“I know all of that. Where is Mena?”
“That’s what I’m trying to tell you. All of that was done to cover up the fact that another smaller team of terrorists entered the Irungu Center and kidnapped Wangari Irungu … you have to come with me. We need to start the search to find her,” Sunny insisted.
“I’m sorry that Wangari was kidnapped,” Julian said, and he meant it. The lengths this group had gone through to abduct one of the richest heiresses in Africa was mind-boggling. But Wangari couldn’t be his priority right now. “I’ll do whatever I can to help you in the search for her, but not until I find Mena. Do you know where she is?”
Sunny took a deep breath. “That’s what I’m trying to explain to you. They didn’t just kidnap Wangari …”
“They took Mena?” Julian asked, gripping Sunny’s shoulders. “The fuckers took Mena, too?”
Sunny nodded slowly. “You help us save Wangari Irungu’s life and you’ll also save Mena’s.”
Chapter Twenty
Easing back against the soft leather of the Mercedes, Julian pondered the assessment of the report completed by the Irungu Family’s security team. He was convinced the attack on the museum was related to the botched suicide bombing he’d thwarted three days ago, even though no terrorist group had claimed responsibility for it.
The report indicated skepticism that terrorists were behind the kidnapping of the Irungu Center employees. It presented a different conclusion, one Julian hadn’t anticipated or considered.
Non-terrorist conspired kidnapping with political revenge motive.
Summoned to the corporate headquarters of the Irungu horticultural conglomerate, Julian had spent the past hour with Sunny and the rest of the TIDES team. In a large conference room, they were debriefed on the latest news about the shooting and bombing at the museum and the kidnapping of Wangari and her team of conservators. The family was keen to get TIDES involved in the search. Sunny would remain at the Irungu’s sprawling estate in Runda, working side-by-side with the head of their security team. Timothy Irungu had specifically asked Julian to lead the field teams and liaise with the African Special Forces on behalf of the family.
Julian had accepted without hesitation.
There was no subtlety in the patriarch’s urgent request. Timothy Irungu knew Julian had as much to lose as he did, which was why he wanted Julian on the ground leading the search and rescue efforts with the ASF. In addition to Mena and Wangari, a third conservator, Isaac Gatobu, was also kidnapped. The fourth conservator, Grace Kadenge, was the woman the EMTs had placed into the back of an ambulance. Her injuries were serious, but initial reports from the hospital indicated that she would survive.
Flipping through the report, Julian re-read the section on Wangari’s husband, Okeyo Lagat. The scathing assessment of the current Director of Public Prosecutions and his unintended role in the kidnapping was alarming. Lagat was credited for his aggressive efforts to get rid of the financial corruption that had crippled the Kenyan government for decades, but the assessment also blamed him. Over the past four years, Lagat had prosecuted many high ranking members of government and local business leaders—any one of whom might be seeking revenge for their loss of status, money, and in certain cases, freedom. The Irungu security team had concluded that Wangari’s kidnapping was likely orchestrated by an enemy of her husband.
Julian exhaled.
If revenge really was the motive, the kidnappers wouldn’t be swayed by money. They’d be hell-bent on making Lagat pay.
Focusing on the report again, Julian considered another disturbing detail. The kidnappers had taken extra hostages. Expendables. Mena and the other conservator, Isaac, might be killed if the kidnappers wanted to prove a point. The point being that they were serious and not to be fucked with.
Julian wasn’t going to let Mena be an unwitting victim of a political fight that had nothing to do with her. He couldn’t let her suffer the consequences of being caught in the wrong place at the wrong time. Not again.
As the car slowed near a gated parking garage, Julian scanned the area around the building. The United Nations Complex and the U.S. embassy loomed in the distance. The metal gate lifted, and the driver turned the car into the garage, descending down the ramp of the darkened structure. Slowly proceeding past rows of dark luxury vehicles with black tinted windows, neatly parked in the center of the spaces, the Mercedes descended two more levels before stopping in front of a set of glass doors.
Sliding across the leather seats, Julian left the report on the floorboard of the backseat and exited the sedan.
A soldier dressed in gray military fatigues greeted him. “This way.”
Julian followed him through the glass doors and down a short hallway to an open elevator. Stepping inside, Julian stood between two armed guards in the oversized compartment. The metal doors slid together silently, and the elevator began its descent. Surrounded by the three ASF agents, Julian located the infrared camera in the corner of the elevator, which was undetectable to the untrained eye. There were no buttons on the side panels of the elevator car. The elevator was remotely controlled by agents from ComCentral. The entire compartment was pristine and clean. No smudges or fingerprints on the walls. The floor free of dust, dirt, and debris.
The soft metallic hum of cables moving the elevator lower ended abruptly, and the doors opened.
The unarmed soldier exited first, beckoning Julian to follow him. The armed soldiers followed close behind, the ends of their assault rifles grazing Julian’s back as they proceeded down the brightly lit hallway. Julian rested his arms behind him, touching the Beretta M9 tucked in his waistband, ready to grab it if needed. Following the soldier, twisting and turning through several corridors, they finally approached a single wooden door.
“Search him,” the unarmed soldier demanded.
Julian turned, holding up his hand to stop the soldiers. He removed the Beretta from his waistband and lifted the leg of his pants to dislodge the butterfly knife. “That’s all I got fellas.”
Now was not the time to be cagey about weaponry. Finding Mena was more important than keeping equipment he didn’t need. He could take out the ASF agents with or without weapons.
One of the soldiers grabbed the weapons, then looked past him at the unarmed soldier.
The unarmed soldier nodded his approval, then opened the door and motioned for Julian to enter. Stepping into the small conference room, Julian’s eyes were drawn to the warrior masks that adorned the left and right walls. Near the door, a widescreen television covered most of the width of the wall.
Across the room toward the far end was an oblong table surrounded with six chairs. A built-in bookshelf filled with tactical guides lined the back wall, surrounding a cutout space where the seal of the African Special Forces rested in the middle.
