AllFreeNovel
Share Us
The space was too narrow to allow her to open her door, but she wouldn’t have even if she could. The armor Mitch had built into the SUV was all that was between them and the men outside. Anna tried to grab hold of her, but Claudia pulled away, reaching for her cell phone. No signal. The metal box they were trapped in was blocking reception.
The vehicle lurched and she looked up through the moonroof to see a man with a thick beard and wide grin. A moment later, he was in motion, swinging a sledgehammer down with a deafening crash that was immediately lost in Anna’s terrified scream.
The reinforced glass held, but there was no way to know if it would continue to do so. Claudia unlatched her daughter’s seat belt and pulled her close, trying to quiet her sobbing as the man continued to attack the glass.
After about a minute, the first crack formed. The man howled with glee but Claudia couldn’t bring herself to look up. Her terror turned to a sensation of paralyzing guilt deeper than anything she’d ever felt before. She deserved this for the things she’d done in her life. But not Anna. She was innocent.
CHAPTER 5
NEAR MASERU
LESOTHO
RAPP tried to wrench himself into a more comfortable position as he squinted into the light bleeding through the trunk lid. His hands were taped behind him, making it impossible to see his watch, but the fact that the sun was coming up suggested that he’d been crammed into the tiny space for a good ten hours. Karmic payback for all the people he’d stuffed into similar trunks over his career.
The road had become noticeably worse over the last hour and the vehicle dropped into yet another rut, ramming his head into what was probably a lug wrench. By his count, it was the twelfth time that had happened, and with every repeat, his anger grew.
Rapp knew pretty much everything there was to know about the shooter he’d found on that cliff face. His name was Steve Thompson, though these days he answered to Kent Black. Apparently he felt the new name gave him more gravitas. His father had been an abusive survivalist who years ago had taken his young son to a remote corner of Montana in preparation for the end of the world.
They’d lived there with no electricity or running water for a little over ten years before the old man suddenly disappeared. No body or evidence of foul play was ever found. In all likelihood, it had been the first demonstration of his son’s unusual talents.
With little formal schooling and nowhere to go, Thompson had gotten his GED and joined the army. He’d eventually become a Ranger and seen a fair amount of combat in the Middle East. After eight years of that, he’d finally been drummed out for insubordination. There had been no specific incident that stood out. Just a general distaste for authority that he couldn’t be bothered to hide.
It had been an interesting enough resume to land on Rapp’s desk but he’d decided there were too many red flags. The issues with authority were only the tip of the iceberg. Thompson was a talented operator but a loner to the point of being a guy you wouldn’t necessarily be able to count on when the shit hit the fan. And then there were the sociopathic tendencies, the potential beginnings of a cocaine problem, and the fact that he’d likely murdered his own father. There was no question the old bastard had it coming, but it brought into question where the kid’s boundaries were. Or if he had any at all.
The accomplice who had helped wedge Rapp into his present accommodation was more enigmatic. Judging by his accent, probably Iraqi. Early twenties with a thick beard and the wild eyes that Rapp had come to associate with ISIS.
An interesting pair, to say the least: the young American mercenary with well-documented sociopathic tendencies matched with an even younger member of a jihadist movement that wasn’t in the habit of hiring contractors—particularly American ones.
The car skidded to a stop and Rapp rolled toward the front, slamming his head into the lug wrench again. The trunk flew open a few moments later and he turned away from the bright sunlight as the Iraqi grabbed him by the hair and dragged him out. The stream of Arabic insults was nonstop and he likely assumed that Rapp wouldn’t be able to comprehend it. When the terrorist got around to Mitch’s mother, though, Rapp swung a foot into the side of his leg, dropping him to his knees. A follow-up kick landed between his shoulder blades and put his face into the rear bumper.
“Stop!”
Rapp turned toward Thompson and looked down the silencer of his own gun. One of his least favorite things to do.
Blood was gushing from the Arab’s nose as he leapt to his feet and prepared to charge, but Thompson shifted the weapon toward him. “I said stop! Both of you.”
Rapp just turned and started walking toward the only building in sight.
“Wait!”
He ignored the man, using the time to take in his surroundings. The mountains were less rocky than those around Franschhoek and everything was green. Despite the clear sky and sun angling in from the east, the air didn’t hold much heat, suggesting a significant increase in altitude. More interesting was the building itself. Windowless and constructed entirely of cinder block, its purpose was painted on it in faded red letters: Mortuary.
Thompson and the bleeding Arab fell in behind as Rapp pushed through a heavy wooden door.
The room was probably twenty-five feet square, with the woman and the girl he’d come to Africa to help sitting on a collapsing sofa at the far end. Claudia looked understandably distraught, while Anna was nearly catatonic. They were guarded by an armed Arab who looked just as crazy as the one dripping onto the floor by the entrance.
Finally, there was a coffin in the center of the room containing the emaciated corpse of a man who looked to have been about thirty when he died. Whether the condition of the body was from the illness that killed him or the fact that he’d just gotten a little dried out was hard to tell. At least he didn’t smell.
Claudia stood and started toward Rapp but the man guarding her swung his rifle butt into her chest hard enough to knock her to the floor. Anna came to life, darting for her mother and landing beside her, crying loudly. Rapp felt his anger flare but there wasn’t a lot he could do with his hands secured behind his back.
Claudia looked more scared than hurt and she pulled her daughter back to the sofa, keeping a watchful eye on the man screaming about crushing her skull and raping her dead body before doing the same to Anna. Fortunately, French and English were her only languages and she had no idea what was being said.
“Move,” Thompson said, indicating a door to the left. With few other options, Rapp entered what appeared to be an embalming room.
“Sit.”
He did as he was told and Thompson used more tape to secure him to the chair. When he was satisfied with his handiwork, he dumped Rapp’s gun and other personal effects on a metal gurney next to a body in the process of being prepared for burial.
