Robert Ferrigno - Sins of the Assassin

Amir stared at Sulayman’s body. “Who was he working for?”

“Your father.” Al-Faisal enjoyed the look on Amir’s face. “Not directly, of course, but Sulayman has appraised him of your…more questionable activities in the past. I’m sure our new association would be of great interest to the general.” It was a lie, of course. Sulayman was as innocent as any man could be. No matter. His death had served its purpose. He nudged Sulayman’s head, rolled it facedown so that it lay in a black nest of his beard. “Don’t worry. We are brothers now. Your enemies are my enemies.”

“Two thousand, three hundred and fifty-seven, with a five percent margin of error,” Leo said softly.

Rakkim stood with one foot on the wooden railing, looking off at the gleaming skyscrapers of the small metropolis in the distance. Columbia City. College town, one of the small tech centers in the Belt, exporting gadgets and expertise around the globe. The last time he had been there, he had been amazed at how clean it was, how well dressed and happy the people seemed. Churches on every block, but folks didn’t beat you over the head with it. The town should have been a target for every bandit and warlord within a hundred miles, but Columbia had a first-class militia. Every citizen-man, woman, and child-had formal military training and kept up their skills. Best equipment too, and willing to use it. Eager to use it. The Colonel had put Columbia under his nominal protection, but they paid him no tribute, which spoke well of them. And the Colonel.

The melting root-beer Popsicle ran down across Rakkim’s hand. He licked the sweetness from his fingers. They had stopped for gas about an hour after leaving Crews, bought clean clothes and threw away the others. After all the time spent shampooing their hair in the bathroom sink, scrubbing their hands and faces, scraping the grit from under their nails…the stink still clung to them.

He watched the town again, trying to keep his mind occupied. He used to like to quiet his thoughts, stop the words, the anticipation. The time of no thinking, that’s what the Fedayeen called it. One of the secrets to going days without sleep. Weeks, even. Now, though, Rakkim kept his mind active. Vigilant. Not out of concern of what might happen to him and Leo, some external threat. No, he was afraid that if he quieted his thoughts, he’d hear Darwin scuttling around in there.

“Two thousand, three hundred and fifty-seven, five percent margin of error,” Leo repeated.

Rakkim glanced over at him, sucked the last of the Popsicle into his mouth. Made his teeth ache but it tasted good. Leo’s own Popsicle had fallen off the stick, untouched.

“I thought…I thought calculating the dead would help,” said Leo, “but…it didn’t help.”

“I’m sorry, Leo. I didn’t know what they were going to do with you.”

“The satellite antenna was fifty yards across with a five percent slope to a depth of fifteen feet.” Leo’s voice sounded distant. “The bodies…the bodies were stacked about a foot above ground level. Assuming an average height of five feet ten inches, and an average of three months decomposition-”

“You said it was dark. You said you didn’t even know what you were looking at until the white phosphorus grenade went off.”

“The grenade lit things up.”

“Just for an instant. You couldn’t have come up with those calculations.”

“That’s all I needed. I remember things. Shapes and angles, extrapolations and measurements…Archimedes said if he had a lever long enough he could move the earth. Well, I can calculate the exact length of the lever required, and the size and weight of the fulcrum too, and-”

“Who’s Archimedes?”

Leo’s head slumped forward. “I’m just saying, I wish I could forget the things I saw last night.”

“You will. Give it time.”

“No, Rikki…” Leo’s tears fell onto the ground, beside the melted Popsicle. “That’s not the way my mind works.”

Rakkim put his arm around the kid.

“I…I don’t want to tell Leanne about this,” sobbed Leo. “My father says…he says when you love somebody, really love them, you can’t have secrets, but-”

“That’s bum advice. Spider’s plenty smart, but he’s wrong about that.”

“You don’t tell Sarah everything?”

Rikki laughed.

They stood there for a long time, Rakkim patting his back, listening to him blubber. Softhearted, that’s what Crews had called him. Rakkim liked the kid even more for it.

Leo wiped his nose. “Why…why did Crews think you didn’t go inside the church?”

“Because that’s what I told him.”

“Oh. Oh.”

“Man like Crews, you can’t let him think you’re one up on him.” Rakkim finished the Popsicle, tossed the stick away. Columbia City gleamed in the distance. “If it makes you feel any better, I’m going to make sure Crews and his men don’t make any more additions to the body dump. Say what you want about the Colonel, he’s a solid military tactician. If his mountain camp has got any points of vulnerability, it won’t matter. I’m going to have Crews and his men charge straight into the killing zone. Let the Colonel wipe them out. I just need Crews to create enough of a diversion so that you and I can take possession of the weapon. Assuming that Moseby has found it by now.”

“Sarah said…” Leo sniffed. “She said Moseby was very good at his work.”

“He’s a shadow warrior, what do you expect?”

Leo saw him grinning. “I didn’t like you at first, but now…now I think maybe I was wrong.”

“Don’t get carried away. First impressions are usually pretty reliable.”

“Not always. I hated the Belt in the beginning,” said Leo. “Hated the danger and the violence and the ugly accents. Hated the heat and the bugs and the ignorance…then I met Leanne. None of that other stuff matters now.”

“You can tell Moseby all about your honorable intentions when this is over.” Rakkim watched the sun glinting on the solar panels along the Columbia City waterfront. He wished there was time to take Leo there, give him a sense of the best of the Belt. There wasn’t time, though. “Right now, we should get moving.”

“What if Moseby doesn’t want to help us?”

“Moseby’s not working for the Colonel willingly. Gravenholtz took him at gunpoint, left a group of armed men holding his family hostage. You think he’s going to want to put some new, powerful weapon in the hands of people like that?”

“Not that I blame him, but Moseby went renegade. He betrayed his oath and his country. He doesn’t owe the republic anything.”

“John didn’t stay behind in the Belt because he turned against the republic. If he had, I would have killed him when I was supposed to. Moseby was no traitor-he just found someone he loved more than his country.”

Leo nodded. “I can understand that.”

Rakkim looked over at him. The kid was growing up.

“The church…” said Leo. “You said it was real quiet inside. Peaceful.”

“That’s right.” Rakkim smiled. “I couldn’t wait to leave.”

It was almost 3 a.m. when Rakkim stumbled into the mess tent, head down, the collar of his army jacket turned up against the cold, his assault rifle slung over one shoulder. He stamped his feet, used the movement to case the place. Five soldiers sat on benches facing the electric fireplace. A potbellied cook with a dirty apron leaned against the counter reading a magazine, hitchens stitched on the breast of his uniform. Ashes drifted down from the cigarette in the corner of his mouth.

“I need a couple pots of coffee and some cups for the Colonel’s guards,” said Rakkim.

The cook looked up from a well-thumbed Political Insider Quarterly. “What am I, the fucking welcome wagon?”