Where was her bracelet?
How could she have lost it?
Mena fought the despair threatening to drown her. Throughout all the mayhem after being kidnapped from the Irungu Center, the bracelet had been her one source of strength, helping her through each harrowing moment of her horrifying ordeal. Now it was gone.
Mena couldn’t shake the feeling that the loss of the one connection she still had with Julian meant that he wouldn’t be coming to her rescue this time. She was truly on her own, subject to the whims of dangerous terrorists.
Chapter Forty-Eight
Pulling the bandana tighter across his nose and mouth, Tubeec lifted a hand to shield his eyes from the plumes of red dust rising from the ground as the Gulfstream landed deftly on the desolate private airstrip north of El Wak, near the Kenya-Somalia border. The plane taxied slowly, passing the dozen greenhouses in various states of construction. Turning, he headed back inside the oversized hanger and motioned for his men to bring the captive from the small six by six-foot security office tucked away in the back corner.
Tubeec watched as his men brought the man to him. His hands were tied tightly behind his back and a black cloth covered his face. The man was a quick learner, no longer resisting and fighting back after suffering the consequences of his initial attempts. In due time, the man would thank Tubeec for abducting him from Ethiopia and bringing him to Kenya.
The long arduous assignment was finally coming to an end. Tubeec hadn’t held up his end of the deal, but partial compliance was better than nothing and he had more important things on his mind now. The primaries were months away, but Kipsang Rono was surging in popularity in the tribes known to support him as well as in urban areas of the country. The contents of the flash drive would serve Tubeec well if Rono continued on this trajectory and stole the presidency from Noah Thairu. Tubeec could see a legitimate military position in his future, one that would equip him with the power to crush the men who’d led the attack on his family a decade ago.
The sleek tan and chrome plane rolled to a stop, as the whirring of the jets slowed to a low purr. Tubeec took a step toward the airplane door and watched as the stairs descended. In the darkness of the cabin, a single figure loomed in the doorway.
An old friend from times long ago.
Tubeec regarded him. He hadn’t aged well. His plain face was marred by crevices. But the green eyes were the same as Tubeec remembered, sharp, piercing, and calculating.
The man ducked his head outside the plane, raising a hand at Tubeec, before descending the steps. He held a large steel suitcase in one gloved hand. As they approached each other, a hint of conspiratorial satisfaction rested on the man’s face.
“Tubeec, it is good to see you again.”
“Same to you, my friend, same to you. How are things going in the witness protection program? Have they given you a new name? I was partial to the old,” Tubeec said.
“Still Adam Russell,” he said, slapping a hand on Tubeec’s shoulder, squeezing it. “For now.”
“Let’s get the business out of the way,” Tubeec said.
Balancing the suitcase in the crook of his arm, Adam pressed a button on the side causing the lid to prop open. Tubeec grabbed a stack at random and thumbing through the one hundred dollar bills. From his quick estimation, the case contained more than the agreed-upon sum. Tubeec was not fond of surprises, not even those that seemed to benefit him. The extra money would come with expectations. Expectations Tubeec might not be inclined to fulfill.
Reaching into his pocket, Tubeec pulled out a small vile and pressed down sharply, spraying a fine mist over a few more stacks of bills. When the color didn’t turn black—which would have indicated the money was counterfeit—he nodded in approval. Adam closed the lid and handed it to Tubeec.
“Why so generous, my friend?” Tubeec asked, rubbing a scarred finger against his temple.
Adam gave a short laugh. “Later. Now, it’s your turn.”
“Of course,” Tubeec said, beckoning for Cangrejos to come forward with the small plastic first aid kit. Tubeec grabbed the box, then opened it for Adam to look inside.
“Excellent,” Adam responded. “And was there any difficulty extracting the doctor from his captors?”
“None at all. Whoever took him will think long and hard before doing it again,” Tubeec responded, then motioned for Cangrejos to bring the hooded man forward, stopping close enough for Adam to observe the man but not near enough for an exchange to occur.
Walking to Cangrejos, Tubeec slipped the cloth off the captive’s head. The man’s eyes flew open, squinting in the bright morning light shining into the hangar. His dark skin and bald head were drenched in sweat. Rags of clothes hung from his skinny frame. As the man’s eyes focused, Tubeec watched pure relief flood through him, loosening his muscles as he recognized Adam Russell standing next to the Gulfstream.
Adam took a step toward the man. Tubeec held up a hand. Assad and Suleymaan emerged from the shadows, pointing M4 Carbines at Adam.
“Not so fast,” Tubeec said. He wasn’t ready to complete the exchange until he’d found out what the extra funds were for. What exactly did Adam want him to do?
Adam tipped his head at Tubeec, then addressed the man, “You’re looking well, Quentin. I hope you don’t mind the lengths we had to go through to smuggle you out of Ethiopia.”
“I won’t lie, I never guessed you were behind all of this. How is Priscilla?” Quentin asked.
“She’ll be much better once I get you back to St. Basil,” Adam explained. “She was anxious to enact your plan, but then you disappeared. For months, we didn’t know what happened until we got the ransom call. But you know Priscilla doesn’t take kindly to blackmail. So, I had to be creative to facilitate your release. She’ll be happy to have you back to put the plan in motion.”
“But … it won’t work without—“
