The Echo of Violence

the first tug at your body.”

Sayed sobbed now. He couldn’t hold back.

“What does it say in the Qur’an about the Day of Judgment?” the Englishman asked. “The body and soul are reunited, is that right? After sharks tear you apart, there won’t be much left, I’m afraid. Now last chance…what’s your answer?”

The image of sharks ripping into his flesh in a feeding frenzy started Sayed talking. Everything he knew or thought he knew came spewing from his mouth, the voice of a stranger. He spared nothing. By the time he got done, he was exhausted.

Sayed had lost all sense of time. His body felt weak and depleted of strength. To curl up and sleep was all he wanted. He was so exhausted, when he felt a second needle in his neck, he didn’t cry out or move. The world became as black as the ocean’s depths.

And as far as he knew, he died—a drowning man.

As he stared down at the unconscious terrorist—slumped in his passenger seat, bound hand and foot—the Deacon yelled an order to Raul Soto, the inside man who had served him well within Jamal Ghazi’s organization.

“Pull him up.”

Using a wench, Raul hoisted Jamal Ghazi back into the helicopter. When the terrified arms dealer got shoved back into his seat with his hood yanked off, his eyes bulged from his head. And after the gag of duct tape was ripped from his mouth, he screamed and ranted in broken English with sweat and spittle streaming off his face.

The man smelled of urine and far worse.

“Now it’s your turn, Jamal,” the Deacon yelled loud enough for the man to hear above the engine noise. “Sayed came to you for help, and you gave it, yet he betrayed you. He didn’t think twice about saving your life. I wouldn’t stand for that if I were you. Tell us what you know. We’ll see that he pays for his treachery. And you’ll be the one to live.”

Pumped full of liquid fear, Jamal Ghazi didn’t need the added motivation of revenge against Sayed. The man was more than willing to talk now. The arms dealer knew the reality of being thrown from a helicopter. The sudden jerk of the tether that kept him alive had served its purpose. It was a reminder of what could still happen if he refused to cooperate. The intel acquired from Ghazi would be gravy. The Deacon had only intended to question Sayed. Anything Ghazi gave them now was an added bonus.

And with Sayed wearing a hood over his head, the terrorist never saw the tether harness attached to Ghazi and never knew the arms dealer had his mouth gagged with duct tape. The Deacon didn’t want Ghazi to tip off Sayed.

His deception had worked. The terrorist had shared plenty for now. Contact names, locations, means of communication, money transfers, and bank accounts. More interrogations were planned on solid ground. His makeshift plan had gone off without a hitch, thanks to the diversion of the Americans and their rescue mission.

“We have a stop to make before we drop off our cargo, Raul. I hope you’ll indulge me.”

Being a man of few words, Raul Soto simply nodded as he took care of their prisoners. The Deacon rather liked that about the man. It certainly allowed him more than enough opportunity to dominate the conversation. And as his pilot, Mrs. Torres, changed course, the Deacon made peace with his God and put in a good word for the American.

It was the least he could do.

CHAPTER 22

Hours later

Back at the harbor in Baracoa, Alexa waited for a call from Garrett. He’d promised word on the tracking- beacon location. She imagined a moving target in a helicopter had made his job tougher, so she had to remain patient—a skill she hadn’t acquired.

In the few hours before dawn, her men used their two boats as a place to care for their wounded. They had first aid and bunks on board to get sack time while they waited. Kate got patched up, and after a quick shower belowdecks, she’d changed into clean clothes that she’d borrowed from Jessie, who was about her size.

Too anxious to sleep, Alexa sat alone in the wheelhouse with the SAT phone close at hand. She stared at the moonlight reflected off the water. And with the undulating motion of the boat, she was lulled into an overload of thoughts centered on Jackson Kinkaid. Her mind flashed back through dozens of memories she didn’t want to forget, yet the man still remained a mystery.

Why did it take losing him to realize how much she…?

“Do you mind company?” A gentle voice intruded on her misery. When she turned, she saw Kate in the cabin doorway.

“No…please, come in.” She waved a welcome.

“Any word on Jackson?” the nun asked.

Alexa shook her head.

“I can’t stop thinking about him,” Kate admitted. “He’s in here…and here.” The nun touched her head and placed a hand over her heart.

“Yeah, I know what you mean, Sister.” Alexa forced a smile. She wasn’t in the mood to talk, but having Kate with her felt as if she had a connection to Kinkaid. “Once he gets under your skin, he’s a hard man to shake. Damn near impossible.”

“Yes. Very true.” The nun sighed. “He’s such a good man. He deserves to be happy.”

Kate had opened the door for her to ask about Kinkaid’s past. Alexa could have tricked the nun into revealing how they’d met by using a ruse she employed in interrogations, where she pretended to know more than she did. But she had too much respect for Kinkaid and Kate to do that. And no matter how much she wanted to know why Kinkaid had been in a mental hospital, she knew that should come from him.

He was a deeply private man. And knowing he had secrets, Alexa had to be careful, too. She didn’t want to reveal too much of his covert life or tell Kate of her suspicions about where he got his money. Even though the nun was a good enough friend for him to risk his life for, Kinkaid wouldn’t have let Kate know everything.

But one question had plagued her from the start. She decided to begin there.

“What happened to him, Sister? He’s not the same man I knew years ago.”

Kate avoided her gaze and stared onto the water, adrift in the past. Alexa got the feeling the nun was considering how to answer her question without violating her confidence with Kinkaid.

“Something broke inside him a long time ago,” the nun began. “And a light simply switched off. You can see a void in his eyes even now. I’ve prayed for him, but his salvation must come from inside him. He’s got to want it for himself. And he’s got to feel like he deserves joy in his life again.”

“This whole hostage ordeal started at your missionary-school fund-raiser, where he was your guest of honor?” Alexa posed her remark more like a question and smiled at the thought of Kinkaid on display at a charitable affair.

“Oh, he hated that part.” The nun chuckled. “But he loves the children. He donates quite a bit of money to my school. And he’s very generous with many others, too. I’ve seen it. His Lost Angel Foundation does God’s work on earth.”

“He’s got a foundation?” Alexa asked.

A drug cartel mercenary with his own charitable foundation? And donating to children’s causes?

Alexa wondered if Kinkaid appeased his guilt over what he did for a living by donating to charity. And maybe he was the lost one. Kate’s lost dark angel. More secrets from the man with many faces. And she had no doubt he’d kept the source of his funds from his good friend Kate.

Before she could ask more, the SAT phone signaled a call coming in, and she picked it up.

“I’m here. Talk to me.”

“We’ve traced Waldo,” Garrett told her.