“Yasir, Bashiir, Liban, and Zahi,” Cangrejos responded, his arms clasped behind his back as he stared at the ground, not meeting Tubeec’s eyes. “They are equipped and ready.”
“Bombers?”
Cangrejos said, “Dalmar, Harbi, Xirsi and Suleymaan.”
“Were the explosives created to my specifications?” Tubeec asked.
“Yes, sir. Bombers will be deployed to the designated areas inside the Tribal Museum on your command.”
“Who’s left?” Tubeec asked, although he already knew the answer.
“Rahim, Assad, Geesi, and Nadifa. They will accompany you into the Irungu Center. I will personally serve as the lookout and drive the truck once the mission is complete, as you requested,” Cangrejos said.
“Are all of the targets still inside the building?” Tubeec asked.
Cangrejos confirmed, “Yes, we have visuals of Wangari Irungu, Isaac Gatobu, Grace Kadenge, and Mena Nix. All four targets are in the building and expected to remain there until five o’clock.”
“And the flower delivery truck?” Tubeec asked.
“Left the shop two minutes ago and will be arriving in ten minutes.” Cangrejos’ answer came.
Pleased, Tubeec said, “Wrap up the preparations.”
Cangrejos nodded, then turned and rejoined the rest of the militia, issuing final instructions to the team.
In a matter of minutes, terror and destruction would be unleashed onto an unsuspecting group of presumably innocent people at the Tribal Museum in downtown Nairobi. No one would expect another attack so soon. Three days ago, a suicide bomber had disrupted a private fundraising dinner for President Noah Thairu on the museum rooftop. His source within the police department confirmed that no group had claimed responsibility.
Tubeec knew that no group would.
The suicide bomber hadn’t been trying to kill the beloved Kenyan president. The attack had been part of Tubeec’s complex plan to observe and assess the Kenyan police’s response to terrorism. Critical information that had allowed him to finalize the plans for today’s mission.
Tubeec surveyed the men, now standing at attention in a straight line dressed in green trousers and long-sleeve green shirts. Ammunition belts crossed their chests. Black scarves hid noses and mouths of the men as they stared into the distance, dark paint smeared under intense eyes.
After changing into the green shirt and trousers, Tubeec put on the black combat boots that rested against the wall. He reached into his pocket and squinted as he pulled out his black scarf. Tying it around his head, he lifted the fabric over his nose and mouth, then glanced at his watch.
A surge of energy spiked in the air.
At his cue, the men sprinted to the back wall, grabbing the M4 Carbine assault rifles.
Tubeec would remain unarmed.
He never thought of his own safety.
Why protect a life that wasn’t worth living?
They waited for his signal.
Tubeec’s words were almost a whisper.
“Let’s go.”
Chapter One
“Is this the part where I’m supposed to carry you across the threshold?” Julian Montgomery asked, gliding the two oversized suitcases down the hallway.
Mena Nix turned, her eyes wide. She mouthed “no” in his direction then placed the cell phone back to her ear as she headed toward the dark gray steel door at the end of the corridor.
Julian couldn’t help but smile as he followed Mena toward the condo they’d been sharing for the past six months, a two-bedroom, one and a half bath, property in one of Nairobi’s newest high rise complexes. He would’ve pinched himself if his hands weren’t already full. Readjusting the duffel bag on his left shoulder and the smaller backpack on his right, Julian brought the roller bags to a stop. He leaned against one of the overweight bags, stuffed with Mena’s impulse purchases from their trip to Florida for the holidays.
