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Hell's Choir (NICHOLAS SHARP THRILLER SERIES Book 3)

Page 20

by Mark Mannock


  It was over.

  Kaitlin Reed’s blond hair flooded my vision as she hurled herself from the back of the stage onto the woman. I didn’t even know she was there. The two bodies rolled off the president, entwined in a struggling, violent mess.

  The assassin broke free first, shoving Kaitlin away, causing her to fall backward onto the stage, knocking her head hard against a speaker.

  The woman whirled, diving behind Blake’s prone body just as several rounds of gunfire shattered the stage behind her, missing Kaitlin’s motionless form by inches.

  Once again, I lunged forward, attempting to separate the woman from the president. As she raised her blade for a second attempt at the kill shot, I was only inches away. Unexpectedly, the woman changed tactic. Flipping up to a half-crouch, she bore down on me. She was good, and fast… too damn fast. In my bid to help Blake, I’d now put myself between the woman and the Secret Service agents, although I was certain they’d be swarming around to find the clear shot.

  The stiletto was heading my way again, and I was running out of strength. As the assassin’s arm came down toward my chest, I made a last effort. Grabbing her wrist, I twisted hard with every bit of force I could summon. I felt the bone snap as I turned her knife wrist backward on a one-eighty-degree angle. The weight of the woman’s torso followed through on her attack, committed. Without me shifting the weapon any further, the razor-sharp stiletto plunged straight through her heart. She collapsed onto me, her yellow eyes frozen in lifeless surprise.

  Atha Riek’s twin sister was dead.

  Chapter 41

  “I told you from the start it was a terrible idea,” said Abe Peterson.

  “Now just calm down, my friend. It all worked out, didn’t it?” Always the voice of reason, President Jefferson Blake sat up in his hospital bed, a reassuring grin on his face.

  “With all due respect, sir, you’re not the one who had to do the worrying.”

  “Abe, you and I have known each other for a long time,” said the president. “Would you expect me to act any differently?”

  “No, sir, I wouldn’t,” replied a chastened Peterson. “I just wish this conversation wasn’t taking place in a hospital room at Walter Reed Medical Center. I would have preferred a fireside chat at the White House.”

  “They’ve patched me up pretty well,” said Blake. “Thanks to Nicholas, Atha Riek’s sister missed all the essential organs, and thanks to Kaitlin, she didn’t get another shot. They tell me I’ll be back at work within three weeks.”

  Blake paused, his mouth widening to a fully-fledged smile as he gazed at his old friend. “And if your men hadn’t taken out the Shararaa bodyguards… Nicholas and I would have been in a lot of trouble.”

  “Well, sir, we weren’t about to lose our second president to the same terrorists in as many months.”

  They’d lost me.

  “Tell them, Abe—they deserve to know,” commanded Blake.

  “The final analysis of the toxicology screens from President Carlton’s autopsy showed very faint traces of ouabain. It’s a cardiac glycoside that induces the symptoms of cardiac arrest.”

  “He was poisoned?” asked Greatrex.

  “Nothing that we can prove,” replied Peterson.

  “The thing is,” began the president, “this ouabain is commonly found in eastern Africa. Traditionally, it’s used as an arrow poison.”

  “Are you saying the Shararaa had already taken out one president before the attack on you at the White House?” I inquired. “I’m afraid it is so,” responded Jumaa, as he stared vacantly out the window. “I have never been more ashamed of my heritage. The fact that our previous government allowed the Shararaa to survive, even flourish, is beyond me.”

  “As the president says, we’ve got no proof and probably never will. However, our analysts believe it to be the case,” Abe Peterson responded.

  “And without proof, the public will never be told,” said the president. His eyes scrutinized every individual in the room. “Is that perfectly clear?”

  Nobody argued.

  The president continued to speak. “Nicholas, you and Jack have risked your lives throughout this entire affair. Abe tells me that if you hadn’t reacted as you did, both in recognizing Atha Riek’s sister and taking her on, chances are I would have been the shortest serving president since William Henry Harrison.”

  “The moment I saw her eyes, it was like staring into Al Fahad’s cold soul all over again. But really, sir, I did very little.”

  Jefferson Blake looked straight through me.

  “Bullshit,” he interjected. “I thank you, my friend… for my life. Your father would be proud.”

  Standing by the door, Kaitlin Reed chuckled.

  Greatrex changed the subject. “Abe, have you found out any more about Atha Riek’s sister? Her name? How she stayed so well hidden? How she rose undetected through the government’s ranks?”

  Peterson responded. “Her name was Akifa Deng. We completely missed that Atha Riek sibling could be a sister—wasn’t even on our radar.”

  “Regarding how she remained so well hidden and became so powerful, perhaps I can answer that,” interrupted Jumaa.

  “Go on,” said Peterson.

  “I have had my people in Sudan working on this. President Sabbir has been most supportive and offered every resource. He feels terrible that President Blake nearly lost his life at the hands of a Sudanese national… again.

  “It appears the father was, as we expected, the motivating force behind Riek and Deng’s despicable careers. The thing that baffled us was that the father lacked any real political clout. He was a heavy-handed and violent man, sending in his daughter to infiltrate the government just wasn’t his style.”

  “So how did she find her way?” I asked.

  “Apparently she had a mentor,” continued Jumaa. “Someone high up enough in the government ranks to create a pathway for her. Someone who shared enough of the Shararaa’s beliefs to risk everything.”

  “You mean some sort of sociopathic sponsor?” added Greatrex.

  “Precisely, Jack. Shall I go on, sir?” Jumaa looked directly at the president.

  Blake just nodded.

  “The story goes that once Akifa Deng showed an incredible talent for manipulation, her mentor realized she was bound for far greater career heights than his own.”

  “So?” I asked.

  “So, once she reached an elevated position, and he could do no more for her, he simply disappeared. Officials can find no trace of the man. They don’t know what name he goes by now or where he is. To be honest, even if they knew his identity, they have no proof of his crimes. Our new president demands transparency. He refuses to oversee a police state where individuals just disappear. He believes his country should now be free of that style of government.”

  “They are admirable aspirations in a leader,” said Jefferson Blake. “The trouble is that this man has caused immeasurable pain to so many innocent people, yet no one can do a thing about it.”

  “It’s almost like being back to square one,” added Greatrex. There was an edge in his voice.

  “Almost,” said Jumaa. “As the Secret Service investigators went through Deng’s belongings, they found a photo. Perhaps it remained her single weakness—an attachment she couldn’t give up. Maybe this man had even been the covert conduit to her brother.”

  “Do you have a copy?” I asked.

  “I do—Agent Peterson provided me with it,” replied our Sudanese friend. He reached into his pocket and produced a picture. Greatrex took it first, scanned it and without saying a word passed it to me.

  I was surprised.

  Epilogue

  The wind had grown colder since we’d last been here. The rolling spaces between the foothills of the Batn-El-Hajar Mountains allowed the chilly air to move unimpeded across the plains.

  “Are you sure about this?” I asked.

  “Yes, my friend. Bloodlines in Sudan can be complicated and convoluted,
but shared blood does not forgive evil.” Jumaa gazed down to the landscape below, his head tilted to one side. He continued, speaking in a slow, measured tone. “I love my sister and I loved her husband, Aathif, as though he was my own brother. He was my brother. We dreamed together, and then suddenly, thanks to these bastards, I witnessed the life drain from his soul before my eyes. I felt the anguish in my sister’s heart when I told her that her son has no father. We must stop these Shararaa assassins. Sadly, I disagree with my president on how that is done… in this instance.”

  “This won’t bring anyone back,” said Greatrex, lying on the sand behind the same rocky outcrop as Jumaa and I.

  “I know, but no one else will die by his hand.”

  We stared down into the valley and waited.

  If there were demons to deal with, I would deal with them later.

  Eventually, an aging white pick-up pulled up in front of the low set clay-and-stone building. It parked in the same spot where Greatrex and I had waited impatiently for Jumaa several months before, as we searched for the Shararaa camp.

  The old man got out. He drew his robes tighter to protect himself from the wind. He had nothing to fear out here. This was his county, his people. His nephew never understood that. He was getting cold now and knew he should go inside. There were fresh plans to rebuild the brotherhood. He would be part of them. Despite the service he’d already given to the cause, the old man still possessed the energy… and the faith, whatever that meant.

  He had time for one more look around. For a split second, in the distance, a thousand yards away, he noticed a glint of metal in the fading sun.

  It was the last thing he ever saw.

  Afterword

  Get your FREE electronic copy of the NICHOLAS SHARP origins Novella PLAY OUT, the latest news about new releases and some other exciting freebies along the way by joining my mailing list at my website: https://markmannock.com

  Although you can begin reading the NICHOLAS SHARP THRILLER series at any point here is my suggested order of reading:

  KILLSONG (NS thriller No. 1-available on Amazon)

  BLOOD NOTE (A NS short story-available exclusively to my mailing list members. I’ll send you the link 7 days after sign-up)

  LETHAL SCORE (NS thriller No. 2-available on Amazon)

  HELL’S CHOIR (NS thriller No. 3-available on Amazon)

  PLAY OUT-an origins novella (available exclusively to my mailing list members on sign-up) can be read at any point. The story takes you back to when Nicholas Sharp left the U.S. Marines.

  Reviews are life’s blood to an author. If you’ve enjoyed HELL’S CHOIR please consider leaving a review on the book’s Amazon page.

  Acknowledgements

  My heartfelt thanks and love to Sarah, Anisha and Jack for your love, tolerance and support. Lachlan, your counsel and wisdom is eternally appreciated. Thank you also to Rebecca Millar, my wonderful and patient editor.

  To my good friend Simon Landid. Thank you for living such an inspiring life and sharing your adventures with me.

  Cover by Anisha Mannock

  About the Author

  Mark Mannock was born in Melbourne, Australia. He has had an extensive career in the music industry including supporting, recording with or writing for Tina Turner, Joni Mitchell, The Eurythmics, Irene Cara and David Hudson. His recorded work with Lia Scallon has twice been long-listed for Grammy Awards.

  As a composer/songwriter Mark’s music has been used across the world in countless television and theatre contexts, including the ‘American Survivor’ TV series and ‘Sleuth’ playwright Anthony Shaffer’s later productions.

  Mark has also been active in music education across Australia promoting student’s ownership and voice in their own educational music journeys. He has won several awards for his endeavours in this area.

  Mark is presently writing the ‘Nicholas Sharp’ thriller series about a disillusioned former US sniper whose past plagues him as he makes his way in the contemporary music industry. Sharp is a man whose insatiable curiosity and embedded moral compass lead him to places he ought not go. The series is currently read in over 50 countries.

  Mark lives on Victoria’s Mornington Peninsula with his family. His travels around the globe act as inspirations for his writing.

  Mark enjoys hearing from his readers, so please feel free to contact him.

  You can connect with me on:

  https://markmannock.com

  https://www.facebook.com/markmannockbooks

  Subscribe to my newsletter:

  https://markmannock.com

  Also by Mark Mannock

  PLAY OUT

  A Terrorist attack on the London Underground. Nicholas Sharp doesn’t think so.

  While on leave from Iraq, the U.S. Marine Sniper finds himself intervening when innocent lives are threatened. He walks away, but for Sharp, it’s never that easy. Something doesn’t feel right. Twenty-four hours later, everything is wrong.

  The brief solace he finds in his beloved piano is shattered when Sharp becomes the attacker’s next target. Step up or step away. Nicholas Sharp doesn’t like to kill, but he sure as hell knows how to.

  Somewhere between Lee Child’s Jack Reacher and Robert Crais’ Elvis Cole, Nicholas Sharp may be a flawed human, but you certainly want him on your side.

  KILLSONG

  http://www.amazon.com/dp/B08CT1FHF5

  Nicholas Sharp is a killer musician… literally!

  Turning his back on the military system that turned him into a murderer when he shot an innocent man, Sharp is grateful to have found refuge in a career as a successful musician. But while he is preparing to back well-known former rock star Robbie West on a USO tour of Iraq, a close friend and her daughter disappear.

  In a deadly game of cat and mouse across three continents, Sharp discovers there’s more at stake than his own life and those close to him. As relentless shadows from his past chase him down, he faces a brutal choice. Kill or be killed.

  “I had to keep reading to the end, could not put it away until I had finished.” Amazon Reader- 5 STARS

  “Jack Reachers attitude… John Lennon’s sensibilities.” Goodreads Reviewer- 5 STARS

  LETHAL SCORE

  http://www.amazon.com/dp/B08CSYKG18

  “A great book that has more twists and turns than you can imagine. Pick up and read at all costs.” Goodreads Reviewer 5 STARS

  “Good music, good plot, good action.” Amazon Reviewer 5 STARS

  Nicholas Sharp is on a tour through Europe, the concerts are sold out and the former Marine sniper turned musician is living in luxury thanks to promoter Antonio Ascardi.

  Suddenly it all goes wrong. People are dying along the way and Sharp is blamed. Now a hunted man, accused of terrorist crimes across the continent, Nicholas Sharp must fight for his life and freedom.

  BLOOD NOTE

  A Short Story Prequel to the Thriller KILLSONG (should be read after KILLSONG-available FREE to mailing list subscribers 7 days after sign-up)

  Just turn around and walk away. That was all Nicholas Sharp had to do when the mysterious and intoxicating Elena approached him for help.

  She knew far too much about him. The warning signs were all there.

  Sharp didn’t listen to them.

  What followed for the former Marine Sniper turned musician, was a harrowing night of violence, deceit and intrigue.

  When the sunrise ushered in a new day, Sharp thought it was all over…but it was really just beginning.

 

 

 
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