one watching the common area between the structures, there was no reason for Conor to travel through the woods. He broke into a sprint and raced toward the storage building. He slowed as he approached, not wanting the sound of his steps to give him away. He took a moment and let his breathing settle while he fished out the key that Mumin had left in the lock earlier.

  In the silent building, with its thick insulated walls, sound would travel. He needed to be careful. He needed to move thoughtfully and with precision. No wasted effort and no carelessness.

  He introduced the key to the keyway and pushed slowly. As he’d noted before, the lock had barely been used and the pins were still rough. Over time they’d be polished, smoothed by use, but they weren’t there yet. He carefully slid the key in, feeling as it moved past each pin. Once it was fully seated, he unlocked the door.

  There was a faint noise as he pushed the door open. He was surprised to find the lights off. He hadn’t seen George enter the building but had assumed this to be his destination based on his direction of travel. It hit Conor at that point that it didn’t matter how silent he’d been. If George was in the storage building, Conor had announced himself by allowing daylight into the interior of the dark space.

  That assumption was verified when the cold barrel of a rifle pressed against his temple.

  “Come in,” said an accented voice. “Drop your rifle.”

  Conor did as he was told, entering the building and allowing his rifle to dangle from the sling. Conor assumed that the rifle George held was one he’d disabled when he’d been in here earlier but he better make sure of that before he made any bold moves. George closed the door and flipped the light switch on.

  “You must be George,” Conor said. “We’ve not been introduced.”

  The man seemed taken aback that Conor knew his name. “I am George. Can I ask how you knew that?”

  “Mumin told me before I sent him on his mission. He was supposed to bring my friend back to this building.”

&nb
sp; George nodded. “Ah, the woman. As you can see, that didn’t work. The move angered the men. They killed Mumin and took the woman back. How did you get Mumin to cooperate with such a thing?”

  Conor grinned. “I was holding his family as collateral. I told him he was going to die either way but this was an opportunity to save them.”

  “Fucking fortuneteller, you are,” George muttered. “Mumin is dead, all right.”

  “That’s only one of me superpowers, George. Tell me about these men. Tell me about their house. I really don’t have a lot of time so I’m going to have to ask for the Reader’s Digest version. Make it short and sweet.”

  George laughed. “Don’t let my circumstances lead you to the conclusion that we’re on the same team, sir. We’re not. Having a mutual enemy does not make us friends.”

  “I’m in agreement with you there, my friend. We’re definitely not on the same team. I’m one of the good guys. You’re a slimy terrorist bastard.”

  “You’re wrong there,” George said, waving a finger to pause Conor. “I only work for a slimy terrorist bastard. I had no part in Mumin’s work. I’m merely an employee.”

  “I’m not here to argue about your role in this. Let’s start with how many men are in that building. Can you tell me exactly?”

  Conor’s brash manner was irritating George. “Why you...bastard! Why would I tell you anything? You’re in no position to make demands.”

  Conor slowly raised a hand toward the barrel of George’s gun.

  “Move another inch and I pull the trigger,” George said. “I’ve killed men before. I’m not soft like Mumin.”

  “Then do it,” Conor whispered, still reaching for the barrel.

  George’s mouth tightened, he gritted his teeth, and he pulled the trigger. There was a snap but no shot. Conor wasted no time savoring his relief. He tugged the rifle barrel sharply, pulling George toward him. At the same time, he threw a hard elbow strike with his right arm.