Sharp beeps of the truck reversing screeched as Tubeec reached the bottom floor. One of the men rolled the trailer door up with a loud bang. Two other men carried Mena Nix and Wangari Irungu inside. Neither woman struggled, terror in their eyes as they were helplessly dragged into the dark opening of the truck.
The patriarch of the Irungu Family would be desperate to get his sole heir back. Offering Tubeec piles of money for her safe return. But money was useless for this mission. The ransom would be for something more important than cash.
“Help us!” Grace cried, pushing away from Assad, moving quickly, running out of her heels as she staggered toward the street.
“Grace, don’t!” Isaac screamed, trying to jerk away from Rahim and Nadifa, who restrained him.
Assad raised the assault rifle, aiming it toward Grace.
Two shots rang out.
Blood spread across the back of the pale yellow dress Grace wore as she stumbled to the ground, collapsing in a heap along the curb in the alley.
“No!!!” Isaac screamed, his voice loud and hoarse, tears clouding his eyes as he bucked against the men holding him back.
Tubeec nodded at Geesi.
A swift blow to the back of Isaac’s head with the butt of the assault rifle knocked Isaac out, and he was dragged into the back of the truck.
“What about Grace Kadenge?” Assad asked, stepping onto the concrete landing next to Tubeec.
“Leave her. She’s no use to us now.” Tubeec headed toward the front cab of the truck.
Grabbing the handle, Tubeec opened the door and nodded to Cangrejos.
Cangrejos lifted his cell phone, speaking quickly, “Exiting in twenty seconds. Coordinate and deploy to your routes now.”
Tubeec grabbed the seat belt and clicked it into place.
Five identical East African Flower Company trucks were strategically located within one mile of the museum. The strike team and the bombers were to evacuate to the designated areas, each driving one of the trucks around the downtown area for five minutes until Cangrejos made it to the highway. The trucks would then take their pre-planned routes along the same highway to different destinations.
“Law enforcement on the ground, but all of our men have vacated the museum premises,” Cangrejos said.
As the truck pulled out of the docking area, passing through the narrow alley, Tubeec looked down at Grace’s bloody body lying limp on the ground. He could see the slight movement of her torso. She wasn’t dead … yet.
As Cangrejos steered the truck to the left, onto the main thoroughfare, Tubeec put his earpods in his ears, cranking up the American hip-hop music he loved. Reaching into his pocket, he grabbed his cell phone and entered the six-digit code.
Seconds later, a giant burst of flames shot through the air.
Chapter Nineteen
Fumbling with his cell phone, Julian ran faster, pushing and shoving through hoards of screaming tourists and locals fleeing the museum and corporate buildings. Women clutched their purses, running barefoot down the crowded street. Men sprinted past, knocking over slower pedestrians. Panic and fear etched on their faces as they passed him.
The ringing in his ear continued until he heard Mena’s voice message … again.
Damn it!
Why wasn’t she answering her phone?
Two more blocks and he’d be at the museum. The acrid smell of gas and gunpowder intensified as he approached the last block.
Police officers, swinging their arms like windmills, ushered the crowds to safety far away from the museum.
While everyone was fleeing danger, Julian surged toward it. The heat brushed hot waves against his skin as he bumped and maneuvered through the bodies pressing past him.
Julian slowed his pace as he reached the end of the street. The Tribal Museum loomed ahead. The modern building, acclaimed as a museum of the future, was engulfed in flames. Shattered glass from the ground floor windows littered the road. Bushes, flowers, and trees disintegrated as orange flames danced across the sculptures adorning the front lawn of the museum, burning everything in sight. The air was thick with plumes of black smoke, choking his lungs.
A warzone stretched before him. Julian shielded his eyes, air pumping heavily in and out of his lungs. His mouth went dry as he tried to swallow past the smoke scratching his throat.
