Robert Ferrigno - Sins of the Assassin

Rakkim plunged his knife into Darwin’s face. Is that unexpected enough? When the water smoothed out, he saw his own face looking back at him. He moved quickly through the water garden, following the path that Sarah and Michael and Leo had taken, brushing over their footprints. They had tried to be careful, but they were hurrying, and Leo kept stepping off the rocks. The sound of the waterfall got louder and louder as he approached, Rakkim circling around, leaving no trace. He eased himself through the thicket that covered the small waterfall, no more than a five-foot drop to the jagged stone below, but room enough underneath…He leaned over the side, the cold water misting his face. “Sarah?”

“Papa!” squealed Michael.

Rakkim quickly slid under the rushing water, managed to stay partially dry as he scrambled onto the mossy ledge under the falls, a tiny grotto they had discovered one day when they were teenagers. A secret spot to tell stories by candlelight, an innocent spot, never a hint of anything inappropriate, but their spot, private.

Michael threw himself into Rakkim’s arms, clutched him.

Rakkim saw Sarah in the twilight, face damp, trying to smile. She was thinking about her mother. He nodded, and Sarah closed her eyes for a moment…crossed herself. He raised an eyebrow at that, and she embraced him, the two of them banging their heads against the rock ceiling. They held each other, their clothes damp, hair dripping as they kissed. He gently bit her lips, and she drove her mouth against him, the two of them sharing their heat, warming themselves with their joy and their relief.

“Nice to see you too,” muttered Leo.

Rakkim saw Leo curled up in the corner, shivering and filthy, hardly any room to move.

“I’m claustrophobic and freezing to death, but what the heck, it’s just Leo, right?”

“I know somebody who would be happy to trade places with you,” snapped Rakkim.

Leo stared at him. “S-sorry.” He glanced at Sarah. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay.” Sarah turned to Rakkim, her arm still around his waist, Michael between them. “Now what do we do?”

“I don’t want to spend the night in here,” said Rakkim. “We can try working our way back to the city. Com links are down, a lot of roads are blocked off, but if we can get back to Spider’s house, we should be safe.” He felt Sarah shiver, rubbed her shoulders.

“The men who broke into our apartment…who were they?” said Sarah.

“Al-Faisal…and a strike team.”

“I thought he was dead,” said Leo.

“He was after you, Leo,” said Rakkim. “Sarah and I were a bonus.”

“Great.” Leo pressed himself deeper into the corner, folding his legs up against his chest. It was getting darker outside, less light filtering through the waterfall, but Leo’s eyes were large and shiny. “Somebody found out about the data cores, didn’t they?”

Rakkim nodded. “The Old One.”

“This is bad,” said Leo, trembling. “This is really, really bad.”

“Rikki and I have faced off with the Old One before,” said Sarah. “We’re still here.”

“Yeah, but look where you are,” said Leo.

Rakkim and Sarah laughed, and Michael laughed too, clapping his hands.

“It’s not funny,” said Leo.

Sarah felt Rakkim’s back. “What is this?”

Rakkim twisted, reached around and felt the small of his back. Felt a small metal button. “Oh…shit.” He peeled it away, held the button in the palm of his hand.

“We’re dead,” moaned Leo, holding his head in his hands. “That’s a model seventeen. Got a thirty-mile range.”

Sarah picked up a rock. “Put it down. I’ll smash it.”

“Bad idea.” Rakkim kissed Sarah. Kissed Michael. “Stay here. No matter what happens, you stay here for as long as it takes. Don’t move until I come for you. Understand?”

Sarah kissed him. “Go get ’em.”

Rakkim slipped out the side of the waterfall, stayed on the rocks. He took off his wet jacket as he started walking, keeping to the hard places, the overgrown spots where he wouldn’t leave a trail that could be backtracked. The Black Robe at the apartment…he had grappled with Rakkim in the first few minutes. He had thought it simple desperation at the time, but now he knew better. The Black Robe had gladly sacrificed himself to plant the tracking button. The three men from the strike team probably had no idea they were being used to sell the trap. Rakkim stuffed his wet jacket deep into a blackberry thicket, trotted over to the edge of the water garden’s dome. He waited over three minutes, fighting back his impatience. The tracking device would indicate the general location of where he had been, how long he had stayed there. He had to make it appear as though he were wandering around the villa, not staying long in any one place. If he had let Sarah break the device, the grotto would have been pinpointed.

For the next ten minutes Rakkim moved around the villa, stepping over piles of burnt furniture, broken masonry, and crushed, empty cans from spiced meat and Jihad Cola. He sat for a few minutes in Redbeard’s old office, remembering standing before the great man, Redbeard often angry at him for some real or imagined offense, sloppily executed prayers or a complaint from one of his teachers. It didn’t matter. Redbeard loved him, they both knew it. He walked over to where one of the roof supports had fallen, got down on his belly. The flooring had buckled, left a gap between the hardwood and the subbasement. Rakkim tossed the tracking button into the narrow opening, heard it clatter. He got up and started running toward the front of the house.

Good timing. Two gray sedans were slowly coming down the winding driveway from the small private road leading to the villa. They didn’t hurry, just drove on steadily. They knew he was trapped. He and Sarah, Michael and Leo. Rakkim smiled, stepped deeper into the shadows. The strike team was trapped too.

He watched as the cars stopped, and six men got out-three ex-Fedayeen, two army Special Forces…and al-Faisal. The military men moved with precision, fully alert, machine pistols at the ready, shock sticks on their belts. Al-Faisal could have been at a picnic, unarmed, dressed casually in loose-fitting pants and a dark-checked shirt. He strolled around the outskirts of the villa, hands in his pockets, picking up pieces of broken tile and bits of burnt wood as though they were treasures. He looked like a man with nothing to fear.

Rakkim retreated deeper into the villa as the men separated-two of them fanned out around the north and south sides of the villa, while three of them accompanied al-Faisal in the direction of Redbeard’s office. The Fedayeen leading the way had a handheld locator keyed to the tracking button.

“I’m not scared,” said Leo.

Sarah pressed her finger against her lips. Michael did the same.

“Rakkim and I…we’ve been through worse,” said Leo.

Sarah watched the waterfall cascade a few inches in front of them, the garden dark and diffuse through the rushing water.

Rakkim decided to kill the tall, blond Fedayeen first. He was part of the strike team working the perimeter, spread out by necessity. Their intention was to form a loose cordon around the site, preventing escape, while the other four worked on the current location of the tracking button. A reasonable plan…but it left the perimeter guards vulnerable to someone who knew every inch of the villa. Besides, al-Faisal’s men were combat warriors, fine enough for overpowering an objective, but marginally effective when stealth was demanded.

Rakkim scooted ahead of the blond Fedayeen, not making a sound as he scrambled over the loose rubble. He flattened himself against an interior wall, listening as the blond Fedayeen approached. He heard the man stop. Operational training called for a sneak-and-peek around such a corner, a quick glance in and out. Rakkim timed it perfectly, stabbed him in the eye as he jerked his head in for a look. He lowered the blond Fedayeen to the ground. Went after the next one on the other side of the villa, taking a shortcut through the old laundry room. As he slipped through the house, he could hear them in Redbeard’s office, banging around.