The Last Infidel (13 page)

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Authors: Spikes Donovan

Tags: #Christian Books & Bibles, #Literature & Fiction, #Science Fiction, #Mystery; Thriller & Suspense, #Thrillers & Suspense, #Military, #Teen & Young Adult, #Religious & Inspirational Fiction, #Science Fiction & Fantasy, #Thrillers, #Religion & Spirituality, #Christian Fiction, #Futuristic

BOOK: The Last Infidel
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Cody, standing on the top step at the rear door of the hardware store, leaned forward and took another two AK-47s from Jose.  He passed them back to Marcus who, in turn, passed them back to David.  Nabeeb, standing in the secret passage, handed each gun carefully down to Tracy, who stood on the floor of the secret passage.

“Here are the last two guns,” Jose said, as he handed them to Cody.

“Don’t forget the extra clips and ammunition,” Nabeeb said quietly.

“Oh, I almost forgot that,” Jose said.  “I can’t see in this dark to save my life.”  He knelt down and felt towards the front of the truck’s bed.  “Two crates – probably more than enough.”  He picked one up and handed it over to Cody.  Then he grabbed the last one.

“There’s twenty weapons and three clips for each gun,” Nabeeb said.  “I am sorry I couldn’t do better.”

“This is more than I hoped for,” Cody said, as he handed the last box to Marcus and watched him pass it back.  “Marcus, go down with Nabeeb and Tracy and get this stuff stowed – and hurry.”

Marcus and Nabeeb did as Cody asked and disappeared into the secret passage, closing the door behind them. 

Jose climbed over the side of the truck onto the steps and walked into the workshop.  “And how many boxes of Drano do we have total?”

“Two cases of twelve each,” Cody said.  “That’ll make some of Bashar’s men ill on the last day of Ramadan.  We don’t flush toilets around here anymore, but we can sure use this stuff to---”

“Not so fast, Mr. Cody Marshall,” came a thickly accented voice from the back door.

Cody and Jose froze in place, slowly raising their hands in the air, like they always did when they were surprised.

Asad Morad, one of Jadhari’s officers, with his pistol raised, motioned for Cody and Jose to step to the left.  One other guard hurried into the workshop and stood next to Asad with his rifle raised.  Asad, with a look of confusion on his face, glanced quickly around the room.  “There were others here – and where are the weapons?”

“Weapons?”  Cody said.  “The only weapon around here is your ego.”

“It’s a shame that that pig, Jadhari, is not here to save you tonight,” Asad said.  “He seems to have business tonight with a certain woman we picked up, a spy of some sort who we caught snooping around.”

Cody’s stubbly chin trembled noticeably.  He could feel it; and he knew Asad would have noticed it, too.

“Yes,” Asad said.  “And she is telling Jadhari everything as we speak – that she was carrying messages for you and someone else.  You are going down, Cody Marshall.  Down, down to goblin town.”

Cody paused in a moment of wariness, careful to not blink or breathe too rapidly.  Lisa knew not to return to Murfreesboro.  He’d told her to stay put and wait, and she would’ve done as he’d asked.  And who was this “someone else” Asad was referring to?  Tracy?  If it had been Tracy Graham, he would have said so.  And he certainly had no clue that, just behind him, now being slowly opened, was a secret door to the Underground Railroad.  “Well, Asad, you see no guns.”

“And there were other people in here talking as well,” Asad insisted, leaning and looking up the steps towards the second floor.  “Where are they?  They couldn’t just vanish – and we heard nobody running up the stairs.”

Two other men came running into the room through the door leading to the dining area.  They looked at Asad and shook their heads.  One of them spoke in Arabic. 

Asad checked for a bullet in the chamber of his gun, pulling the slide back gently, and he released it gently.  “Now, I will give you to the count of three.  If you do not tell me where the guns are, I will shoot you.”

The two men on Cody’s left, both armed, conveniently moved towards Asad, taking their places next to their boss so they wouldn’t be sprayed with bullets.

Cody looked over at Jose, who’s eyes were as wide as coffee cup saucers.  He said to him, “Funny how things work out – we’re never that lucky.”

“One,” Asad said.

“What the hell are you talking about?” Jose said, gasping for air.  “They’re going to shoot us!”

“Two,” Asad said, and he took aim right between Cody’s eyes.

“At least it’ll be quick and relatively painless,” Cody said.  “These morons could always use those dull knives of theirs.  Just be thankful they aren’t going to---”

Tracy, Nabeeb, Marcus, and Katrina, all of them with rifles in their hands, yelled for Asad and his men to drop their weapons, yelling and screaming like banshees.  They put the muzzles of their rifles up against the skulls of Asad and his soldiers.

Cody and Jose stepped forward, crossing the space between themselves and Asad and his men in less than a second.  They relieved the men of their exceptionally fine weapons.

Cody looked at Jose and said, “I told you it would be quick and relatively painless.”

“You’re an ass, Cody,” Jose said.  “But I like you.”

“Now, about this spy you caught,” Tracy said to Asad.  “Describe her and tell me where she is, or I will enjoy making you suffer.”

“A girl, an older one,” Asad said, his voice shaking.  “And she’s looking for a woman here – that’s all I know.”

Tracy looked at Cody and Jose.  “Let’s get this trash gagged and blindfolded.  We have something important we need to do.  Nabeeb, you need to hit the road.  Take the Drano – you know the plan.  David will help you carry it.”

Nabeeb bowed; and he and David went to work gathering up all of the Drano they could carry.

Cody and Jose, with the help of Marcus, tied the hands of Asad and his men, blindfolded them, and walked them out through the back door and down the alley.  After fifty paces, they spun them around fifty times until they threw up, and they walked them back towards the workshop.  They then carried them up the stairs, frightening all of the workers, all of whom remained still and silent at Cody’s command, and then brought them back down to the workshop.  Five minutes later, the four men, still blindfolded and tied up, were led down the secret passage and into the basement of the Greenspan building.

Tracy set Asad down in a chair at the table.  She took the one opposite. “Cody,” she said.  “Put you-know-who’s silenced weapon against Mr. Asad’s head.  If he so much as moves a muscle, kill him.  Katrina, untie his hands and tie up his feet.  But leave him blindfolded.

Cody took his position.  Katrina did as she was told.  “Jose,” Cody said.  “Take the other men into the next room.  If they make any sudden moves, kill them.  And I’m not joking.”

“Now, Mr. Asad, put your hands on the table,” Tracy said.

Asad did as he was asked. 

Tracy picked up some old, black wire and fastened Asad’s hands to the table. She ran the wire through the gaps between the boards and up over his dark, dirty hands, twisting the wire together several times like twistems on garbage bags.  Then she drew out a switchblade, its chrome blade glinting in the light of the lamp.  “Katrina – you and Marcus watch the other prisoners with Jose. Get going, now.”

Katrina and Marcus hurried away.

“Okay, Mr. Asad,” Tracy said.  “A girl, you said.  You found her snooping?  Are you sure?  Or do you need an aggressive manicure to help you remember?”  She took the tip of the knife and slid it up under Asad’s finger nail, the one on his index finger.

Asad jumped.  “Do your worst.”

“I can, and I will – thanks for your permission,” Tracy sneered.  She sat up, reached into her rear pocket, and removed a pair of wire cutters.  “I’ve seen what you sons of Satan have done to innocent women and children.  It’s not enough to just kill them – you take pleasure in watching them suffer.  I guess you get that from that damned book of yours.”  She placed the wire cutters’ jaws around the first joint of Asad’s index finger and snugged them up.  “Cody, there’s a roll of duct tape in the bag on the floor.  Will you please cover his mouth?”

Cody, in a state of shock, did as he was asked. 

“Mr. Asad,” Tracy said.  “We won’t just cut off your fingers.  We will cut each finger off three times, starting with the first joint.  That means you will lose parts of your hand thirty times.  Do you think you’ll still be coherent by the time I start with your toes?”

Asad began nodding his head over and over again, mumbling something incoherent from beneath the piece of duct tape.  Maybe he was praying.

Tracy shook her head.  “You guys are such cowards when you’re alone. Take the tape off his mouth, Cody.”

Cody removed the duct tape, grabbing one end with two fingers, and he ripped it away from Asad’s mouth as quickly as he could.  Black facial hair, and lots of it, came off his face with the tape.  Cody winced when he looked at it.  “Dang – that had to hurt,” he said.

“This woman – I think her name is Lisa or something, and she had a black face – grease or something,” Asad said.  “She was on her way to---”

Cody raised his hand to hit Asad, but he backed away.  “There’d be no real fun in bashing your head in.  I like a real fight.”

“Where is Lisa being held?” Tracy demanded.  “You’ve got five seconds.”

“She’s . . . she’s just been brought in and she’s across the square, at the old bank,” Asad said.  “She’s being held in the old vault, but the door is open.  My men are looking for Jadhari right now – but maybe they have already found him.”

Tracy stood up and nodded at Cody, motioning towards the passage with her hand.  Cody followed her.

“We need to get Lisa before they – Jadhari and his men – get to her,” Tracy said.

“Simple diversion,” Cody said.  “We need a suicide bomber to strike on the opposite side of the square.  You know the tunnel system.  Can you get into the bank?”

“We haven’t been inside yet, but Asad can tell us who’s in the bank at this moment.”

After a quick interrogation of Asad, Cody and Tracy outfitted him with a pack filled with five pounds of C-4 and a wireless detonator Cody seemed to have miraculously produced.  They set two, one-pound coffee cans filled with rusty nails into the pack on either side of the charge.

“This is going to be brutal,” Tracy said.

“And you chopping off people’s fingers isn’t?” Cody rebutted.

“No comparison,” Tracy said.  “I’ve only had to remove two fingers from one guy – that hardly counts.”

Jose showed up carrying Lisa’s silenced rifle and an Ak-47.  “I’m ready if you are.”

“Just wait for the explosion,” Cody said.  “You’ll hear it and feel it.”

“We’ll be in position in exactly five minutes,” Tracy said.  “Are you sure you can do this?”

“I’m not sure of anything anymore,” Cody said. 

“Oh, I almost forgot,” Jose said, as he handed Cody a small Zippo lighter and a package of fire crackers.  “I checked the fuses and they’re still good.  But you gotta run fast because they light quick.”

“Kill the others,” Cody said to Jose.  “Get a couple guys and drop them into the drains.”

“Got it, boss,” Jose said.

Tracy and Jose hurried out of the basement and disappeared down the corridor leading to the place beneath the courthouse.  Cody, with Asad in front of him with his hands tied, his eyes covered, and his mouth taped shut, made his way through the tunnel.  He came to the steps leading to the hardware store workshop and carefully guided his prisoner up the rough, hand-hewn blocks of stone.  As the two men passed through the shop, several of Cody’s workers, who were preparing odds and ends for their Tuesday getaway, gave their boss a huge smile and the thumbs-up sign. 

Cody stepped outside into the quiet alley and turned right, heading for the busted up, once-paved, now-gravelly, potholed road known as West Main Street. 

Being one of the last remaining nights of Ramadan, and because most Muslims were now just breaking their fast indoors, Cody had no trouble making his way to the road.  When he reached West Main Street, he stopped and looked out, seeing only the overgrown shrubs growing through the planters which were part of the specially-prepared side walks.  Getting to the square would be easy tonight.

Cody hurried his prisoner from one planting to the next, kneeling and scanning the streets as he went.  A single guard, alone and whistling to himself, crossed over West Main Street heading towards the hardware store. 

As he moved, much like a chess piece across a game board, Cody wondered about his decision to use Asad as a diversion.  He had no doubts about saving Lisa, and for more reasons than he could give.  But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t bring himself to think through the possible – or were they inevitable? – consequences of what he was about to do, something he usually had no problem doing on other occasions.  Right now, here, on this darkened street, with a lowlife in tow, all he could do was feel, as opposed to reason.  And when he thought of Lisa, he felt good in a way he hadn’t felt in a very long time.  As far as Asad was concerned, he felt nothing but hatred for him.

Cody came to a grinding halt when he heard dogs barking.  He pulled himself and his prisoner into the tall, thick shrubs.  He remembered that the imam had a team of bomb-sniffing dogs, and that he’d used them constantly in the mosque over the last week or so.  No matter.  The ruckus was coming from the other side of the square, probably from some back yard over on East Main.  But there’d be a search in the morning, and those dogs would be dragged through the hardware store for sure.  Ammonia should cover any traces of the explosives as well as the reek left behind by Asad and his men.  But Cody would have to remember to douse the work room when he got back.

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