Prologue
The door of the black SUV opened.
Tubeec Hirad stepped out, then glanced up at the Global Exchange Building. Slipping the cell phone into the inner pocket of his tailored Armani suit, he dodged a group of young aspiring corporate types as he made his way to the revolving doors.
The call had gone as he’d expected. Tubeec marveled at the unwillingness to take his threats seriously. He had a reputation for never bluffing, yet time and again, he was forced to exact a toll on unsuspecting targets because their loved ones refused to comply with his demands.
Passing through the modern chrome lobby, Tubeec waved to the security guards who’d grown accustomed to seeing him enter and exit the building at various hours over the past two months.
“Good afternoon, Mr. Henderson.” The guards greeted him. They believed he was Mitchell Henderson, as his security badge indicated.
Just another hard-working investment banker with the private equity firm housed on five floors of the building.
Stepping into the crowded chrome elevator, Tubeec reached past a woman dressed in a short mini skirt and pressed the button for the sixth floor. She recoiled, her eyes locked on his scarred hand. She didn’t turn to look at him. A pity. She would have been surprised to see that he was still a relatively handsome man. The fire had ravished over eighty percent of his body, but his disfigured skin was mostly hidden underneath his expensive suit.
As the elevator stopped on each floor, ushering workers on and off, Tubeec inhaled the flowery stench of the woman’s perfume. He regarded her flat ass in the tight skirt. She had a pretty face, but her body would do nothing to arouse anything more than mild interest in him.
The computerized voice announced “sixth floor.”
“Excuse me,” Tubeec said, brushing past the young woman, glancing at her breasts as he exited the elevator. She gave him a seductive smile, no doubt relieved that his face wasn’t as grotesque as his hand. Another day, Tubeec would have made her pay for her relief, making her wish she’d never laid eyes on him. Today, he had more pressing business.
Alone in the hallway, he proceeded to the stairwell and took the stairs, two at a time, up the four flights to the tenth floor. Maneuvering through thick plastic covering the open doorway, Tubeec walked into the construction zone, a large, empty space.
Fading late afternoon sunlight stretched across the floor from the box windows lining the walls. The Global Exchange building had been the right choice, although Tubeec had been skeptical at first. Utilizing the space currently being renovated for the Deputy President of Kenya, Kipsang Rono, was risky. Tubeec had taken advantage of the delay in construction as the government shifted focus to the political primaries that would begin in the next few months.
His dark wingtip shoes, powdered with the dust of construction debris, were silent against the concrete floor. The thirteen men were oblivious to his approach, lost in the thunderous cacophony of preparation for their roles in the final stages of his plan. The militants had posed as businessmen, entering the building dressed in expensive business suits similar to his own. Each held a suitcase containing a change of clothes and the equipment and weapons they’d need to complete the delicate operations.
Snippets of conversation reached Tubeec’s ears. The trained killers bragged about last week’s conquest. Each man insisted he’d pleasured the innocent teen girl the best as if the necessary sacrifice had brought her any pleasure. Tubeec felt no guilt for his part in the gang rape of the young woman. She was a means to an end. A way to control the boy and make him do what Tubeec needed.
As he passed each member of his specially assembled team, a hush fell across the large room. Movement ceased as the men engaged in a synchronized salute, then took an at-ease stance waiting for a sign from him. Tubeec scrutinized them. Each man had been chosen not only because of superb skills but also because of the discretion shown in numerous operations in the past.
But this wasn’t a typical operation.
In fact, it was one of the most complex assignments Tubeec had ever orchestrated. A brazen endeavor he couldn’t resist. Targeting one of the richest and most powerful families in Africa could cost him his freedom.
Originally, he’d had no plans to complicate this mission, preferring instead to keep things simple. The universe had other ideas, presenting him with an opportunity to kill two birds with one stone, as the saying went.
Completing the inspection of the men, Tubeec stalked toward an empty corner of the room to a window that overlooked the Tribal Museum and Irungu Center across the street. He could feel the eyes of the men tracking him as they resumed preparation for the job.
Tubeec wiped the sweat from his face. The rough texture of his scarred hand against the only smooth skin on his body was a welcomed reminder of the past. Today was the anniversary of the worst day of his life. The day he’d been transformed from a scientist into one of the most dangerous men in Africa.
Some said he was insanely treacherous and unpredictable. Others whispered that he had no soul and had never felt remorse for the atrocities he’d performed.
They were wrong. His soul had died ten years ago today, January 13th, when he watched his twin sons hacked to death with machetes and his wife gang raped by government-sanctioned soldiers. He’d tried to beat them away from his family, but his efforts were futile. The soldiers bound him to a nearby tree, sprayed his body with gasoline, and tossed a match onto the brush underneath his feet. Squirming and screaming as the fire climbed up his body, he’d somehow managed to free himself. Howling his anguish, he’d staggered and stumbled toward his wife and twin sons, left to die in a nearby field. His wounded screams pierced the still air as he gathered their mutilated bodies in his arms.
In his grief, he’d become a monster.
Making others suffer as much as he’d suffered became his addiction, his reason for living. Until he was reunited with his family again, he would kill and destroy. Never would anyone make him feel helpless and afraid. Instead, he would be the one to wield fear as a weapon, daring anyone to try to hurt him again.
The success of this mission would give him what he most desired—revenge. The power to destroy those who’d destroyed the life he’d had before.
“Cangrejos!” Tubeec commanded, his voice echoing through the room.
Frantic footsteps thundered across the concrete floor, stopping mere feet behind him.
Tubeec turned and glared at his second in command, a loyal foot soldier he’d rescued from a Panamanian mafia hit a few years ago.
“Who’s on the strike team?” Tubeec asked.
