Hyperventilating, Mena scurried backward, trying to increase the distance between her and Rahim. Pain seized her chest as she squeezed her eyes shut, tears spilling down her cheeks. Curling her body into a fetal position, she turned from Rahim, hoping and praying he would spare her life. Allow her to survive the kidnapping. If Tubeec had been truthful with her, she wouldn’t be killed or harmed. Not until Tubeec delivered her to the person who’d hired him to kidnap her. But could Tubeec be trusted? Would he just as easily have Rahim stab her to death if she was more trouble than she was worth to him?
Rahim grabbed her ankles and jerked her forward. Her eyes flew open as she whimpered, afraid of what punishment screaming or crying out would elicit. Rahim had dropped to one knee, brandishing the knife near her ankles. With a quick motion, he sliced the ropes binding her. A gasp escaped Mena’s lips as Rahim yanked her to her feet. The strong, tight grip of Rahim’s large hand clamped on her arm sent a jolt of sharp pain through her body. Mena gritted her teeth, refusing to cry out despite the pain radiating through her limb.
His touch was rough as he pushed her forward. Mena struggled to keep up with his long strides. He forced her into the hallway, then slammed her against the wall as two other guards appeared, surrounding Wangari.
Mena looked ahead into the large open room where she’d been earlier. Isaac’s dead body was gone. A dark red stain of blood pooled near the wall where he’d been shot. Mena’s eyes followed the smears of blood from that room to the cracked and broken concrete of the hallway.
She turned her head to the right. Xirsi carried Isaac’s headless body down the hallway and into a room at the end of the hall. Seconds later, Xirsi emerged, wiping his bloody hands against the dark green trousers as he shut the door behind him.
Mena turned back toward Wangari. Her clothes were torn and covered in dirt and blood. She stumbled between the two men, both twice her size as they steered her into a room next to the one Mena had been held in.
Rahim stepped closer to Mena. The musky scent of his sweat assaulted her as he forced her to walk along the hall toward a door leading outside. Mena tried to slow her movements, terrified of what might happen to her. Rahim was too strong to resist. In mere seconds, the warm, brisk night air raked across her skin, sending a spray of fine dirt into her eyes.
Rahim forced her against the sidewall of the building, then walked back to the door and slammed it closed. Mena looked around the deserted yard, trying to focus her eyes in the darkness. To her right, toward the front of the fenced-in compound, a few trees dotted the barren landscape. A lone light shone from the front of the building, casting the rest of the property into a dark abyss. To her left, less than ten feet away from the back of the compound, was a crumbling stone wall. Mena could see no other guards on this part of the property, but that didn’t mean they weren’t there. The pitch-black darkness obscured her view. She could hear voices in the distance, but she wasn’t sure if they were wafting through the breeze from the front of the building or from behind.
Rahim stepped in front of her. His fingers brushed against her face. Mena flinched, squeezing her eyes shut. His rough fingers dragged against her skin, wiping away the dirt until the wind stopped.
“Beautiful. Should not be here,” Rahim said.
Mena opened her eyes and stared at the gunman. The softness in his dark eyes had returned. There was no hint of malice in his gaze or his touch and despite the danger of being alone with him, she didn’t believe he was going to hurt her.
A rush of emotions hit Mena as her body grew limp. Slipping down into the dirt, she cried uncontrollably. She should not be here. She should be back at her condo in the Westlands with Julian. She should be having her nightly phone call to her mom telling her about all the exciting things she’d learned about Kenyans that day and how her work had progressed. She should be reading her online version of thePalmchat Gazette, searching for her Dad’s latest article buried on some obscure page of the website. She should be texting her half-brothers, checking up on their lives and looking at pictures of the antics of her nieces and nephews. That’s what she should be doing. Not crying into the dirt in some unknown deserted area in Africa, being held hostage by a gang of terrorists.
“No cry,” Rahim said, squatting down on the ground next to her. He didn’t make eye contact as he gripped the ropes that bound her hands. Slipping his fingers between the knots, he wiggled the tight ropes. The pain of the ropes against her skin eased away, loosening.
Wangari’s screams pierced the air. “No! No! Please don’t! No! Oh God No!!!”
Rahim stopped as shouts erupted from the building. Dropping her wrists from his hands, he stood and rushed back inside, leaving her alone against the outer wall.
Fear gripped Mena. What were they doing to Wangari? Why would they hurt her now when Okeyo still had time to meet their ransom demand?
The shouts in the tribal language grew more intense and loud. The dull thuds of fists banging flesh grew louder as Wangari’s cries hit a crescendo. There was a loud bang, then an eerie silence settled in the night air.
Mena’s breathing roared in her ears. Leaning over, she pressed her hands to the ground, trying to stand. She stopped, watching as the rope shifted downward on her forearms, toward her elbow.
Wiggling her hand, she pulled backward forcefully against the ropes. The abrasive braids gave way, slackening with each pull. Mena jerked harder as muffled footsteps pounded the ground. She pushed her arm backward with increasing force. The single heart shaped charm clinked softly against her bracelet.
With one more forceful pull, her right arm was free. The ropes dangled loosely against her left arm. Mena sat still, listening for sounds. The jostled movements continued from the front of the building, but there was no sign of Wangari, no sounds from the woman who’d mentored her and become a dear friend.
If Wangari had been murdered, Mena knew there was no hope for her.
Mena glanced at the stone wall less than ten feet away from the back of the property. It loomed toward the sky, challenging her.
Tempting her.
Chapter Thirty-One
Two minutes past 5 a.m. and the darkness of night was beginning to fade. When the sun rose, any surprise attack would be damn near impossible. Julian shifted the night vision goggles to a more comfortable position as he walked briskly across the dirt road lined with shrubs and brushes. Their movements were quick but silent. An outcropping of trees, about three hundred feet away from the CSL, concealed their presence.
Maneuvering toward a sliver of an opening between the trees, Julian raised his binoculars and focused on the CSL in the distance. The cracked and stained stone one-story compound matched the flattened step pyramid structure they’d studied from the satellite photos back at TIDES HQ. Zale’s intel had located the right spot and detected militia movement around the structure. But were the hostages inside? Or had Tubeec pulled one over on TIDES as well?
Turning the binoculars for a sharper focus, Julian scanned the side of the compound.
The front of the building was the width of one room, a tight entry way that opened up into the middle section. From what Zale had been able to research, the middle was twice the size of the entry way and housed a small kitchen area and a large open space. This was believed to be the area where the terrorists had killed Isaac Gatobu. The back section of the building was the widest. It had five windows, each denoting a different room. A second door was on the west side of the compound. Zale estimated that it led to a long hallway that traversed the structure separating the middle and back sections. If their calculations were right, Mena and Wangari were being held in one of those five rooms at the back of the building.
Julian dropped the binoculars, glancing over his shoulder at the four men taking on this mission with him. Dressed in camo fatigues, Enzo and Glaze were outfitted with bullet proof vests, head gear, night vision goggles, and M16 assault rifles. The explosive experts, Wes and Kemp, stood a few paces away. Short and lean, both men carried an M16 and backpacks containing the necessary ingredients to blow up three sections of the stonewall in front of the compound. The diversionary tactics would draw the militia from the structure, giving Julian, Enzo and Glaze a chance to get inside and rescue Wangari and Mena.
The low hum of a drone grew louder. Julian glanced up into the sky, but couldn’t see the device cloaked in the early morning darkness.
