 
Stone Skin

Taylor Col

Published by Taylor Col at Smashwords

Copyright 2020 Taylor Col

### Table of Contents

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Epilogue

Postscript

Timeline of Ancient Events

Timeline of Modern Events

Author's Note

Other Titles by Taylor Col

Connect with Taylor Col

### Prologue

# Maputo, Mozambique

Detective Nazir Cadre stared into the dead girl's eyes. He wanted to know what she saw right before the end. But all he saw was the reflection of his face in her dark, lifeless pupils.

The girl lay in a king-size bed in the penthouse suite of Olympia Hotel Maputo. It was a luxurious canopy bed, but above the bed the drapes were missing. In their place were dozens of bones, hanging by twine above the dead girl. Blood covered the bed. But the girl had no wounds, or even bruises.

Whoever had done this had a lot of time. And a sick mind.

"Cause of death is drug-induced asphyxiation," said Dinho Loureiro, the forensic pathologist on duty.

"Is the blood hers?" Cadre asked.

Loureiro shook his head. "I doubt the blood is even human. I think it is part of a ritual. None of these bones are human. They are all pig femurs."

Cadre walked around the spacious suite. His eyes were glued to the ground, hoping to find any trace left by the killer.

"I never thought I would be here. I wish it were under better circumstances," Loureiro said.

"This nice hotel room? I could never afford it either," Cadre said.

"Nobody can. It belongs to the President," Loureiro told him.

Cadre spun around. "You are saying the President is the only one who ever stays in this penthouse?"

"Yes, but not often. He can afford to have it reserved because he owns the hotel chain too. It is common knowledge."

"I am sorry I do not engage in hero worship like the rest of the country," Cadre said, "He is just a politician; no need for me to know his favorite brand of toothpaste."

Cadre clicked his teeth and continued to scan the penthouse, his gaze fixed on the floor. There were no footprints or trails of blood anywhere in sight. It seemed like the blood-soaked and bone-adorned bed had been teleported into the pristine room. Then Cadre spotted one irregularity.

"You said the cause of death was drug-induced asphyxiation?" Cadre said to Loureiro.

Cadre bent down and used forceps to pick something off the ground. He turned and showed it to Loureiro. It was a white, oval pill.

"Tell me what is printed on the pill and I will look it up," Loureiro said.

"The number 77." Cadre told him.

Cadre walked through an open set of double doors onto a balcony. There he saw the sliced remnants of the canopy drapes, fashioned into rope and tied to the railing. Cadre looked over the edge to see the makeshift rope dangling down to another balcony two stories below. The curtains were soaked in blood.

Cadre took out his work phone and called his boss. "We need to get access to the room with the balcony two stories below this one. The killer climbed down to it from the penthouse suite balcony."

He received a curt reply. "We will get the hotel to send someone your way."

Cadre put the phone away and walked back inside from the balcony.

"I looked up that pill," Loureiro said.

"What is it?"

"I do not think it is the drug that killed the victim," Loureiro told him, "It is a pill for osteoporosis."

"How old do you think she is?" Cadre asked.

"Since you could not find any identification, I would have to estimate she is in her late twenties," Loureiro said, "About three decades too young for osteoporosis."

"The pill could have been left by someone else. I found a makeshift rope leading from this balcony down to the room two stories below."

"Osteoporosis is a fickle disease, my detective friend. It makes it very difficult to perform daily tasks, let alone climb a rope."

Loureiro and Cadre finished their work in the penthouse. They met a hotel employee in the elevator lobby and took the elevator to the floor two stories below.

"This private elevator is the only way up to the penthouse floor, and you need special clearance from the security room in the lobby for the doors to open," the hotel employee told them.

"So how did they get the pig blood and bones up there?" Loureiro said.

Cadre gave Loureiro a sideways glance. "With all due respect, Loureiro, leave the detective work to me."

Loureiro and the hotel employee fell silent.

The elevator doors opened and they walked out into a hallway. Loureiro and Cadre stopped outside the elevator and let the hotel employee walk ahead.

"I know what you are thinking, Cadre. Without knowing the President personally, there is no way the victim or the killer could have broken into the President's room at all. You think the President is a suspect," Loureiro said.

"I am not ruling him out," Cadre replied.

They reached the door to the room directly below the penthouse suite balcony. The hotel employee was waiting for them. The employee unlocked the door then stepped aside.

The room was completely empty. It had been recently cleaned and still smelled of bleach.

"Was anybody checked into this room tonight?" Cadre asked the hotel employee.

"No sir," the employee replied, "This floor is reserved for foreign diplomats and other important guests of the President. But, as you know, he is in the north campaigning for reelection."

Cadre took several photographs of the empty room while Loureiro waited outside. When Cadre was finished, they left the hotel together.

"The President has an alibi," Loureiro said, "But you still want to try to pin this on him because you do not like him."

Cadre did not reply until they were in the police van, driving away from the hotel.

"For the record, you are correct to assume I do not like him. But I also do not think he is the type to perform ritualistic murders in his personal penthouse suite. That means whoever killed that girl is either trying to set him up, or trying to send him a message. Either way, this has political implications, and we have to handle this very carefully. And that means you need to stick to your pathologist work...

"...and leave the detective work to me."

### Chapter 1

# Approximately 250 kilometers southwest of Addis Ababa, Ethiopia

Elena Ruiz removed her headband and dipped it into the cool, fresh water. She reapplied the headband and experienced a brief feeling of comfort before the dry heat enveloped her body once again.

Elena stared with pride at the water bubbling up through the hole in the ground. All around her, local villagers cheered. Elena stepped aside to let them fill up their bowls with fresh water from the newly dug well.

Elena started packing up the lightweight boring equipment. The portable system was her design, which she developed at the University of Lima. The aluminum hand-turned screw, operated by two people, could drill deep through clay or rock, opening access to previously unreachable aquifers. A specialized treadle pump, designed by Elena and assembled by community members with local materials, allowed people to draw water up from the well using only the power of their feet. Elena travelled the world implementing her water supply system, funded by a philanthropic organization known as Water4All.

Elena disassembled the aluminum screw as the community members took turns using the treadle pump and filling up their basins with clean water. She strapped down the last of the equipment to her hiking backpack and squatted down to slip the straps over her shoulders and around her waist. She stood up slowly, taking a moment to balance the weight on her back before moving forward. Then she started the trek back to her tent on the outskirts of the remote village.

Once she arrived at her tent, she set the pack down and dove onto her sleeping mat. She closed her eyes and almost got to sleep when she heard footsteps crunching in the sand outside her tent.

A man dressed in business attire opened the flap of her tent and leaned in to address her. The man was holding a tablet with a shockproof, waterproof case.

"Ms. Ruiz," he said, "You have an urgent video call from your father."

The man gave her the tablet. On the screen was the image of her father sitting in his posh office.

" _Hola mija_ ," he smiled, "You are saving the world so fast it was hard to track you down."

"What do you want?" Elena replied coldly.

"I need your help," her father told her, "I have an urgent matter to attend to here in Peru, so I need you to act as my representative in Africa."

"I do not want anything to do with your company," Elena said in disgust, "You destroy the environment and ruin lives."

"Some lives have to be ruined so others can be saved," her father said with a smug grin, "Who do you think is the anonymous donor who provides ninety percent of the funding for Water4All?"

"We do not need your funding," Elena fumed, "I have done enough work to apply for grants that will fund me for years to come."

"Yes, but in all your kindheartedness you decided not to patent your design," her father said, "You hoped it would make it easier for others to replicate it. But now I control the patent. If you refuse to do this for me, your water-supplying technology will not be used by anyone, including you, for another seventy-five years."

"You bastard," Elena cursed, "What do you need me to do?"

"Take this tablet to Mozambique. There you will meet with President Faustino. I will discuss a business deal with him over video and you will be my personal liaison."

"How soon?" Elena asked.

"The man who delivered you the tablet is my associate Mohamed Malik. He has a private jet waiting for you in Addis Ababa. It leaves tonight."

Elena looked up at Malik. He smiled graciously back.

"I need to teach the community here how to maintain the well," Elena said.

"They will have to figure it out themselves," her father said.

Gustavo Ruiz terminated the call.

Malik took a step back to give her room as Elena crawled out of the tent and got to her feet. Elena started taking the tent down and rolling it up. Malik offered no assistance.

"I hate that man," she said to herself.

"It is not easy to negotiate with him," Malik said, "You did better than most."

### Chapter 2

# Praia do Wimbe, Mozambique

Devlin Pascoal graced his hand over the Beretta .32 caliber pistol on his hip. It had been issued to him a week earlier when he was promoted from a captain in the army to a member of the Presidential Elite Guard. He had yet to shoot the pistol, much less take it out of its holster.

Devlin was on duty as President Emidio Faustino lounged on an isolated beach, sipping a bottle of champagne and watching the waves rush up the shore. Seven women in bikinis, who all looked half his age, sat next to him. Faustino tossed an empty champagne bottle aside and waved his hand in the air to signal for another one.

Devlin turned to another member of the Elite Guard stationed next to him. The man, like Devlin, had not seen combat for years. The days of war and terror had passed.

The man was another ex-army captain who went by the single name Riyadh. Riyadh was born overseas, but he was highly educated and had a role in the negotiations that ended the violence between government forces and loyalists to former President Campos after President Faustino's election. When he retired from the army, he was immediately tapped by the President for the Elite Guard.

Riyadh turned around and whistled at the butler behind the beachside bar. The aging bartender looked up at him and put down the glass he was polishing.

"Another bottle for the President," Riyadh ordered the butler.

The bartender nodded and reached under the bar. But instead of taking out a bottle of champagne, he pulled out an AK-47 assault rifle.

"Gun!" Riyadh yelled before diving to the ground.

The bartender opened fire on the President and his entourage. While Riyadh was prone on the ground, Devlin stepped between the butler and President Faustino to shield him from the incoming fire.

The kickback from the heavy assault rifle proved too much for the old bartender to handle, and most of the rounds sailed harmlessly over Devlin's head. Devlin drew the Beretta from its holster and returned fire at the bartender. He narrowly missed the bartender, the pistol rounds instead shattering the glass bottles of liquor behind him.

Devlin heard the old man scream in pain and fall to the ground. Riyadh got to his feet with his pistol drawn and followed Devlin up the beach toward the bar. Devlin waved him off.

"Secure the VIP," Devlin ordered.

Riyadh turned and ran back down the beach to protect Faustino and his female companions. Devlin slowly advanced up the beach to the bar. As he got closer, he listened for any indication that the bartender was loading another magazine or racking a round into the chamber of his rifle. But all Devlin could hear was faint, labored breathing.

Devlin jumped over the bar to find the old bartender lying on the ground, covered in blood. He was bleeding profusely and trembling from the shock of blood loss. The flying glass shards from the bottles Devlin shot had sliced through his aging skin in several places. Devlin knew from his army medic training that older people had less coagulants in their blood, putting them at a higher risk of bleeding to death.

The old man looked up at Devlin with fear in his eyes. Devlin holstered his pistol and kicked the bartender's rifle out of reach. Then he dropped to his knees and tore the sleeves off the man's shirt to make a tourniquet. But before he was able to tie the makeshift tourniquet in place, another barrage of gunfire raked the beach.

Devlin peeked over the bar to see two small motorboats speeding towards the shore. Men on the bows of both boats were shooting in the direction of the President as they got closer. Riyadh, flanked by the rest of the Elite Guard, shot back.

There were three more members to the Elite Guard. The longest-tenured was Ajay Patel, the son of Indian immigrants who was a pilot in the Navy for years. Mozambique's military could only afford to have a small fleet of fighter jets, which meant they did not have many fighter jet pilots. Ajay was considered by his peers as the best of them, and when the civil war ended, he was promoted to supervise the entire pilot training curriculum. After his successor was groomed, he retired and joined the Elite Guard.

Another civil war veteran in the Elite Guard was Cleyton Beete. He was a former rebel commander, and after the war ended, he switched sides and joined the national military to helped integrate former rebel soldiers into the military they had spent years fighting. Beete spent most of the civil war leading rebel operations in Gorongosa National Park. Later, after he left the national military, he became a park ranger tasked with spearheading the fight against foreign elephant poachers. His killer instinct, along with his extensive knowledge of the terrain, led poachers to avoid Gorongosa National Park after several 'unsolved disappearances'.

The outlier in the Elite Guard was Ikbal Khalaf, a foreign civilian whose father had business connections with President Faustino. Devlin was not sure why President Faustino trusted his own safety to someone with no military experience and who had spent little time in Mozambique. However, through his short time with the Elite Guard, Ikbal had yet to prove a liability. His lack of experience had not hindered them, since the President's life had not been threatened in years.

Until now.

Devlin rushed down to the beach to help them suppress the threat of the gunmen on motorboats. Together, the Elite Guard formed a wall in front of the Faustino and the women. The accuracy of the boat gunfire was compromised as the boats bounced over the waves. From the Elite Guard's stationary position, they were able to accurately return fire, hitting the gunmen on the bows of both boats without sustaining any wounds.

With the gunmen taken care of, the security force directed their fire on the drivers of the two boats. Ajay, Cleyton and Riyadh fired at one of the boats while Devlin and Ikbal fired at the other one. In order to operate the outboard motors, the drivers were sitting near the stern and lower in the hull of the boats, which made them more difficult to hit than the gunmen on the bow.

The bow of the left boat dipped into the trough of a wave, leaving the driver exposed. Cleyton placed a pistol round directly into the driver's chest and the boat swerved sideways and overturned in the surf.

The other boat kept coming despite Devlin and Ikbal's best efforts to stop its driver. The boat was heading directly at them, with no sign of slowing down. In seconds it would crash onto the beach and plow through them unless it was stopped.

Devlin felt a round rush past his head and slam into the boat motor. The boat abruptly slowed, but its momentum carried it to the shore, where it slowly slid to a stop in the sand. The flustered driver had no chance to avoid the three rounds that Devlin fired at him from close range. Two in the torso, one in the head, just like he had been trained.

Devlin noticed black smoke emanating from a large hole in the boat's motor. He could tell the bullet that made the hole was larger than the .32 caliber rounds that everyone in the security detail was shooting.

"Sir, are you okay?" Riyadh asked Faustino.

Faustino was still in his beach chair. The women around him did not appear to be frightened by the shootout that had just happened around them. Faustino held up the empty champagne bottle.

"I am okay," Faustino grinned, seemingly unphased by the attempt on his life. "But I could be better. I am still waiting on the champagne."

### Chapter 3

# Pemba, Mozambique

Devlin and Ajay stood outside the door to the president's bedroom. They stood silent during their shift as sounds of headboards creaking and pleasured moans came from inside the room. At midnight, Riyadh showed up alone to take the next shift.

As Ajay and Devlin walked down the hall to their quarters, Ajay finally spoke up.

"There is nothing I would not give to be in that room with those girls. The tall one, Aida, I know she likes me. She was drunk earlier and was coming on to me. In a physical way."

Devlin shook his head. "That is what you are thinking about right now? After we spent the day getting shot at?"

Ajay smiled. "Men live for two things: to reproduce and to kill. I had my share of killing for today. My mind has moved on."

"You are a combat veteran. I know you are thinking about what happened."

Ajay stopped walking and faced Devlin.

"You are right. You win. I will tell you what I think. I think the attack today was well-coordinated. The bartender was a distraction so they could storm the beach from sea."

"Do you think they were ex-military?" Devlin asked.

"The official report is that they were terrorists from a cell in Tanzania. But they must have had help to know the President's itinerary and plan that attack," Ajay said.

"Emidio Faustino has the highest approval rating of any world leader, democratic or autocratic. His only enemies are abroad, but we must remain vigilant," Devlin recited proudly.

"They made me memorize that mantra too when I joined the Elite Guard a few months ago. But I think there is more going on here," Ajay responded.

"You just joined a few months ago?" Devlin asked, "But I thought you were the one who has been protecting the President the longest?"

"That is correct. Faustino cleaned house two months ago. Every one of us is new to the Guard," Ajay informed him.

They reached the door to their quarters and opened it. Inside, the other bodyguards were not asleep, as Devlin would have expected. Instead, Cleyton and Ikbal were standing side by side, facing President Faustino.

"Close the door," Faustino said.

Devlin did what he was told and closed the door behind him.

"I told the ladies to have some fun without me. And to make it especially loud so that I could sneak out," Faustino explained.

"With all due respect, sir, it is a security risk for you to leave your room without our knowledge," Ajay pointed out.

"There is a bigger risk to my security at the moment," Faustino said, "Riyadh."

"What do you mean?" Ajay asked him.

"When the first shots were fired today, Riyadh dove to the ground instead of stepping in front of me as a shield," Faustino said, "If that old man's aim were better, I would be dead."

"What do you want us to do, Sir?" Devlin asked.

"Eliminate Riyadh," Faustino ordered.

Ajay and Devlin turned to execute the order when Faustino stopped them.

"Not you. The others are rested. You will stay with me."

Ajay and Devlin stepped aside as Cleyton and Ikbal exited the quarters in single file. Cleyton was solemn, his face portraying the concern he had with taking out one of his own. He was affected not only by the morality of the task, but the implication that he could be next if he failed to perform up to the President's standards.

Ikbal, however, had an almost childish excitement in his eyes. As he passed by, Devlin could see the corners of Ikbal's mouth were turned slightly upward. It was almost imperceptible, but Devlin could tell the bastard was grinning.

Ikbal was the last one out and closed the door behind him. Ajay and Delvin watched as Faustino reclined on one of their tiny bunks.

"Tomorrow we are retreating to Calypso Island," Faustino told them, "I have issued martial law in the capital and deployed troops to the northern border to search and destroy the terrorist threat. The safest place for me at this time is on my heavily fortified private island."

"I believe that there may be a domestic threat as well," Ajay said, "The terrorists must have had support from military intelligence."

Faustino laughed. "When I served in Afghanistan, I saw every type of terrorist. There were the zealots, mostly children, who attacked civilians. The civilians being attacked were usually of a different ethnic or religious group than the terrorists. These were the most common attacks. They were isolated and formulaic. The only problem for the terrorists was finding more children to corrupt.

"Then there were the attacks on my unit and the Afghan police we were supervising. These attacks were highly coordinated and took months to plan. Each one featured a unique and creative way to exploit a gap in our security. It was like a sword duel; each time we countered one of their attacks we exposed a different part of our defense.

"You underestimate the ingenuity of terrorists, Ajay. And you underestimate the complete control I have over the Mozambique military. When I was elected President, I restructured everything. I had to, since military forces were ordered by former President Campos to kill me during the election. _Both of you_ were serving in the military at that time. If the order had been passed down to you, would you have killed me?"

Ajay balked at the question. Faustino stared directly at him, never breaking eye contact.

"Yes," Ajay answered, after a long pause.

"And Devlin," Faustino said, "What about you?"

"Yes," Devlin responded without hesitation.

Cleyton and Ikbal silently returned to the Elite Guard quarters. Faustino stood up and addressed the entire security detail.

"All of you answered my question correctly. That is why you are still alive. You will obey orders without questioning and fulfill your duty no matter the cost. Unfortunately, Riyadh could not."

Faustino walked out of the quarters, flanked by Cleyton and Ikbal. The President stopped and turned around right after he passed through the doorway.

"We leave for Calypso Island at dawn."

### Chapter 4

# Maputo, Mozambique

Nazir Cadre stood at his kitchen counter, reading a newspaper. It was nearly midnight, but he could not sleep. He hoped that through reading he could soothe his mind enough to finally get some rest. So far, it was not working.

The front page was full of commentary on the assassination attempt on the President. Although the attack happened in the north, there was an increased military presence and strict curfew in Maputo. Detective Cadre could not remember hearing so many military vehicles moving through the streets of the capital since the 2013 election skirmishes between the military of former President Campos and private military contractors employed by President Faustino. There was a consensus in the newspaper articles that now, after the 2019 assassination attempt, harder times were ahead for Mozambicans.

There was a hard rap on Cadre's front door. He was dreading this moment, which was part of the reason he could not sleep. He knew he had a target on his back ever since he took the case of the murder in the president's penthouse two months earlier. It was only a matter of time before the president's soldiers tried to silence him or the president's enemies tried to use him. Either option led to his demise.

Cadre cracked the door open and was greeted by Dinho Loureiro's gap-toothed grin.

"I know you missed me, detective," Loureiro said.

Cadre let Loureiro into his apartment. Cadre poured two cups of coffee and set them on the kitchen counter.

"The pills belonged to her," Loureiro said.

"What?" Cadre asked.

"The dead girl. The osteoporosis pill you found. She was taking them."

"Is that why you are at my house in the middle of the night? To tell me this?" Cadre asked.

"I thought you would want to know," Loureiro replied.

"So after we signed a nondisclosure agreement, after we handed the case over to the president's people two months ago, you kept investigating? Do you actually want to lose your job?"

"I want to know the truth about what happened to that girl. I mean, that woman," Loureiro said, "She is actually around 70 years old."

"How?" Cadre asked.

"I took a lot of blood samples, and some of them I accidentally misplaced before we handed all our evidence over to the government agents. When I recently found the missing samples, I decided to run some tests myself."

Cadre ran his hand down the side of his face.

"So our dead girl is in reality an older woman with osteoporosis. What do you want me to do about it?"

"I see I have your attention, Detective," the pathologist said with a wry smile, "Now I can share some more of my findings with you. Recently, I have had several dinners at the restaurant in Olympia Hotel. Here are my leftovers."

Loureiro tossed a paper bag on the counter. Cadre opened the bag and looked inside.

"Looks like you had the pork roast. Did not leave me much at all. Just bones and...." Cadre's voice trailed off and his eyes widened.

Loureiro smiled. "Bones and twine."

"The pig blood and the bones at the crime scene all came from the hotel kitchen. Very good, Loureiro. We know _where_ the blood and bones came from, but now we need to know _why_ they were there. What was the significance of the ritual? Why did the killer take the time to hang bones above the bed?" Cadre's cadence got faster as he talked.

Loureiro's smile widened. "I knew you were still obsessing over the case like I was. The murder in the president's penthouse has been the only thing on my mind. Speaking of the president, it turns out he actually does not have an alibi. On the day of the murder, he returned to Maputo from his campaign tour for what the press calls 'personal reasons'. The following day he left the capital and resumed his campaign."

"That makes the President of Mozambique suspect number one," Cadre said emphatically.

Loureiro turned to leave. He left his coffee untouched.

"Where are you going?" Cadre asked.

"Olympia Hotel," Loureiro said matter-of-factly, "Are you coming?"

"There is political uneasiness and a curfew in effect. Have you seen the military vehicles in the streets? If we get caught going to the president's hotel to illegally investigate a murder we think he did, what do you think they will do to us?"

Loureiro opened the door. "Then we have to be careful not to get caught. Somewhere in that hotel kitchen is someone who unwittingly aided a murder. The person who brought the room service cart to the room. They are the key witness who can tell us who was staying in the room with the victim."

"Wait," Cadre said.

Loureiro stopped halfway out the door.

"The hotel staff did not aid the murderer unwittingly. A room service meal order as strange as raw pig blood and bones would be questioned even if coming from the president, because it violates health codes. If President Faustino had ordered it, he would have risked getting his entire hotel shut down. It is my opinion that someone _knowingly_ smuggled the bones, blood and twine in the room after salvaging the items from the kitchen waste.

"Also, the hotel room two stories below the penthouse was freshly cleaned. The odor of bleach was still present. Room service is not scheduled to clean rooms in the middle of the night. So somebody on the hotel payroll took cleaning supplies from one of the hotel's locked maintenance closets to that room and covered up the killer's tracks."

Loureiro turned and started walking down the steps from Cadre's apartment.

"Then we need to get to the hotel as soon as we can!" Loureiro said excitedly, "The killer or their accomplice might be working there now!"

Cadre forcefully grabbed Loureiro by the shoulder and pulled him back inside.

"You are going about this all wrong. We have more than enough information from the crime scene. We need to know more about the victim. We should leave the capital and follow the only lead we have on her."

"Which is...?"

Cadre sighed. "Come on, you are supposed to be the pathologist. The victim was in her seventies but the body we found at the crime scene looks like it belongs to a woman in her twenties. We have to go to the region that has the highest life expectancy in Mozambique."

"Would that not be here, in the largest city? Where we have the best access to health care?" Loureiro asked.

"Until recently, that was thought to be the case. Until the medical world discovered the Lost Forest of Mount Mabu."

### Chapter 5

# Calypso Island, 500 miles off the coast of Mozambique

Elena Ruiz, accompanied by Mohamed Malik, looked down at Calypso Island from their seats in an Augusta Westland AW139 luxury helicopter. The helicopter, along with the Gulfstream G550 private jet that took her from Ankara to a military airfield in northern Mozambique, were owned by President Emidio Faustino.

The island below them was lush, green jungle. There were some gaps in the trees where white rocky outcrops were exposed. The white ridges extended in straight lines before disappearing into the jungle. From their perspective in the helicopter, the ridges looked like pale skin sticking out from under a green dress.

At the southern tip of the island was a huge mansion. There was a helipad on the roof of the mansion and an enormous yacht was docked in the ocean next to it. As the helicopter descended toward the helipad, Elena was able to see the sheer size of the mansion. It was as large as a small city.

The helicopter landed and a man walked up to it to open the bay door next to Elena. The man was tall, and he had to duck low to avoid the spinning helicopter rotors.

With considerable strength he threw the heavy door open with one hand. In his other massive hand, he held a Heckler & Koch UMP45 submachine gun like it was a toy. The gun was pointed at the ground, but Elena was still unnerved by the sight of a gun out of its holster so close to her.

"Welcome, Signora Ruiz," the man greeted her, "I am Octavius, head of island security."

Octavius lent a hand to Elena to help her out of the chopper. He then turned and led her across the helipad to a stone stairway that led down to a vast courtyard. Behind them, Malik clumsily jumped down from the helicopter and stumbled when he hit the ground. He then hurried after them, clutching the tablet to his chest.

Elena followed Octavius across the courtyard. The courtyard appeared to be built entirely from the same white stone Elena had seen in the mountains from above. There were elegant statues scattered throughout the extensive courtyard. The statues were all made of the same white stone, and all depicted men wielding guns. The modern weapons seemed out of place in the hands of men with stone skin.

It took them several minutes to cross the immense courtyard. At the end was a wide stone staircase that got narrower as it went down. At the bottom of the staircase was a door that led inside the mansion.

Inside the mansion, they walked down several high-ceilinged hallways before they arrived at a set of large mahogany doors. Standing outside the door were two stocky men who were nearly as tall as Octavius. Slung over their shoulders were submachine guns identical to the one Octavius still held.

The mahogany doors opened inward. Beyond the doors was a large office, with bookcase-lined walls and plush seating in the center. On the far side of the office was President Emidio Faustino, sitting behind a large mahogany desk.

"Welcome to Calypso!" Faustino said.

"We were hoping to meet you in Maputo. The trip to your island getaway made our journey quite longer," Malik coldly replied.

"I apologize for the inconvenience, Signor Malik," Faustino warmly replied, "Security issues forced me to do business with you here instead."

Malik set the tablet up on Faustino's desk so that the screen was facing the President. He powered on the tablet and Gustavo Ruiz's face appeared on the screen.

"Emidio! It is great to see you!" Ruiz boomed.

"It has been a long time," Faustino replied.

"I apologize that I was unable to travel to meet with you personally," Ruiz said, "But in my stead I have sent my trusted associate Mohamed Malik and my own daughter, Elena."

"It is a pleasure to meet you," Faustino said directly to Elena. Then he returned his attention to Gustavo Ruiz on the tablet.

"Gustavo, my friend, one would think that a transaction of this magnitude would be your first priority. I have many other corporations interested in my country's offshore drilling rights. If it were anyone else but you, I would have rejected this meeting entirely."

"Working together was much simpler back when we were studying at University," Gustavo Ruiz conceded, "But now I am spread too thin. Our CEO is more interested in philanthropy now than running the company, so I have been shouldering more of his responsibilities in addition to my own."

"Then I will not keep you any longer, old friend. I prefer to make deals in person, especially one as important as this. I want to award the drilling rights to your company, but I am offended you chose to stay in Peru.

"Here is what happens next. First, your associate will take this tablet and leave. I will then personally continue the negotiations with your daughter."

Octavius, still palming the submachine gun, appeared behind Malik. Malik turned and looked at him, flustered. Then he grabbed the tablet and left the room, escorted by Octavius. Elena watched them leave. The doors remained open.

Elena was now alone in the office with Faustino. He leaned back in his plush leather chair and put his feet up on his desk.

"Wow, it sure is exhausting to talk with your father," Faustino sighed.

"You are probably the first person who told him 'no' and got away with it," Elena wryly observed.

"I think we should take a break and resume negotiations later," Faustino suggested, "Would you like some lunch?"

After the long trip from Ethiopia, Elena was starving.

### Chapter 6

# Third story of Faustino's mansion, Calypso Island

The Presidential Elite Guard personnel relaxed in one of the many courtyards in the Calypso mansion. Ikbal and Ajay sat in plush chairs as they cleaned their pistols. Devlin and Cleyton stood out of earshot of the others, at the edge of the courtyard, facing a balcony that overlooked the rest of the island.

Dense jungle extended as far as the eye could see, punctuated occasionally by white stone outcrops that jutted out like shards of broken bones puncturing green skin. Devlin's focus was broken when Octavius, flanked by two more of the Calypso security personnel, led Faustino and a young Latina woman across the courtyard and into a different section of the mansion.

"They are all killers," Cleyton said, "I can tell by their eyes. These men all have put bodies in the ground."

Devlin stared at the tall head of security as he and the others disappeared into a hallway.

"They look at us like we are nothing, and we are supposed to be the Elite Guard," Cleyton continued.

"So whoever these killers are, they work for our President at his getaway resort," Devlin said, "Doing our job for us."

"It is odd that at a time when the President's life is seriously threatened, he tells us to relax and let someone else handle security," Cleyton concurred.

"But that is not what worries me most," Cleyton said as he lowered his voice and snuck a quick glance behind him.

"Ikbal," Devlin said, "He was too eager to kill Riyadh."

"Do you want to know how he did it?" Cleyton asked rhetorically, "He attacked Riyadh from the front. He let Riyadh see him coming. Riyadh drew his pistol and Ikbal disarmed him. Then he put Riyadh in a chokehold and that was the end of it. In total, it took ten seconds. And I did nothing but watch."

"Ikbal was a civilian before he joined the Elite Guard. Riyadh was an Army captain with years of training," Devlin said.

"Ikbal is not who he says he is," Cleyton stated.

There was a long pause. Wisps of fog rolled over the canopy of the forest ahead of them.

"There was someone else at the beach," Devlin finally added, "They fired a high-caliber round from behind us to take out the second boat's motor."

"Maybe the attack on the beach was a test. The terrorists were hired to see how we would respond. These killers were hiding, watching us to see how we performed. They are his true bodyguards, and we are merely auditioning," Cleyton postulated.

"We are on this island because of that attack. This is supposed to be his safe haven when his life is threatened," Devlin said.

"Then we are still being tested," Cleyton said, "And Ikbal cannot be trusted."

Devlin turned back around. Ajay and Ikbal were nowhere in sight.

"Something is off," Devlin said under his breath.

Cleyton drew his pistol. Devlin did the same. They were too exposed in the open courtyard. Devlin motioned toward the hallway that the Latina woman and the island security guard were last seen entering.

They sprinted across the courtyard with their heads down. Devlin braced for the crack of a rifle, expecting bullets zipping by his head. But no shots were fired.

They reached the hallway and descended a wide staircase. They could hear voices ahead. Devlin hugged one of the walls to reduce his profile, making him a harder target for someone who might want to take a shot at him. Cleyton did the same.

They reached a closed door. They could hear multiple voices on the other side. Devlin and Cleyton stacked up next to the door. Cleyton stood behind Devlin and put one hand on Devlin's shoulder. With his pistol in one hand, Devlin reached for the doorknob and slowly opened the door.

On the other side of the door was a massive atrium. In the middle was an Olympic pool. Ikbal and Ajay were in the pool, along with several of the women that had been with Faustino when the terrorists attacked on the beach. Floating in the water were tables piled high with steamed shellfish and roasted vegetables.

Ajay cracked open a crab shell and started devouring the meat inside. Ikbal was midway through removing the shell from a prawn when he noticed Devlin and Cleyton.

"Easy with the guns," Ikbal joked, "We made sure to save you some food."

The women in the pool laughed and smirked at Devlin and Cleyton. With his adrenaline still pumping, Devlin holstered his pistol.

"It seems we misjudged the situation," Devlin said.

"Something is still off," Cleyton whispered as he reluctantly holstered his own pistol.

"What are you waiting for?" Ajay yelled as crab juices flowed down his chin, "The food is getting cold!"

The laughter of the women echoed through the atrium. The sound bounced off the glass overhead, reflected back into Devlin's ears from a new direction every few seconds. He clutched his face as he was suddenly overcome with a head-splitting migraine. His vision went white and all he could perceive was intense, distorted laughter.

### Chapter 7

# Dining hall, second story of Faustino's mansion, Calypso Island

Elena coughed. The spices on the shrimp irritated her mouth and throat. She grabbed a glass of water and took a few gulps to ease the burning.

"I must apologize," Faustino said from the other end of the long dining table, "I should have told the chef to use less spice for your dish."

"I was not expecting that," Elena gasped before drinking more water.

Faustino waved his hand in the air and one of the island guards stepped forward to remove Elena's plate. Out of courtesy, Faustino stopped eating while Elena waited for a new plate of food to be brought to the table.

"I do not want to negotiate with you," Elena said, "I do not care about my father's business. I cut him out of my life years ago so I could dedicate myself to humanitarian work."

"I know all of this," Faustino replied, "I still have my connections in the intelligence community. They are the reason I was able to anticipate the first attempt on my life and mobilize security forces during the election against President Campos."

"Then could you please let me get back to Ethiopia to resume my work?" Elena requested.

"Unfortunately, the current circumstances do not allow it," Faustino lamented, "I have no choice but to cut off all travel to and from this island. I am usually in control of any situation when my life is in danger, but this time it is different. My intelligence contacts cannot tell me who is trying to assassinate me or why. All I know is that they are organized and well-equipped."

"You have an entire military at your disposal," Elena said, "Surely you can arrange for some way to securely get me off this island."

Faustino pushed his chair away from the table and stood up. "While we are waiting on your food, would you like to take a walk?"

Elena stood up and followed him out of the dining hall. They walked to an open elevator and entered. The elevator descended for many floors before it reached its destination. Elena watched the buttons on the wall light up as they passed each floor. They had started at floor 8, and when button 1 lit up, the doors opened. Elena noticed there was another button beneath it labeled 'LAB'.

They exited the elevator and walked into a dimly lit hallway. On either side of the hallway were cells with barred doors. The entire first floor was a secret prison below the President's mansion.

All of the cells they passed were empty and pristinely clean. They kept walking until they finally reached a cell that did have an occupant.

Mohamed Malik hung from the ceiling by his own tie. His neck was snapped, his body limp. He swayed slightly, his feet dangling a few centimeters above the floor.

"Your father's associate was an assassin. You were the Trojan horse that he used to get past my defenses. Luckily, Octavius was able to stop him just in time."

Faustino opened the door to the cell and entered. He turned to Elena, who remained in the doorway, fixated on the lifeless eyes of the man who she had seen alive less than an hour earlier.

Faustino returned from the cell holding Malik's tablet, the one he used for the video meeting between Faustino and Gustavo Ruiz.

"There was a secret compartment in the bulky case of the tablet you brought here. Before the meeting, Malik opened it and took out a small remote explosive. During the meeting, while I was distracted by your father, he placed the device under my desk. But before he could get away, Octavius took the detonator from him.

"Octavius is the leader of a strike force from Stratos Defense that I retain on my payroll at all times, but I have only activated them once before. In 2013, was enormously popular as a presidential candidate due to my humanitarian work. Like you, I dedicated my life to building infrastructure and providing clean water for people in need. When President Campos realized that I would win the 2013 election, he ordered his military to kill me. Octavius and his men were effective against the Mozambique military's most elite unit at the time, with zero casualties and eighteen kills, all in a choke point in a Maputo neighborhood where the Stratos operatives were at a distinct combat disadvantage. That same day, President Campos fled the country out of fear that I would retaliate against him."

"I had no idea," Elena said with fear in her voice, eyes still locked on Malik's hanging corpse. "That whoever is trying to kill you was using me."

"I might trust you," Faustino replied, "But I do not believe your father is so innocent."

"You are not keeping me here to negotiate at all," Elena realized, "You are holding me hostage."

"I do not want to hurt you," Faustino said as he handed Elena the tablet, "But you will never leave this island unless your father tells me everything he knows about his 'associate' the assassin."

Faustino grabbed Elena and shoved her into the jail cell with Malik's hanging body. He slammed the door shut. Then he tossed the tablet at her through the bars.

"Call him. What you say will determine if you leave this cage or die in it."

### Chapter 8

# Maputo, Mozambique

Minori Sabuko sat perched atop a rooftop hidden behind a billboard. Her Dragunov sniper rifle sat propped up next to her. The semiautomatic marksman rifle was modified with an 8x zoom mounted scope and an extended magazine. Sabuko would rather have been staring through the thermal scope of the custom SR4E marksman rifle that accompanied her on numerous deployments in North Africa and the Middle East. She preferred missions where she could kill from a distance and disappear into the night. But this time, in broad daylight, she knew she had to get her hands dirty.

On this operation, she was assigned the Dragunov rifle in case she had to leave it behind. It was the same rifle the Mozambican military snipers used, so if investigators found the gun, they would not suspect they were attacked by a private military contractor. Her employer, Stratos Defense, LLC, did not like to leave loose ends.

Sabuko detached the 8x zoom scope from the rifle and used it to survey the scene below. Armed soldiers patrolled the streets. Armored vehicles rolled past abandoned civilian vehicles. Martial law was still in effect in the capital after the assassination attempt on the president.

Sabuko followed the repetitive patrols of a group of soldiers several blocks away. They moved in pairs, with each pair walking in opposite directions in a circle around a large canvas tent. Three pairs of soldiers circled the tent like electrons orbiting an atom's nucleus.

Sabuko knew what was inside the tent. General Salinas, head of Mozambique's armed forces, had ordered tents erected at key points throughout the city to serve as operating bases. Each one had an officer, a radio and stockpiles of weapons and explosives. But the one Sabuko was watching was different from the others. This tent was the one in which General Salinas coordinated the entire operation to secure the city.

Sabuko watched the pairs of soldiers circle the tent and timed each patrol in her head. Every 95 seconds, approximately, there were no soldiers within sight of the main entrance of the tent. She memorized the patrols of the soldiers, waited for the right moment, then sprang into action.

Sabuko rappelled down the side of the building she was on until she reached street level. She followed the path that she had spent the past five hours carefully planning. As she moved down the street towards the tent, she utilized shadows and parked cars to conceal her from the armored vehicles rolling by.

When she reached the central command tent, she did not even have to break her stride. There was a pair of patrolling soldiers walking by the rear entrance, and two more pairs were crossing paths right next to the side entrance. The front entrance was unguarded and Sabuko quietly entered.

Once she was inside, she crouched under a large table to observe the movements of the soldiers inside the tent. One of them operated a radio while another was taking stock of a crate of assault rifles. She planned her path, and then silently moved past the soldiers to another room in the tent. The room was sealed off from the rest of the tent, and there was only person inside.

Sitting in a folding chair, facing a computer screen, was General Salinas. He had his back turned to her, but he still heard her approaching.

"I never thought I would meet one of the infamous Stygian Warriors," Salinas said, his back still turned, "Then again, I never thought I would find myself betraying my closest friend."

"We traced the explosive back to you," Sabuko said, "The president is still alive, and you are going to jail for treason. That is, unless I kill you first."

"You want to know why?" Salinas assumed, "I wish I knew. Something much bigger is going on. The operative, Malik, was an Egyptian Intelligence officer who went rogue during the coup in 2011. I was told to coordinate with him or die."

"Who was your contact?" Sabuko asked.

"It is so convenient for them," Salinas said, "To the world, it looks like just another third world despot overthrown by a strong military leader. But I did not plan this. They arranged the attack on the beach because they knew exactly how Faustino would react. He declared martial law, fleeing to his island and leaving me the opportunity to take over the country. He played right into their hand."

Sabuko noticed that the General was speaking in a slightly louder tone than earlier. It was almost loud enough for the two soldiers in the other area of the tent to hear him.

Sabuko spoke in a hushed tone. "The first attempt on his life made him retreat. The second made him attack. He wants blood, and it will be yours unless you tell me your contact."

Salinas sighed. "When you went missing-in-action in whatever corner of the world your military was meddling with, you had a choice. Either return to the world of the living, or become the most coveted military contracor in the world. You decided to stay 'dead' so that you could deploy into the most politically complicated situations."

Salinas talked loud and slow. Sabuko knew she was running out of time. One of the soldiers would get suspicious and check on the General soon.

Salinas continued his monologue. "I am just a distraction. They do not want Faustino to die a martyr. They want him to disappear without a trace, the same way you did. He already cut off all transportation to and from the island. Again, playing right into their hand. I suspect nobody on that island will ever be seen again."

Sabuko heard the two soldiers outside talking to each other. Then she heard footsteps outside approaching the General's room.

Sabuko stabbed her knife into the general's throat, mangling his voice box.

"Sorry. Got to go."

She pulled the knife out and blood spilled onto the computer screen. Sabuko touched her ear.

"Central, I need an evac now. New mission area has been identified. Mobilize transport to Cairo."

Before she could receive confirmation from her superior over the radio, one of the Mozambican soldiers walked into the back room. The soldier was startled momentarily at the sight of Sabuko standing next to the blood-soaked General, then regained his senses and started firing a CTAR-21 automatic assault rifle. In the close quarters of the tent, the noise was deafening.

"The general is dead!" the soldier shouted, "Kill the assassin!"

Sabuko did not panic. She was aware going into the operation that there was a high likelihood of being detected. The first thing she did was throw her knife at the panicked soldier before one of his wildly placed rounds could hit her. The knife hit him in the eye and he fell to the ground.

Sabuko left the back room and found herself staring down the barrel of another assault rifle. As the bullets punched holes in the tent canvas behind her, she deftly rolled to the side and out of the line of fire behind a stack of metal crates.

The soldier shooting at her ran to the other side of the tall stack of crates and started reloading his weapon. Instead of drawing her own weapon, Sabuko lowered her shoulder and ran straight ahead. She slammed into the stack of heavy crates and they fell over on top of the soldier.

With a little extra breathing room, Sabuko switched her earpieces to noise-cancelling mode. Then she pulled a device, nicknamed The Screamer, off of her belt and turned a knob on it. The Screamer was designed to hijack radio channels and broadcast an extremely disorienting tone at a very high volume. All she had to do was turn the knob to the frequency of the radio channel that Salinas' men were using to communicate.

She turned the Screamer's dial to the correct channel and then pressed a button to broadcast the disorienting tone. Her earpieces were programmed to cancel noise by playing the same frequency as the disorienting tone but with an inverted phase, creating interference so that her ears were protected.

The soldiers who were surrounding the command tent were not so lucky. Once the tone started playing out of every radio receiver within a 100-meter radius, every soldier dropped their weapons and clutched their heads in agony. They covered their ears with their hands, but that was not enough to stop the noise assaulting their brains.

Sabuko was about to make a run for her designated exfiltration zone when she noticed the contents of the crates she had kicked over in the tent. Inside, nestled in hay, were dozens of ALSG814 incendiary thermite grenades. Sabuko had worked with them before and knew the fuse time was exactly four seconds. That gave her enough time to pull three pins before the first one detonated.

Sabuko grabbed three of the grenades, pulled their pins and tossed them into different sections of the tent. She was improvising, but was confident that the thermite grenades would help cover her tracks. Before the four-second fuse time expired, she bolted out of the tent and dove for cover.

The thermite grenades detonated in quick succession and the command tent erupted into flames. Sabuko got up and started running in the direction of the rooftop where she left her Dragunov. The ground around her was littered with soldiers who were rolling around on the, hands over their ears and tears in their eyes as the harsh sound from the radios continued.

Suddenly, Sabuko heard gunshots coming from behind her. She was surprised that anyone could tolerate the ear-splitting sound from the Screamer enough to raise a rifle and shoot at her. She dove to the ground and rolled to face her attacker. Then, she saw that the bullets were not coming from any of the soldiers, but from the burning tent. The flames had reached several crates full of ammunition and the rounds were popping off, gunpowder ignited by fire rather than a firing pin inside a rifle chamber.

Sabuko got further away from the tent and then disabled the Screamer, cutting off the disorienting tone blasting from the radios. She stopped the noise because she wanted the soldiers rolling around on the ground in agony to stand up and become targets for the bullets sailing out of the tent in every direction. A few of the soldiers got to their feet, picked up their rifles and aimed at Sabuko as she fled. But their ears were still ringing, so at first they did not hear the bullets coming from the tent.

The flames sent a swarm of bullets in all directions as each ammunition crate in the tent was completely engulfed by fire. Soldiers were mowed down by their own stockpiled rounds, unable to avoid the waves of bullets that were flying thicker if an entire platoon was shooting at them. Many of the bullets went straight up in the air, and after a certain time they came falling back down. Soldiers that had taken cover to avoid the bullets coming from the tent had no protection from the bullets raining down from the sky. There was no escape for any of the soldiers unfortunate enough to be stationed near the tent.

Sabuko knew that the soldiers dying behind her were not bad people, just troops following orders. They all had families that would never see them again. The Mozambican soldiers joined the military to protect their fellow citizens and preserve the peace in a country still feeling the aftershocks of a long civil war. But to Sabuko, the doomed soldiers were just obstacles between her and her paycheck. It did not matter who was standing in her way. If she had to, she would even kill one of her own....

Sabuko reached the rappelling rope that she had left on the side of the building. She attached a motorized winch to the rope and it quickly carried her up to the rooftop. From there, she grabbed the Dragunov and fired several shots down to the street at two SPV400 light armored vehicles that were approaching from the south. The rounds harmlessly plinked off the metal plating of the vehicles, but it was enough to alarm their drivers and slow them down.

Above Sabuko's position, a large six-rotor drone descended from the sky in free fall. Right before it smashed into the roof, its six rotors engaged, suspending it in midair about a meter above Sabuko. A carabiner attached to a rope was released remotely from the bottom of the drone. Sabuko pulled a similar carabiner from her belt and hooked it into the one dangling from the drone.

"Clear for takeoff," Sabuko said into her earpiece. The drone shot back up into the sky, taking Sabuko with it. It ascended as high as it could with Sabuko's added weight, but she could still make out the two armored vehicles attempting to follow her in the city streets below. The drone flew east towards the airport, where a cargo plane was waiting for her. The two armored vehicles were headed on a beeline straight to the airport as well.

A deluge of bullets streaked by Sabuko from behind. She spun around to see an AH-64 Apache attack helicopter on her tail. The 30mm cannon fired a steady stream of bullets at her, but the drone's uneven flight made her a difficult target to hit. But Sabuko knew it would not take long for the gunner to lock onto her.

"Boss! Kamikaze protocol!" Sabuko screamed into her earpiece.

She released the carabiner on her belt and plummeted, no longer attached to the drone. The drone changed course and flew directly into the helicopter's rotors, disabling it and sending it hurtling to the ground.

Sabuko quickly released a parafoil from a compact container on her back. The canopy successfully deployed, but by now she was dangerously close to the ground. She was falling too fast, and if she hit the ground at her current speed she could easily die. Looking for a way out, she steered the parachute hard in the direction of the two light armored vehicles speeding down the road below her.

Positioning herself above the front vehicle, she managed to slow the speed of her descent to roughly the same velocity of the vehicle. When she was directly above it, she squeezed the Capewells on her shoulders and the parafoil canopy detached from its harness. She landed on the roof of the front vehicle and her parafoil sailed into the windshield of the other vehicle, blinding the driver and making them slam on the brakes.

Sabuko landed hard on her stomach, and almost bounced off the roof of the light armored vehicle. She grabbed onto a rail and turned over onto her back to find herself face-to-face with a soldier poking his head out of the turret hatch.

The soldier grabbed the mounted machine gun and swung it around to aim at Sabuko. At point-blank range, the .50 caliber rounds would tear her to shreds. Before the soldier aligned his weapon on Sabuko, she lunged forward and kicked the barrel of the machine gun. The mounted gun swung around on its swivel so that it was pointed away from Sabuko.

Sabuko rushed the soldier and grabbed him by the shoulders. To his surprise, she muscled him up out of the hatch and onto the roof with her. In one deft move, she removed his pistol from his hip holster and then kicked him off the roof.

Sabuko jumped into the armored vehicle through the roof hatch. She found herself staring down three armed soldiers. In the tight quarters of the car, the rifles laid across their laps were useless. Before the soldiers could reach their sidearms, Sabuko's Beretta .32 caliber pistol barked loudly and three rounds were placed into three heads at point blank.

The driver smashed through a fence and onto a runway of the airport. He was headed straight at the C130 cargo jet that was waiting for Sabuko. If he reached it, he could crash the light armored vehicle into one of the landing struts and ground the plane. Sabuko could not let that happen.

Sabuko lunged at the driver from the backseat. With one hand, she grabbed the steering wheel, while the other hand put a pistol to the back of the driver's head. Then she pulled the trigger while simultaneously swerving the wheel hard to the right.

The top-heavy vehicle quickly overturned, rolling over and over on the runway until skidding to a halt just meters from the cargo plane. Sabuko kicked out the spiderwebbed windshield of the vehicle and crawled out.

Her superior, Tom Nicks, was standing in the cargo bay next to the loading ramp. He watched her stagger up the ramp with amusement. When she reached him, he pressed the button to retract the loading ramp and smiled at her.

"That kamikaze protocol was pretty fun. Wish I could have seen the look on the pilot's face when he saw the drone coming right at him," he quipped.

The second light armored vehicle roared through the mangled fence and onto the runway. As the C130 started to move forward, its jet engines created enough force to launch the crashed light armored vehicle behind it into the air. It landed directly in the path of the second vehicle, and the driver had no time to avoid a collision. The two vehicles smashed into each other right as the plane started to take off.

"That was too close," Sabuko replied.

"So, we are off to Cairo?" Nicks asked.

" _I_ am off to Cairo," Sabuko corrected him, " _You_ are going to Calypso Island."

Nicks flashed her a wry smile. "One successful operation and you are giving an order to your superior?"

Sabuko walked up to Nicks and stopped. Standing toe-to-toe, she was almost a head taller than him. While Nicks held onto a cargo net for balance as the plane shuddered, Sabuko stood comfortably in front of him.

"One successful operation working for Stratos, and a long career of successful operations in the service, as well as working for other contractors. I have been in the field longer than anyone else at your company, including you. Let me rephrase, _boss_. If you want to save your client and get paid, you need to get to Calypso as soon as possible."

Nicks sighed. Then he made his way down the cargo bay towards the front of the plane. There, he grabbed a parachute from a rack and brought back it to Sabuko.

"It is your lucky day. You get to jump twice," he said with a grin, "I will tell the pilot to drop you near the airfield in Lucete, where there will be a charter plane waiting to take you to Cairo. After that, this plane will change course for Calypso Island. I will HALO jump above the mansion, hopefully in time to stop the next attack."

Sabuko sat down as Nicks headed up to the cockpit to talk to the pilot. All she could think about was the words of General Salinas. One phrase kept repeating in her head.

"You want to know why? I wish I knew."

### Chapter 9

# Lima, Peru

Gustavo Ruiz sat in one of the stuffed leather seats at the executive boardroom table for Nomad Petro. The Board, however, was not in attendance. It was just Ruiz and the company's CEO, Jaime Victoriano.

"It was very brave of you to volunteer your own daughter to the cause," Victoriano said from his seat at the head of the thick wooden table.

"It had to be done. They would have cut off our access to the global market. We would have been bankrupt within two years. Now we still have a chance at expanding our corporation into the Indian Ocean," Gustavo Ruiz replied gloatingly.

"I applaud your dedication to the company," Victoriano said, "However, we will be ceasing all offshore drilling endeavors."

"What? After all we've sacrificed?" Gustavo exclaimed.

"Your daughter is a special woman," Victoriano told him, "She grew up with the same luxuries as my children. But they still languish in Lima, blowing their allowance on sports cars and designer clothes."

"I believe I had a hand in that. All she ever wanted was to get as far away from me as she could. Away from this place, away from my standard of living."

Victoriano grinned. "I think I am going to take a page from her book. The network of nonprofits we were forced to set up can be used for a greater good. Not just for laundering their blood money. We are going to focus primarily on humanitarian work. The petroleum business will come second."

"My daughter is most likely facing death," Gustavo spat, "And you wish to let her die for your _greater good_?"

"It was not for nothing," Victoriano replied, "You proved your loyalty. That is why you are being promoted to the CEO of the petroleum branch of Nomad. I will helm the humanitarian branch."

Gustavo clenched his fists under the table. A pulsing vein became noticeable in the side of his neck. Victoriano flashed him a smug smile and left the boardroom.

Once the door slid shut behind Victoriano, Gustavo Ruiz leapt from his chair and sprinted towards the other exit. He ran down a hall to his corner office on the fifteenth floor of the Nomad Petro skyscraper.

He scrambled behind his desk and took a tablet from a desk drawer. It was the same type of tablet as the one he had sent to Elena. The two tablets were programmed so that they could only communicate with each other.

He was going to press the call button, but he found there was already an incoming call from Elena's tablet. He clasped his hands together in silent prayer as he watched a repetitive animation on the tablet screen. Finally, the animation disappeared and he saw the image of his daughter's face.

"You piece of trash," Elena cursed.

"There are forces out of my control," Gustavo whimpered, tears rolling down his face, "I love you, Maria Elena. I have always loved you, even if I seemed cruel. But now there is nothing I can do to save you."

"Actually, there is something you can do to save your daughter," President Faustino interrupted, "Point the camera at me, Elena."

The image shifted until Gustavo was looking at Faustino from the other side of prison bars. "Tell me who contacted you," Faustino said, "Tell me who the assassin worked for."

"Can you promise to return my daughter unharmed?" Gustavo begged.

"I swear on my life that I will execute her right now in front of you unless you tell me who set her up," Faustino said.

Faustino pulled out a gold-plated Colt M1911 .45 ACP pistol and pressed the muzzle through the prison bars, aiming it directly at Elena. The image shifted so that Gustavo could see Elena's fear-stricken face.

"I am so sorry, _mija_ ," Gustavo said as tears started flowing down his face.

"Do you think I am bluffing?" Faustino roared.

Gustavo heard two gunshots and almost dropped the tablet in shock.

There was a long pause. The image from Elena's tablet showed nothing but a concrete ceiling. He could see a faint shadow playing across the ceiling from the body hanging nearby.

"This is your last chance, Gustavo," Faustino said.

Gustavo trembled.

"Tell him, you coward!" Elena shouted violently.

"I will tell you," Gustavo sobbed, "It is the United Nations."

"I have trouble believing that," Faustino replied coldly.

"Our company was contacted by a representative of the UN Economic and Social Council. She told us that if we successfully purchased from you the exclusive offshore drilling rights in Mozambique, our entire company would be severely sanctioned. She knew about our friendship that started at Paris Voltaire, and she even mentioned the thesis paper you and I wrote together."

"Then, after threatening you, she offered you a way out," Faustino said as he pointed the gun at the ground, away from Elena, "She put you in touch with the assassin, and used your daughter to get him close enough to kill me. I am sorry I threatened your daughter, Gustavo. You have my word she will not be harmed. But if I ever see you again, I will make sure you die."

With that, Faustino shot the tablet and abruptly ended the call. Gustavo Ruiz stared at the black screen on the tablet. He had no guarantee that he would ever see his daughter again, and he had just divulged information that might become his own death sentence.

He opened a door underneath his desk and pulled out an unopened vintage bottle of a _guadiente_. He opened the bottle for the first time and poured himself a shot. He knocked it back and then immediately poured another.

He took the second shot of _aguadiente_ and poured it onto the floor.

"God help you, Maria Elena," he prayed.

### Chapter 10

# Calypso Island

Hazy memories of the atrium pool swirled through Devlin's throbbing head. He recalled staring at the seafood feast laid out in front of him. Arranged on a table that was floating on the pool, the steamed crustaceans seemed almost at home. They were born underwater, and here they were again. Dead sea creatures in an artificial body of water. A lobster's lifeless eye returned Devlin's stare.

The laughter of the women in the pool grew louder. It became almost unbearable. As it got louder, the pitch got higher and the sound became more distorted. The laughter became an intense ringing in Delvin's ears. It was so disorienting that his vision began to blur. He covered his ears but the sound grew louder.

Devlin plunged into the water, hoping to drown out the onslaught of noise. Once his head went below the surface, the ringing stopped. His vision was clearer now. He saw lobster, crab and prawn falling off their platters and into the water above him. If only they could swim away. Their stiff bodies floated on the surface. Carapaces and spindly legs partially blocked out the overhead light, dark silhouettes of the creatures they once were.

More legs moved around him as he sunk to the bottom of the pool. The rough legs of the other Elite Guard members, thrashing around in distress. The smooth legs of the women, gracefully dancing among the struggling men. None of the female legs lingered near Devlin's submerged body as they moved around him to gather around the legs of Ajay, Ikbal and Cleyton.

The legs of the other Elite Guard members stopped moving one by one. The legs of the women converged on the men and started dragging them away. Devlin watched as the motionless legs were lifted out of the water.

His vision started getting darker as he realized he was running out of air. He tried to hold his breath as long as possible, but his lungs were burning. He did not want to return to the surface to face the ear-splitting laughter again. He looked around underwater and saw he was now alone. Cautiously, he swam up and broke the surface to take a breath of air.

Devlin gasped for air as a wave of seawater washed over him. The salty taste of the water in his mouth meant he was no longer in the pool. His head was throbbing still, but his vision was less hazy. He was not sure, but he had a hunch he was now in the present moment.

He lay face down in the sand on a beach. He tried to roll over and sit up, but his muscles were not responding. He strained just to lift his head above the shallow water.

The wave receded and Devlin tried again to roll over. He seemed to be using every muscle in his body, but it took him over a minute just to roll over onto his back. He barely had any jurisdiction over his own body. There was no pain, only numbness and mild panic as his muscles refused to respond to his commands.

Slowly, he was able to raise his torso high enough to prop an arm beneath his shoulder. He turned his body away from the water and looked up the beach.

He was on a narrow stretch of beach lining a small cove. The beach was surrounded by tall cliffs of white stone. Devlin decided to try to climb his way out once he regained full control of his body.

But the process of sitting up drained him. Now, every muscle he attempted to move remained motionless. He felt trapped in a body that did not work. He was overcome with horror at the thought he must be paralyzed. Then, gradually, his free arm lifted itself and his palm was placed down against the sand. His legs slid up and he pushed himself off the ground.

He felt like he was in a dream where he was not in control. He was just along for the ride. His hand waved in front of his face. A trail of blurry hands followed in the wake of his hand. He was perceiving motion at a much slower rate than normal.

He kept waving his hand around until the lagging images of the hand caught up with the real one. He did not know how long the process took, it could have been hours, but at least now he was only seeing one hand. He looked down at the sand and lifted one of his feet. He slowly placed it down and started moving forward.

He saw small crabs scurry out of the way of his feet as he walked up the beach. They ran until they reached their burrows. They disappeared underground, taking refuge from the monster stomping through their domain.

Devlin kept walking until he reached the base of the cliff. He placed his hands on a shelf in the rock and pulled himself up. He started climbing up the side of the cliff at a pace faster than he had ever scaled a rock face before. He had been trained in free climbing during his time in the military, but now he was flying up the side of the cliff at a pace that felt like there was an outside force lifting him up. He felt no pain, no strain of muscles or tensing of his fingers as they wedged into cracks in the rock.

He reached the top of the cliff and saw a hand extended down to him. He grabbed the hand and was pulled up over the edge. He got to his feet and saw that the hand that helped him up belonged to Ikbal.

"They put hallucinogens in our food," Ikbal said, "And tranquilizers to overpower us so they could dump us outside the mansion."

"Who? Why?" Devlin mumbled.

"The President thinks we are a threat," Ikbal told him, "He first suspected Riyadh of being a traitor, and now he does not trust any of us."

"Your eyes look huge. Like big, black, shiny marbles," Devlin said.

"We're still feeling the effects. It is _Datura stramonium_. Emidio Faustino and I used it on terrorist prisoners we interrogated in Afghanistan. Back when Faustino was UN Peacekeeper and I was an Afghan intelligence officer."

"How do I know you are real?" Devlin asked.

"That does not matter. We need to get somewhere and hide while the drugs wear off. Then we need to reach the mansion and assure Faustino that we are on his side. I can reason with him; have known him for a long time."

Ikbal started moving away from Devlin. Devlin stood still, letting Ikbal get ten paces away from him. Ikbal turned around and looked back at him.

"I am not leaving you," Ikbal said, "But we need to move inland now."

Devlin started following Ikbal as he moved towards a thick patch of forest. The trees towered over them, taller than any Devlin had seen on the mainland.

"Are there giants at the top?" Devlin wondered out loud.

"Stay focused on the path ahead of you," Ikbal ordered, "I need you to stay with me."

Devlin walked up to the trunk of a nearby tree.

"Do not let them eat me," Devlin said, "Like the crabs in the pool."

Ikbal looked at Devlin and then rushed over to him.

"You may have just saved us," Ikbal said.

He grabbed Devlin's arm and led him around the base of the tree until they were in front of an opening in the trunk. The inside of the tree was hollow and the opening was just wide enough for them to fit through. They squeezed inside and sat down in the hollow of the tree.

"This spot should be safe for now," Ikbal said, "Now we just need to focus on staying sane. The best way to deal with this drug is to think positive thoughts. Remember your childhood home. The first girl who held your hand. The last time you saw your mother."

Devlin stared blankly at his hands. He remembered feeling the warmth of Andrea's hand, as they lay on the mountainside, gazing at the stars. He wondered where she was now. Who she was with, what they were doing, and whether she would care if he died alone on a remote island.

### Chapter 11

# Prison block, ground floor of Faustino's mansion, Calypso Island

Faustino ejected the magazine from his pistol and pulled back the slide to show Elena that the chamber was empty.

"I am sorry for putting you through that, Elena. But my safety was at stake. I had to make sure your father would tell me who I am up against. And all I know now is that someone very powerful is using the United Nations as cover to extort powerful people like Gustavo. This can only mean there are monumental forces at work against me."

When Faustino shot at her, Elena knew he was shooting to kill. But right before he fired, she grabbed Malik's body and put it between her and Faustino. Both of the bullets were absorbed by Malik, and Faustino decided to give Gustavo another chance to save his daughter.

Faustino opened the door to the prison cell and extended his hand to Elena. She waited until he tucked the pistol back into his belt before she came out.

Elena followed Faustino past the empty cells in the basement, back toward the elevator. Elena noticed now that most of the cells had dark stains on their floors. Faustino opened the elevator doors and they got in. Once they were in and the door shut, the voice of Octavius came in over an intercom.

"Mister President, we are picking up a military aircraft on radar. It is moving at high altitude on a trajectory that will take it directly over the mansion. It is now about ten miles out."

"Try to establish radio contact on an encrypted channel," Faustino ordered, "Make sure to let them know that our radar is advanced enough to track them at any altitude. And remind them I ordered that no person enter or leave this island."

"Order confirmed," Octavius responded before the intercom clicked off.

Faustino pressed a button for the top floor on the elevator and it started to ascend.

"I joined the UN Peacekeepers and protected the citizens of the world for over twenty years. Then I returned to the land of my birth and led it into an era of peace and prosperity it has never experienced. And now someone is coming for me as if I were a vicious despot.

"I already announced I would step down from power after my next term if I were to be reelected. I earn my people's trust with compassion and employment. So instead of waging a public war against me, the foreign spies are using covert tactics to remove me from power.

"The one thing that I cannot understand is why. Who has the most, if anything, to gain if I were dead?"

Elena fidgeted her hands nervously. Her blood was still pumping furiously after having a gun pointed at her head, and then hearing her father admit he put her in danger intentionally. Instead of looking at Faustino, she stared ahead at the numbers on the elevator buttons.

"I can tell you are rattled as well," Faustino observed, "I say we take a break from this madness and loosen up."

Faustino pressed a button for the first floor, and soon the elevator stopped and the doors opened. Elena and Faustino stepped out into a weight room, complete with weights of all sizes and racks for numerous barbells. The equipment was all fastidiously clean.

They walked past the gym equipment and through a door a different area of the fitness center. After walking down a hallway, they reached an enormous glass wall. On the other side of the wall was a squash court.

Next to the court was a rack of white, rubber-soled shoes in every possible size. Elena found her size and put on a pair of the shoes while Faustino did the same. Faustino handed Elena a racquet and a pair of goggles, then donned a pair himself. He grabbed a small black, rubber ball with a blue dot and entered the court, holding the glass door open for Elena. They entered the court and stood next to each other, facing the wall.

"You have played before," Faustino assumed.

"My father taught me when I was little," Elena said.

"We played together on the team at Paris Voltaire University," Faustino told her.

"He never mentioned you. Now I know why."

Faustino sighed and looked ahead to the wall.

"He was the team captain, and the best squash player I have ever seen. I have no doubt he ingrained in your mind the strategy of this sport," Faustino said.

He bounced the ball off the ground and swung his racquet forcefully, launching the ball towards the wall. The ball ricocheted off the wall towards Elena, who instinctively stepped aside and hit it back at the wall.

"Each player wants to keep the ball away from their opponent," Faustino said, "Every time the ball is hit against the wall, the goal of each player is to get the ball to ricochet too far or too low for their opponent to return. The point is then awarded to the last player to hit the front wall successfully."

Faustino kept hitting the ball lower and towards the left side of the far wall. Elena did her best to run across the court to return the ball.

"The beauty of the game is that each player gets one hit at a time, and then wait their turn."

Elena struck the ball and it hit near the bottom right corner of the wall. Faustino let the ball sail past him, conceding the point to Elena. He stood facing her, his racquet held at his side.

"They hit first with the attack on the beach. I responded with a tactical retreat to the island. Then they came with the assassin, Malik. I returned their advance by cutting off all movement to and from the island. Eventually, they are going to try to get me into a position from which I cannot return. But there is another option."

Faustino turned to Elena and raised his racquet above his head, as if he was preparing to bring it down and strike Elena.

"I can break the cycle and hit them right in the head. Ending their deadly game. But first I need to deal with their next advance. The plane that will be over the island any minute."

An intercom on the wall of the court came to life.

"Mr. President, we have established communications with the aircraft. It is one of your friends. Stratos Defense, LLC."

"Patch me in," Faustino requested as he briskly walked over to the intercom.

"Mr. President, this is Tom Nicks. You are in immediate danger. I am jumping onto the island to intercept and stop the enemy's next assassination attempt. We do not know who the enemy is or what their next attack will be, but we have reason to believe that this one is going to be their nuclear option."

"I am aware of the persistent threat on my life, Nicks. As you already know, my mitigation strategy was to cut off all movement onto and off Calypso. You are ordered to stand down and change course. Your new mission area is New York City. United Nations headquarters."

"Order confirmed. Changing course now," Nicks responded.

"I will brief you further once you are over the Atlantic," Faustino said, "Over and out."

The intercom clicked off. Faustino turned back around to face Elena.

"Now," he said, "How about another volley?"

He tossed the ball to her and she caught it. He squared up to face the far wall and Elena did the same. Then she bounced the ball on the ground and drew back her racquet, ready to release her stress on the tiny rubber sphere.

### Chapter 12

# Mount Mabu, Mozambique

Detective Nazir Cadre stopped to catch his breath. Not only was he at an elevation over 1,000 meters higher than his home city of Maputo, but the humid air in the rainforest surrounding Mount Mabu provided much less usable oxygen than he was accustomed to. Loureiro, the pathologist, lagged further behind him.

Mount Mabu contained one of the most pristine rainforests in the world. The forest had only been known to the broad scientific community for a little over a decade, after it was discovered using satellite imagery. There were several communities around the mountain. Cadre and Loureiro had been to all of them, posing as biologists, hoping to gather information that could help identify the murder victim from the hotel in Maputo.

Two months ago, when Cadre found the osteoporosis pill at the crime scene, he first assumed it belonged to the killer, and not the victim. But the rope hanging from the balcony railing would have been difficult for someone with osteoporosis to descend, unless they were also very fit. Cadre's reasoning led him to start reading medical research on osteoporosis in Mozambique.

Loureiro's revelation of the victim's true advanced age added more questions than answers, but it meant that Cadre's investigation of medical research could now shed some light on the victim's identity, which was still unknown.

Two months ago, before the murder investigation had been handed over to government officials, Cadre pored through medical journals in search of a way to find the killer. At first, he searched for which doctors in Mozambique were familiar with osteoporosis treatments, so that he could interview one of them and attempt to learn more about the condition, the pill he had found, and the likelihood of a killer with osteoporosis to be able climb two stories down a makeshift rope.

Cadre's most promising lead actually came from a paper co-authored by a Kenyan biochemist and a Peruvian anthropologist. The paper examined the diet and lifestyle of the residents of several villages near Mount Mabu in order to determine why the life expectancy there was so much higher than the national average. The scientists found that the villagers were in excellent physical condition from routine labor involving carrying heavy loads up and down the mountain slopes. The scientists also found that despite their active lifestyles, more than half of the older villagers had osteoporosis. The scientists, Esther Chemutai of the Nairobi Technical University and Francesca Marqueto of the University of Lima, concluded that this was possibly due to the villagers' unique diet, which included plants found only in the Mount Mabu rainforest.

When Cadre and Loureiro arrived at the remote villages surrounding Mount Mabu, they posed as scientists instead of police for two reasons. The first was that they assumed the villagers would be more willing to talk to biologists than to policemen. As biologists, they could ask seemingly innocent questions that could indirectly help them find information on the victim. For example, if they asked if the villages had ever been visited by volunteers for Noveu Ouro, President Faustino's nonprofit organization, it could provide a connection between Mount Mabu and the President's penthouse suite.

The second reason that Cadre and Loureiro posed as biologists was that if they got caught investigating the murder, they would lose their jobs and end up in prison.

Even as biologists, Cadre and Loureiro had trouble getting any information out of the local villagers. However, in the village of Nangaze, they found a woman who was willing to help them. Her name was Andrea Mutemba, and she worked for a private organization called Mabu Forever that was founded to preserve the rainforest surrounding Mount Mabu. She told them about a secret village further up the mountain, where they could hopefully find what they were looking for.

Cadre took a few more deep breaths before continuing up the mountainous jungle trail. Mutemba was far ahead of him, and Loureiro was behind him, but catching up. His shirt dampened by sweat, Cadre was thankful for the cool shade provided by the trees towering above.

"We have arrived!" Mutemba called from above.

Cadre and Loureiro eventually reached her, panting. They found themselves in a clearing, surrounded by several structures that were abandoned, and overgrown with vines.

"I grew up here," Mutemba told them, "Along with other children like me. Orphans, refugees from the civil war. That war is the reason this rainforest remained hidden from the scientific community for so long."

"Did you and the other children survive on your own? Or were there adults living here too?" Cadre asked.

"Just one woman," Andrea said, "She was a doctor. She was here in the rainforest searching for cures for diseases. There are many plant and fungus species here that still are unknown to science. She started taking us in, feeding us while we helped with her research."

"Where is she now?" Cadre asked.

"She finished her research and left. While she was here, she developed a medicine that she said could reverse aging. But she needed to conduct trials. So she tested her medicine on us. She tested the boys more often, and gave them higher doses. Some of the boys experienced terrible side effects. One of them ran away...."

Mutemba's voice trailed off. Cadre looked over at Loureiro, who had wandered through the abandoned village as Cadre and Mutemba were talking. Now Loureiro was stopped in front of a hut, frozen in place. Cadre walked over to him, followed by Mutemba. When he reached Loureiro, Cadre's eyes widened.

The hut was stacked knee-high with bones.

Cadre and Loureiro spun around to face Mutemba. They both looked at the sickle that she grasped in her hand. She had used the tool earlier to clear the jungle trail during their journey to the abandoned village. She still held the blade firmly. Cadre and Loureiro were unarmed.

"I see you found Miss Nura's bone collection," Mutemba said with a smile, "That was her name, Nura. She trapped animals and took their bones. For some reason she was looking for animals with porous, brittle bones. Like osteoporosis in humans. When she found wild boar with porous bones, she would study them to see what they were eating. She would also analyze their blood chemistry. That was the way she developed her medicine. It is a shame she killed so many animals, but she also had to make sure the children had food."

Mutemba waved with the sickle and used it to point at the sky. "The sun is getting low. We should go back. I am sorry I could not help you more."

### Chapter 13

# Calypso Island

Devlin rocked back and forth as he sat on the ground in the hollow of the tree. He whispered to himself, words that made no sense but at the same time seemed like profound revelations. The sun was just now beginning to rise. He welcomed the rays of light as they streamed through the opening in the tree. When he was in the dark, alone with his thoughts, it was not pleasant.

"Stay here," Ikbal said.

Ikbal climbed out of the opening in the tree trunk. He surveyed his surroundings and then disappeared from view. Devlin stared outside at the spot where Ikbal had been standing. Devlin heard footsteps and bushes rustling outside. He backed himself up against one side of the tree, trying his best to hide from whoever was out there.

Finally, Ikbal reappeared.

"It is clear. We need to move," he said to Devlin.

Devlin rushed up to the exit from the hollow tree and climbed out. By the time he pulled himself all the way through, Ikbal was already several paces ahead of him. He followed Ikbal through the jungle for over an hour before the trees receded and they found themselves on top of a rocky outcrop.

"Are you still getting visuals?" Ikbal asked.

Devlin waved his hand in front of his face. He could still faintly see traces of his hand linger in the air before his eyes.

"How many hands do I have?" Devlin asked, "How many do we need?"

Ikbal looked at him for a moment before turning his attention elsewhere. From atop the rocky outcrop they could see the mansion in the distance. It was several kilometers away, and below their current elevation.

"We should make as much distance as we can until we get close to the mansion and set up camp nearby. I do not want to try to enter the mansion at night because there would be a higher chance of Faustino thinking we are a threat and shooting us," Ikbal planned.

"Do not shoot me," Devlin said.

Ikbal gave Devlin a concerned look. "I do not have a gun, Devlin. Nobody is going to shoot you."

"Please do not shoot!" Devlin yelled.

"Calm down," Ikbal said as he shook Devlin's shoulders.

Ikbal put his hand over Devlin's mouth to silence him. Devlin struggled, his yells muffled and his eyes wide.

Then, a gunshot cracked behind them and a bullet whizzed by Ikbal's head.

"Take cover!" he yelled.

Devlin dropped to the ground. With no cover in sight, all he could do was go prone and make himself a small target. Ikbal did the same. Another bullet hit the rock right next to Ikbal, kicking up fragments of rock and dust. Devlin rolled out of the way. Another bullet hit closer to Ikbal, this time right next to his head. The shooter appeared only interested in Ikbal, but Devlin was still terrified. He kept rolling away until he rolled right over a rocky ledge and tumbled down a steep slope.

Devlin crashed through vines and shrubs as he tumbled down the slope. Then, a sickening crunch stopped his fall as he collided hard with a rock. He gasped for air. At least one rib was definitely broken. Devlin heard another body tumbling down the slope and watched Ikbal roll past and smash into another rock below him.

Devlin and Ikbal slowly got to their feet. They assessed their surroundings and realized that the rocks they hit were actually stone columns. The columns were old, worn and covered with vines and moss. Devlin and Ikbal were standing on the edge of a circular arrangement of evenly spaced columns. In the middle of the circle were crumbled slabs of rock that all had flat surfaces. The site appeared to be the ruins of an ancient stone structure.

Then Devlin noticed the bones. There were thousands of them scattered all around him. The odd thing about the bones was that they were all the _same_ type of bone. They appeared to be bones from a lower leg. And because of the lengths and angles the bones were bent, the bones did not appear to be human. Devlin had seen something similar before in his childhood.

"The bones are from pigs. They are used for rituals. Rituals by witches," he uttered.

Ikbal stared around in awe. "These ruins are Greek. You can tell by the square end of the broken column next to you that it is Doric. This looks like it could have been a ceremonial altar. Where do you see the bones, Devlin?"

Before Devlin had the chance to respond, he heard a third body tumbling down the slope. The person hit one of the stone columns with a _whump_. Devlin saw a pistol leave the person's hands from the impact and it came to a rest near his feet. Ikbal did not see the pistol and immediately ran over to subdue the attacker.

Ikbal quickly jumped on top of the person and pinned their arm against their back. The person cried out in pain. Ikbal immediately recognized the voice.

"Ajay! You are alive," Ikbal said with relief.

Ikbal released Ajay's arm. Ajay responded by yelling and trying to attack Ikbal again. Ikbal threw a punch that hit Ajay in the jaw and momentarily silenced him.

"Why are you trying to hurt us?" Ikbal asked.

"I am only trying to hurt _you_ ," Ajay seethed, "You betrayed us. You lied to us. And you murdered Riyadh."

"I did not betray you," Ikbal responded, "It was Faustino. He drugged us with hallucinogens and left us out here to die. You have to fight through the drugs and try to stay grounded in reality."

Ajay coughed violently and spat out blood. "I stopped hallucinating hours ago. My thoughts are clear. The only thing that is not clear is _who you really are_ , Ikbal."

"Calm down, brother. We're all on the same side," Ikbal said soothingly.

Devlin moved the slide back on Ajay's pistol to check if there was a round in the chamber. Ikbal heard the noise and his head snapped around. Devlin aimed the pistol right between Ikbal's eyes.

"He is right, Ikbal. Time for you to come clean," Devlin said.

Ikbal released Ajay and they both got to their feet.

"As I already told Devlin, I am not a civilian who weaseled my way onto Faustino's security detail because he did business with my father. I _was_ an Afghan intelligence officer, assisting coalition forces in Afghanistan with high-level interrogations during the war. It was there that I met Faustino, and we worked closely for several tours until I _apparently_ died in a truck bomb attack on our compound.

"What I _am now_ is a Stygian. I am one of the most coveted of all private military contractors: one who can do anything to anyone because, to the world, I am already dead. A truck bomb blew up a police station in Kabul, and my body was never found. I work for a company called Stratos Defense, and I was hired by Faustino to be a sleeper in his security team in case a hostile entity turned one of you against him. That is what happened with the last team, so he fired and exiled them all and replaced them with you. He suspected Riyadh of conspiring against him as well, but I knew he was wrong."

"Then why did you kill him?" Devlin asked, steadying his aim.

"I only choked him unconscious," Ikbal replied, "Riyadh is still alive."

### Chapter 14

# Dar Es Salaam, Tanzania

Riyadh rubbed his neck. It was still sore from when Ikbal choked him two days earlier. He was revived later that day with a syringe full of epinephrine, jabbed into his neck by a Stratos Defense operative. The man, who went by the singular name of Norman, informed Riyadh that he was officially dead. Riyadh was quickly initiated into the Order of Stygia, and then was presented with a contract offer from Stratos. Stratos got ahead of the bidding war between military contracting companies for the newest Stygian because Ikbal Khalaf referred them directly to Riyadh. Riyadh had a five-figure signing bonus waiting for him in an offshore account, but first he had a mission to complete. A mission bankrolled by the same man who had mistakenly ordered Riyadh's execution: President Faustino.

Ever since the assassination attempt on the beach in Praia do Wimbe, Stratos intelligence had been gathering information on known insurgent groups in the region. They knew that Riyadh was not an enemy of the president, and simply made a mistake by diving for cover instead of standing and using his body to shield Faustino from incoming fire. Stratos traced the attackers back to a remote training compound in Tanzania. Norman led a strike team to raid the compound and discovered that the terrorists were receiving funds from a reclusive millionaire who lived in Dar Es Salaam.

Because the operation involved a high-profile target in Dar Es Salaam, a city of over four million people, Norman's superiors decided a Stygian was the only option. If the interrogation and elimination of the target was unsuccessful, Stratos had to avoid any responsibility. That meant using an operative that was not listed on their payroll. This was the true value of a Stygian, as a freelance gun-for-hire with no known nationality or company ties. Stratos had also made alterations to Riyadh's teeth and fingerprints as an added measure to ensure he could not be identified and traced back to them.

It was an added bonus that Riyadh would be able to take down the terrorists that led Faustino to order his death. Riyadh understood Faustino's rationale, and he had replayed that crucial moment in his head over and over for days after he was resuscitated. He had no explanation for why he dove to the ground, instead of stepping in front of the President to protect him. It was a split-second decision that would cost him his job and force him into a shadowy occupation where he could never see his family or friends ever again.

Riyadh stood outside the gates to the millionaire's beachfront estate. The man, Russel Kassian, made his fortune in real estate and had numerous holdings and shadow companies. He rarely left his home, and his personal chef had all of his preselected ingredients delivered to the estate.

Riyadh, wearing a delivery uniform and carrying a box of fresh produce, pressed the call button on the keypad next to the gate. He looked up at the camera mounted above it. After a short pause, the gate opened and Riyadh entered. He reached the front door and was greeted by Kassian's personal chef.

"You are not the usual guy," the chef remarked when Riyadh handed him the box of produce.

"No," Riyadh said.

Riyadh punched the chef in the throat. The chef dropped the box of produce and fell to the ground, gasping for air. Riyadh brought his boot down hard on the man's head, knocking him out cold.

Riyadh drew a pistol and quickly moved through the house. He knew he was racing against time. Security cameras had undoubtedly seen him dispatch the chef, and now he had to intercept Kassian before he reached his safe room.

He saw a shadow moving across the wall upstairs, so he ran up the stairs after it. When Riyadh got to the top of the stairs, he looked left and saw Kassian lumbering down a hallway.

"Stop!" Riyadh shouted.

Kassian kept moving. Riyadh pointed his pistol down at the man's legs and fired. The round hit Kassian in the thigh and sent his heavy frame tumbling to the ground. Riyadh ran up to secure his target. In his rush, he failed to check his corners as he ran through a doorway.

A young man wielding an AK-47 jumped out of hiding, swinging the rifle and smashing its stock into the side of Riyadh's head. Riyadh staggered sideways, and the man finished the job by jabbing the rifle stock into Riyadh's face and everything went black.

Riyadh awoke tied to a chair with a dark cloth bag over his head. He jerked his head around, but the bag prevented him from seeing anything.

"He is awake. Take the bag off. I want to look him in the face," a voice said.

The cloth bag was removed from Riyadh's head. Riyadh found himself in a small, windowless room. The walls were cinder block and a single light bulb hung from the ceiling. The young man who knocked him out was standing in front of him, glaring at him with hate in his eyes.

"You shattered my father's femur," the man said before punching Riyadh in the face.

Riyadh coughed and spat out a tooth.

"Take it easy on our guest, Said," another man said, "And be at peace. You will get to deal the killing blow soon enough."

The other man emerged from behind Riyadh and handed Said Kassian a long sword. Said admired the sword in his hand and then grinned malevolently at Riyadh.

"Killing me does nothing. I am already dead," Riyadh said.

"Oh, but you are not dead at all, Suleiman Al Riyadh," the calmer man replied.

Riyadh's eyes bulged.

"How do you know my name?" Riyadh asked incredulously.

The calmer man chuckled. "Tell me, how does a member of the Abu Dhabi royal family end up as a Stygian, hunting for 'terrorists' in Tanzania?"

The man put a special emphasis on the word 'terrorists' and winced slightly as he uttered it.

"Because I have a sense of duty," Riyadh spat back, "Which is something you scum will never understand."

"Let me tell you about us, since you seem to have no idea who we are," the calmer man said, "We identify with the Lunar Parallax. We see the moon differently than the rest of you. To you, what we do can be classified as terrorism. To us, we see it as the clearest path to achieving world peace. We must do it through violence, because that is the only language all people understand."

As the man talked, Riyadh looked around the dimly lit room. A video camera on a tripod was on the far wall of the room, and it was facing Riyadh. Said Kassian walked over to the camera and looked back to the calmer man.

"I am ready," the younger Kassian said.

The calmer man nodded and put the bag back over Riyadh's head.

Riyadh heard the tip of the sword dragging on the floor as Said Kassian walked toward him. Kassian stopped behind him. Riyadh felt the blade touch the back of his neck lightly. Then the blade touched him again. Kassian was taking practice swings before he cut Riyadh's head off.

"Cut," the older man said.

Riyadh braced for the fatal blow.

Said Kassian took Riyadh's hood off. He then cut the ropes that bound Riyadh to the chair.

"Go stand behind the camera," Kassian told him.

Riyadh got up and hesitantly walked over to the older man, confused. He stood behind the camera while Kassian remained in the same place, standing behind the now empty chair.

"And...action," the older man said.

Kassian yelled and swung his sword above the chair, right where Riyadh's neck had been. Then he glared at the camera.

"Perfect," the old man said, and he powered the camera down.

The old man took the camera off its tripod and Kassian set the sword down, propping it up against the wall.

"Come join us in the dining room," Kassian said to Riyadh.

Riyadh followed the two men out of the dark room and up a set of stairs. They exited into a kitchen, where Riyadh saw the chef he knocked out earlier. The chef's face was bruised and he held a bag of ice to his head, while giving Riyadh a begrudging look.

Riyadh left the kitchen and entered the dining room. He realized he was still in Russel Kassian's mansion. The old man and Kassian's son, Said, sat down at the table. The old man looked at Riyadh and pointed to a chair.

Riyadh sat down uneasily. His arms and legs were no longer bound, and the two men were unarmed to the best of his knowledge. He could hurt them, yet he also wanted to ask them questions. The main question being why they spared his life.

"We can edit the film later so that I actually cut your head off," Kassian said, "We have done it before and it looks awesome. The last video got almost ten million views."

"What do you actually want from me?" Riyadh asked.

"First, I want an apology. You are lucky my father is recovering in the hospital..."

The old man raised his hand to silence him. Then the old man cleared his throat.

"You have now died twice in the eyes of the world. You still live because you are of great use to us. Eventually, we believe you will see things our way, and you will take the vows to join Parallax. But for now, we need you to help our organization get an audience with your family."

"If you were going to hold me for ransom, why are you making a video to fake my death?"

"Not ransom. We wish to make a business deal. They own a large swath of land in Sinai that is about to become very, very valuable. But they do not know it yet. If you help us get access to that land, we can make your family much wealthier. I am not exaggerating when I say they would become the most powerful family in the Arabian Peninsula."

### Chapter 15

# Calypso Island

Devlin lowered the pistol that had been aimed at Ikbal's head.

"I believe you," Devlin said, "But I still do not trust you."

"That does not matter," Ikbal replied, "We need to get back to the mansion and stop the President before he does something even more reckless. He already drugged his own security team. I do not want to wait to find out what he does next."

"You can do that," Devlin said, "But I am getting off this island."

"I am coming with you, Devlin," said Ajay, as he warily eyed Ikbal.

The security team members parted ways, with Devlin and Ajay heading in the direction of the coast and Ikbal making his way toward the mansion.

Devlin tried to retrace the path he had taken from the coast. Once there, the plan was to navigate the coastline until they found a watercraft to take them off the island.

After hours of walking, Devlin and Ajay finally emerged from the jungle onto a pristine beach. The water was blue, the sand smooth. They chose a direction and moved up the coastline.

"Do you see someone ahead?" Ajay said as he squinted in the sun.

Devlin looked up the beach but saw no one. They kept walking until they reached the point where Ajay thought the person was standing. They looked down and saw faint footprints in the sand.

"There they are again!" Ajay said and pointed ahead.

This time Devlin saw the person. It was a woman in a flowing white dress. She was standing fifty meters away up the beach, staring back at them. Ajay waved at her, but she turned around and kept walking.

"Should we follow her?" Devlin asked.

"Maybe she can help us get off the island," Ajay replied.

"What if she is calling the island security for reinforcements?"

"She already saw us. There are two rounds left in that pistol and we are exposed on the beach. If she called island security, then we are already dead. But if she is willing to help, we have a chance."

Devlin nodded and they hurried down the beach after the woman. Her footprints turned up the beach and away from the water, only now there were cliffs separating the beach from the jungle above. Before the footprints reached the cliff, they began to turn again back in the direction that Devlin and Ajay originally came from.

The woman's footprints circled all the way around until they found them next to their own two sets of footprints in the sand. They also saw many other sets of footprints near theirs, indicating that others had been following them as they had been absorbed in the task of tracking the woman's footprints.

Ajay and Devlin looked up to see the woman in the white dress approaching them. They spun around and saw several other women approaching them from behind. Unlike the woman in the white dress, these women were wearing tattered garb and their faces were covered in dirt and what appeared to be dried blood.

In unison, the women pulled their shirts up to cover their faces. Almost immediately, a chain of small explosions went off in a circular pattern around Ajay and Devlin. The explosions sprayed sand into their eyes and the concussive blasts disoriented them. Ajay blindly squeezed the trigger and fired the last two rounds from his pistol.

Before Ajay and Devlin could regain their senses, they were taken to the ground by the women. They were both put in scissor grips between a woman's thighs. The women applied force until the men quickly could no longer breathe and lost consciousness.

Devlin awoke in a dark cavern. His hands and feet were tied together by rope. The stench in the cavern was horrible. Crabs scuttled across the floor, searching for food.

Devlin shifted his body around to try to see more of his surroundings. A dim light came from a small fire on the far side of the cavern. He could see the women gathered around the fire, whispering. It did not sound like they were talking. Instead it sounded like the kind of call-and-response chant Devlin remembered hearing as a child.

Devlin shifted some more to see that Ajay was hog-tied on the ground as well. Next to Ajay was a tall pile of clothes. It was dark in the cave, but Devlin could tell that the clothes in the pile were all part of the same uniform Devlin and Ajay wore. The uniform of the Presidential Elite Guard.

Devlin slowly inched towards Ajay, bringing his knees up then his head down to move across the ground. He was careful not to make too much noise and alert the women standing around the fire.

Devlin reached Ajay and nudged him with his head. Ajay did not move so Devlin nudged him again. Ajay opened his eyes.

"Devlin? Where are we?" Ajay whispered, his words echoing off the cavern walls.

Devlin screwed his face at him, desperately wishing he had a hand free to put it to his lips, or to cover Ajay's mouth. He looked back at the women at the fire and they were all staring at him. Suddenly one of the women was standing directly above him. Her face was covered in dirt, and the shadow cast by the light of the fire made her tall frame seem even more imposing.

Up close, Devlin got a good look at the woman in tattered garb standing before him and realized who she was.

"Aida. The tall one. You are all Faustino's female companions. You were the ones who drugged us at the pool."

Far away, the woman in the white dress laughed. She was still by the fire, and Devlin could not see her face clearly.

"Female companions! We are his _actual_ bodyguards. Your unit, the Presidential Elite Guard, draws attention away from us. The president surrounds himself with multiple layers of security, and you are merely the outer layer."

"You are not bodyguards," Devlin said, "You are witches. You whisper in his ear and control him."

"Yes, in a sense you are correct. You could say that modern witchcraft requires an intimate knowledge of chemistry and physics. We developed the drug cocktail that we dosed you with in the pool.

"President Faustino has a fixation on witches as well. He named this island not after Calypso, the Caribbean dance, but after Calypso, a witch from _The Odyssey_. He initially believed the island could have belonged to Calypso, but now after more research he is sure this was actually the island of Aeaea, where another legendary sorceress, Circe, turned men to swine.

"But there is no magic in this world, Devlin. I would like to believe Circe never turned men into pigs. Because men have always been pigs. And you deserve to get butchered."

"We need to get out of here," Ajay said as he struggled to get a hand free from the rope.

Devlin looked back at him with terror in his eyes.

"Devlin Pascoal, I have a question for you," the woman white said, "Have you ever been in love?"

"Yes," Devlin croaked, "Andrea."

"Where is Andrea now?" she asked.

"We split paths. I left and joined the Army. She always told me she would never be with a man who was willing to take the life of another."

The woman in white laughed. "She is a wise woman. You had respect for her, just as you have always had respect for us when you worked alongside us to provide security for the President. We will honor your respect and give you a... _humane_ death."

"The same cannot be said about you, Ajay," Aida spat.

Two more women walked up and grabbed the ropes binding Ajay's hands and feet. Together, with Aida, they lifted him up and carried him towards the fire. Ajay screamed and struggled but his efforts were useless.

"Your mother should have taught you to keep your hands to yourself," Aida spat at him, "Although that will not be a problem for you much longer."

Aida picket up a meat cleaver and hacked off one of Ajay's arms. Ajay screamed in pain and watched in horror as his arm was taken away and wrapped in butcher paper. Then Aida hacked off his other arm and Ajay passed out from shock.

Aida moved to his legs and began severing them from his body. As she worked, another woman brought a heated metal brand from the fire and cauterized Ajay's wounds. When they finished, a third woman propped up Ajay's body against a wall. She crushed some herbs in her hand and pressed them against Ajay's nose.

Ajay's eyes shot open. He moved his head around to see that all of his limbs were gone. Then he looked up to see that the women were all gathered around him, all holding knives.

"Have you ever been penetrated before, Ajay Patel?" the woman in white asked.

Ajay hyperventilated. His eyes darted around wildly.

"This is what you _disgusting_ creatures do to us," the woman in white said, a large knife in her hand.

She stabbed Ajay repeatedly in the stomach, looking him directly in the eyes as she did so. Then she sliced between the stab wounds to open up his stomach completely, letting his guts spill out onto the ground. He was still alive somehow. The woman in white stood up and motioned with her hand to another woman.

The other woman came over with a bowl full of a liquid. She tilted Ajay's head back and poured the liquid down his throat. The liquid ate through Ajay's organs and dissolved his entire digestive tract. Then the acidic sludge started to ooze across the floor towards Devlin.

Aida swung the meat cleaver and chopped Ajay's lifeless head off. Then she started slicing through his rib cage, cutting out sections and arranging them in a neat pile. Devlin did not want to watch. He was only focused on the puddle of acid that was slowly trickling towards him.

Devlin scooted his body around so that his back was to the acid. He waited for it to reach him. He felt his hands tingle, but there was nothing he could do. Luckily, the acid was not as strong after dissolving Ajay's internal organs. The skin started to peel from Devlin's hands, but the rope binding them began to dissolve as well.

Devlin got one hand free and, with the help of the acid, managed to free his other arm and legs. He crawled slowly on the ground towards the exit of the cavern, wary not to alert any of the women, who were still focused on cleaning and wrapping Ajay's body parts.

He reached a narrow tunnel that snaked away from the main cavern. He was out of view of the women and saw daylight ahead of him. He got to his feet and ran towards the exit. But before he got there, he triggered a switch that slammed a hidden door down, blocking his escape.

He heard voices from behind him and knew the noise from the falling door had alerted the women. With only one option, he ran back the way he came. He emerged to the main cavern to find the women waiting for him. They all were holding weapons. Aida and one other woman held meat cleavers, and the rest wielded large knives.

Devlin quickly scanned the room for a weapon. Next to Ajay's remains was a large meat hook. He made a run for it, and the women watched in amusement. They seemed not to be worried at all that he now had a weapon.

"You did not think we would let you leave so easily?" the woman in white said.

The woman in white was close enough to Devlin for him to see her face. She was not one of the bodyguards that Devlin had seen in his time working for the president. But her face was very familiar to him.

"I promised Andrea I would never take a life when I joined the army," Devlin told her, "But she knew I would not keep my promise. I am ashamed that I killed you, and now you have returned to torment me. I do not want to have to kill anyone else. I just want you to leave me alone."

"There are eight of us. Two months ago, we killed every member of the Presidential Elite Guard that came before you. Calypso is our domain, where Faustino sends his enemies to die without a trace. Your threats are wasted on us," the woman in white retorted.

"What did he mean when he said he already killed you?" Aida asked the woman in white.

"He is probably still hallucinating. He also said we were witches controlling Emidio's mind," another woman, Kiri, suggested.

Devlin stared down his opposition. Seven bodyguards wielding knives and cleavers stood in front of him, plus the mysterious woman in white, who was holding a large meat hook like the one Devlin had. The bodyguards were spread out, with Aida, Kiri, and a woman named Melany to his left, while the rest, whose names were Chahida, Iliya, Lilka, and Azelia, stood to his right. The woman in white stood directly ahead of him, further back. She stared back at Devlin, taunting him with a malicious grin.

Devlin waited for one of them to make the first move. Melany, to his left, rushed at him first, followed by Lilka to his right. He lashed out with his foot and kicked Melany in the knee, buckling it and sending her staggering backwards. He swung the blunt side of the meat hook at Lilka and knocked the knife out of her hands. He then swung the meat hook upwards at her head. The hook pierced the skin under her the chin and kept going into her brain, killing her instantly.

Devlin let go of the hook and reached down to pick up Lilka's knife when he felt a searing pain in his side. Kiri had snuck close enough to slice open a wound with her knife and was preparing another attack. Devlin caught her attack with one hand and with his other hand stabbed Kiri in the throat.

Chahida and Iliya rushed Devlin and tackled him to the ground. They worked together to pin his arms down while Azelia ran over and stabbed her knife into Devlin's right thigh. He ignored the searing pain and focused on his immediate adversaries. Devlin could not see Azelia, but he instinctively kicked at her with his left leg and felt it connect with her stomach, knocking the air out of her lungs.

Devlin then swung both of his legs up and to his right, his knees colliding with the back of the head of Iliya, who holding his right arm down. Iliya fell over and he used his right hand to grab her knife from the ground and stab her in the chest. Chahida, who was holding his left arm down, let go so that she could pick up her meat cleaver. Devlin deftly pulled the knife from Iliya's chest to his right and slashed at Chahida to his left, cutting a deep gash in her arm and causing her to drop the cleaver.

Devlin somehow managed to get to his feet. There were now five women left alive and he had knife wounds in his left abdomen and his right thigh. Chahida and Melany were close to him on his left. Melany had a shattered knee and Chahida had an incapacitated arm.

To his right was Azelia, the woman who had stabbed him in the thigh. She recovered her breath and now prepared to attack his weak right leg. She unleashed a kick that hit him directly in the right leg, but he reacted just in time to pivot his body and absorb the blow with the back of his leg instead of the front, where the knife wound was.

Azelia swung her knife at him, and Devlin raised his left arm to block the blow. The knife sunk into his forearm, but now she had no way to counter the knife in Devlin's right hand. He plunged the knife directly into her heart.

Chahida, hindered by the gash in her arm, finished wrapping a torn strip of clothing around the wound. Then she picked up her cleaver and advanced towards Devlin. Melany, fighting through the pain of a shattered knee, gritted her teeth and hobbled toward him along with Chahida.

Devlin took the knife in his right hand and threw it at Melany. The knife sank into her torso and she fell to the ground. Devlin then grabbed the knife still embedded in his left arm and extracted it slowly as blood spurted from the wound.

Chahida swung her cleaver at Devlin and he caught her arm with his left hand. He squeezed her wound as blood flowed from his own. Then he used the knife in his right hand to stab her stomach.

Devlin looked up to see Aida, one of the two remaining women, directly in front of him. She pressed a fistful of crushed herbs into Devlin's face. Devlin's vision went blurry and he swung his knife wildly. He felt Aida slash her cleaver into his chest, opening up a gaping wound. Fighting through the pain, Devlin kept swinging his knife until his vision cleared and he was no longer disoriented.

Aida was now clutching her throat as blood gushed out from underneath her hand. Devlin had somehow managed to slice her throat as he blindly swung his knife around. Aida dropped her cleaver, then fell to the ground and quickly died.

Devlin looked around for the woman in white, who was the only attacker still alive. She was no longer in the cavern. Devlin was alone, surrounded by the bodies of seven women he slaughtered. He thought of Andrea as tears streamed down his face. There was no way she could ever speak to him again. In the back of his mind, he always knew it, but now it was a searing reality.

Devlin went back into the tunnel to find that the exit was now unblocked. He followed the tunnel until he emerged back onto the beach. He looked around but saw no sign of the woman in the white dress. Gripping the knife, he assessed his surroundings.

Ahead of him was a cliff and above was the jungle. Behind him were the beach and the ocean. He looked up and down the beach, then back at the entrance of the cave. Finally, the pain from his wounds overwhelmed him and he collapsed onto the sand.

He fought to stay conscious as he assembled a makeshift tourniquet from his pants. If he blacked out now, he might die of blood loss. He wrapped the tourniquet around his thigh above the knife wound and pulled it tight. He then used his shirt to make another tourniquet that he wrapped around his torso to stop the blood gushing out of the cleaver wound in his chest. Blood still flowed from the knife wound on his left arm, so he wrapped his belt around his upper arm and pulled it tight.

His adrenaline kept him awake, but he still needed to rest. Using his right arm and his left leg, he crawled to the base of the cliff and sat up with his back against it. He held the knife at the ready, but he prayed he would never need to use it again.

### Chapter 16

# Executive office, third story of Faustino's mansion, Calypso Island

Faustino sat behind his large mahogany desk. The surface was cleared of everything except for his gold M1911 pistol. The Colt M1911 was custom made, and the wood on its grip was engraved with his initials. Elena sat in a plush chair on the other side of the office, warily eyeing the President and his gun.

Faustino had his head in his hand, deep in thought. After several minutes, he snapped out of his trance and straightened up in his seat. He opened a desk drawer and slid the pistol into it. Then he looked Elena in the eye.

"Did your father ever attempt to pass down his love of history?" Faustino asked.

"I always thought it was irrelevant," Elena replied, "He was obsessed with ancient Greece, with no regard for our Incan heritage."

Faustino chuckled. "The Inca were a fascinating civilization, but much of their history will never come to light. You see, the study of history requires written records. But the Incans did not have a written language. Instead they recorded their history with _khipu_ , which consist of a series of knots on strings. Maybe one day the _khipu_ will be deciphered, but the odds are slim."

Elena gazed around the room. The walls were decorated with both replicated and actual ancient charts and maps, as well as paintings depicting battles and adventures.

"I see you share my father's obsession with ancient Greece," Elena remarked.

"We collaborated on a thesis project at Paris Voltaire University. Our focus was Homer's epics, _The_ _Iliad_ and _The_ _Odyssey_. The general consensus among historians is that the works are mostly fiction, fantastical tales whose only purpose was to entertain. But we discovered that they might have been more factual than previously thought.

"The _Iliad_ tells the story of the Trojan War, in which the Greeks sailed to the faraway city of Troy to fight over a princess. Troy actually existed, and its ruins have been found on the Mediterranean coast of Turkey. The _Odyssey_ tells of the Greek King Odysseus and his journey home from Troy, during which he was blown off course by a storm and lost at sea for 20 years.

"We postulated that the islands Odysseus travelled to during those 20 years were just as real as the city of Troy. We also postulated that the reason they had never been found by archaeologists was because they were looking in the wrong places. And we found records that confirmed our hypothesis in an unlikely place: The Dead Sea texts.

"Most people only know of the Dead Sea _scrolls_ , which were preserved intact in caves for centuries. But there were also many more ancient texts discovered in the vicinity of the Dead Sea, and your father and I reviewed all of them searching for the proof we needed.

"The people who searched for the island of Aeaea, for the land of the Cyclopes, and the deadly rocks of the Sirens, were all looking in the Mediterranean. Your father and I discovered a Dead Sea text that referred to an ancient time and a story passed down orally for generations. And in this story, the geography of the area was much different.

"In the Dead Sea story, there was a sea passage in the middle of Sinai, connecting the Mediterranean Sea to the Indian Ocean. Since the text indicated that the mouth of the Strait of Sinai was very close to Israel, we determined that the Strait must have divided Sinai in half, and that it was unconnected to the Suez Canal hundreds of kilometers away. Your father and I postulated that Odysseus sailed through the Strait of Sinai during his adventure, and then back through it to return to Greece."

Elena's face lit up. "Charybdis and Scylla. Odysseus passed between them twice, and both times it was the only route he could take."

Faustino nodded. "Conventional scholars concurred that Charybdis and Scylla were in the Strait of Messina, between Italy and Sicily. But that means that Odysseus would have sailed West from Troy, and _past Greece_ , which was his intended destination. Later in life, I would gather evidence to support your father's theory that Odysseus in fact sailed South through the ancient Strait of Sinai, which has long since disappeared.

"I even found Charybdis and Scylla in South Sinai. Although you might know them from the Dead Sea scrolls, by a different name: _Mount Sinai_. Scylla, the six-headed monster, is the mountain's peak, a group of giant rocks that ships would smash into. And Charybdis, the whirlpool, was created by opposing tides and winds passing through the narrow strait and interacting with a steep cliff on the side of the mountain that would have been underwater at the time.

"The strange lands Odysseus visited were in Sinai and along the East African coast. This is why I initially returned to my homeland of Mozambique. To retrace the voyage of Odysseus."

Elena focused her attention on one painting. It depicted a woman in white, surrounded by swine.

"It makes sense," Elena said, "The Cyclopes tended what were described as giant sheep on their island. It is possible the giant sheep that Odysseus hid under to escape from Polyphemus could have been a large mammal native to East Africa, maybe rhinoceros or even elephants."

Faustino smiled. "I am glad your father sent you here. We have much to talk about, and nowhere else to go, as I weather the storm of assassination attempts. Hopefully the worst has passed, but nobody is leaving the island until I know I am safe."

"I think I know why they are trying to kill you," Elena said.

Faustino straightened up. "Tell me."

"The Dead Sea text that tells the story of Moses also described the Red Sea parting, allowing him to cross from Egypt to Sinai. What if the retreating water was actually pulled away when another large body of water nearby suddenly disappeared?"

"The lost Strait of Sinai," Faustino said.

"One explanation for how your Strait of Sinai disappeared is that it did not dry up over time due to a shifting climate. Instead, it was swallowed by the earth. There could have been a large cave system beneath the seafloor. Part of the ceiling collapsed, possibly due to a seismic disturbance, and the Strait of Sinai was pulled down into the void. The seismic disturbance, along with the massive volume of water rushing in from the Mediterranean and Red Sea could have pushed sediment up from the seafloor and sealed off both ends of the Strait of Sinai. Then the rest of the water drained underground to form a saltwater aquifer, where it remains _to this day_."

Faustino leapt from his chair and ran over to a chart on his wall.

"This underground aquifer," Faustino said, "Could it be uncovered and brought back to the surface?"

"It could be possible," Elena replied, "For someone with a massive budget and the world's best geologists, imaging tools, and mining equipment."

"The people who are trying to kill me want to rebuild the Strait of Sinai. It would open a new shipping lane between Europe and East Asia and make whoever controlled it extremely powerful. And I am the only one with the knowledge and the resources to beat them to the punch."

Octavius, the head of the Stratos strike force, suddenly entered the office.

"Laela has reported that one of your traitors is armed and loose on the island. She is the lone survivor after he slaughtered her entire force," Octavius said, "Also, we have reason to believe that two others may still be alive."

"Find them and kill them on sight," Faustino ordered, "Use _every_ tool at your disposal."

Octavius nodded and left the office.

"Are we in danger?" Elena asked.

"The traitors are going up against eight heavily armed operators who know the island much better than they do. Octavius and his strike force have never failed, and have never even sustained a casualty. And if, somehow, they fail, rest assured I will not."

Faustino slid open a drawer in his desk and pulled out his pistol, along with two gold-plated pistol magazines. He inserted one of the magazines into his custom Colt .45 and pulled back the slide to load a round in the chamber.

"I used to be an elite fighter myself. The UN Peacekeepers do not usually fire their weapons, but one day, in Kuwait, I had no choice. And once I tasted blood for the first time, I could never stop. It went on for years. But after what I did in Afghanistan in 2003, I realized I had become a monster.

"I decided to leave the Peacekeepers and travel the middle east in search of evidence to support my university thesis. I wandered through the Sinai, searching for Greek shipwrecks in the sands. And I searched the islands off the coast of Somalia for remnants of the Cyclopes and Laestrygonians. On this island, I found ruins that I believe were once the altar of Circe, the witch who turned Odysseus' sailors to swine."

"Why did you never publish your discoveries? The world would want to know that you found proof to your theory that Odysseus sailed along the coast of east Africa."

Faustino reclined in his chair. "My priorities changed. Years ago, deep in the rainforests of Mozambique, I met a woman. She showed me the struggles the people of my native Mozambique were going through during the civil war. She dedicated her life to serving them, and after the cyclones in 2005, I decided I would honor her, and spend my life doing the same."

"If you publish your work now, then maybe those assassins will stop trying to kill you. If everybody knows what you know, you will not be a threat to them anymore," Elena suggested.

"That is an interesting strategy, Elena," Faustino said as he stared at a map on the wall, "I am beginning to like having you around."

### Chapter 17

# Wadi Maghareh, South Sinai, Egypt

When Minori Sabuko exited her plane on a military airstrip near Cairo, she was immediately greeted by an Egyptian intelligence operative. His name was Husani Elmasry and he said he was a former colleague of Mohamed Malik, the rogue operative who attempted to assassinate President Faustino of Mozambique. Egyptian intelligence had been trying to track down Malik for years, but to date had been unsuccessful. They had yet to figure out who he was working for, and they did not have many leads.

Their best lead was found in Wadi Maghareh, the site of an ancient turquoise mine on the Sinai Peninsula. The Egyptian government had recently confiscated a safety deposit box linked to Malik. It was full of turquoise, as well as a notebook with geological maps of an unknown area. Elmasry traced the maps to Wadi Maghareh, and that is where he took Sabuko.

Elmasry and Sabuko were now riding in the backseat of a Toyota Land Cruiser SUV as the driver navigated the winding road leading down the mountains and into the valley.

"I am glad to be working with someone like you, Captain Makami," Elmasry said, using the fake alias Sabuko provided upon meeting him.

"Someone like me?" Sabuko asked.

"Someone from the international community," Elmasry clarified, "We tried to handle this internally, but we know Malik had outside help. Maybe you are the missing piece to solving the puzzle behind why he defected."

Sabuko looked out the window at the valley below.

"Why here? Why Wadi Maghareh?" Sabuko asked.

Elmasry cleared his throat. "We believe this is where Malik established contact with a terrorist cell, part of a highly elusive organization known as Parallax. They are known to base their operations around ancient ruins, and during the protests and regime change, Parallax established footholds near a number of archaeological sites in Egypt and Sinai."

The SUV came to a stop. Sabuko and Elmasry got out while the driver remained inside. Sabuko looked around. They were standing on the edge of a cliff overlooking a huge excavation operation. Thousands of workers operated machinery, lifting dirt and rock.

"I thought you said it was an _ancient_ mine," Sabuko said, raising an eyebrow.

"It _was_ an ancient mine, yes. But thanks to Emidio Faustino's research, we know the potential of this place. Those people down there are working to bring this area of the world into a new era of prosperity. And you will be joining them, to labor until the day you actually die, _Stygian_."

Sabuko's blood ran cold. She turned around to see the driver was now out of the SUV and had a Sig Sauer P320 pistol pointed at her head.

"Do not think about resisting. Your journey ends here," Elmasry said.

Sabuko looked at Elmasry, then at the driver with the pistol. Then she looked behind her, over the edge of the cliff.

Without hesitation, Sabuko leapt backwards off the cliff. She twisted in the air to position herself so that she was falling sideways facing down. Then she pulled a strap on her backpack that released a drag chute, followed by a BASE parafoil. In less than ten seconds, she had safely maneuvered to a landing spot.

A shrill alarm siren sounded across the excavation site. Sabuko squeezed the Capewells and discarded the parafoil. She heard distant shouts and engines starting as she ran towards the closest excavator. As she got near, the operator opened the door to the cabin and started shooting at her with an AK-74 submachine gun. The heavy equipment was still moving across rough terrain, so the bullets sailed wide of their target.

Sabuko charged full speed toward the excavator and jumped right onto the bucket. She was now shielded from the operator's gunfire. Then she felt the bucket start to move up, with her hanging onto it.

The operator raised the bucket as high as it would go and opened it. Right before Sabuko would have been thrown off, she jumped up from the bucket and grabbed onto the excavator arm. The operator's hands left the controls and fumbled for his gun, but by the time he got it Sabuko had climbed up the arm and into the cabin. She yanked the gun from his hands and kicked him out of the excavator as it continued to move.

A bulldozer moving at full speed slammed into the side of the excavator. Sabuko was thrown into the windshield from the collision. The excavator tipped precariously to one side, and the bulldozer continued to plow ahead. The bulldozer operator was pushing Sabuko towards the edge of another cliff. The edges of the mine were a series of manmade cliffs and roads descending into the earth. Sabuko could see the cliff's edge approaching fast through the cracked windshield of the excavator.

Sabuko crawled back into the operator's seat and shifted the excavator into reverse. The excavator spun around until it was side-by-side with the bulldozer, mere meters from the edge of the cliff. As the bulldozer passed, Sabuko fired the AK-74 into the cabin of the bulldozer. She saw blood spatter the windshield before the bulldozer drove over the edge of the cliff. Several seconds later, she heard it crash into the ground below.

The SUV with Elmasry and the gun-wielding driver pulled up next to the excavator. The driver took aim at Sabuko in the cabin of the excavator. Sabuko pulled a lever and the bucket, which had been raised high above the excavator, slammed down on top of the SUV, caving in its roof. The SUV swerved out of control, and into the path of the excavator treads. The entire front half of the SUV was crushed under the excavator treads.

Sabuko halted the excavator and jumped out onto the roof of the SUV. Elmasry was hanging through the window in the backseat, dazed from the impact. Sabuko grabbed him by the collar and pulled him out of the wrecked vehicle.

"You are working for the same people Malik was. Who are they?" Sabuko demanded.

"No. I am a member of Parallax, and we answer to no one. Malik paid us to do their dirty work, but we have other plans," Elmasry replied.

"Who was Malik working for? What did he pay you to do?" Sabuko asked.

"We are going to reclaim what was once ours," Elmasry said with a grin.

Elmasry's mouth began to foam and his eyes bulged. Without a second thought, Sabuko quickly put a bullet in his brain. Although the man betrayed her, she had no interest in watching him suffer from the gruesome effects of cyanide. Sabuko knew well that cyanide molars did not always succeed in killing their users. Sabuko shot Elmasry to make sure he died, and because she had no time to waste.

Vehicles were approaching her from multiple directions. The magazine of the AK-74 was nearly empty, and the SUV driver's P320 pistol had been lost in the collision with the excavator.

Sabuko ejected the AK-74 magazine and pressed the spring down to unload the bullets. Only three were left. As the dust clouds from the hostile vehicles got closer, Sabuko slid the three bullets one-by-one back into the magazine. Then she loaded the magazine into the submachine gun and racked a round into the chamber.

An SUV got into range. Sabuko took careful aim and fired all three rounds at its tires. One of the rounds hit its target, but the SUV did not slow. The tires were bulletproof.

Sabuko tossed the useless gun aside and clenched her fists. She was not going to bite a cyanide molar like Elmasry.

She was not going down without a fight.

### Chapter 18

# John F. Kennedy International Airport, New York City, United States

When Tom Nicks' plane touched down in New York, there was already a car waiting for him on the tarmac. As Nicks disembarked the aircraft, a tall, slim woman exited the vehicle and met him halfway.

"Tom Nicks. CEO of Stratos Defense, LLC. And still actively engaged in field operations. Admirable," the woman remarked.

"Yep, that is me," Nicks said, "And you are?"

"Maya Richardson. I am here on behalf of the United Nations. We are aware you are here to request a meeting with the President of the Security Council."

"Good guess," Nicks replied, eyes squinted and hair swept by the wind whipping across the vast tarmac.

"You will not be meeting with her. In fact, you will not be meeting with anyone on the Security Council ever again."

Nicks blinked, clearly in shock. Another gust of wind hit him right in the face.

Richardson smiled cordially. "I think we should step onto your jet and continue this conversation out of the elements."

Nicks and Richardson climbed back up the stairs to the Nicks' private jet. They sat down in lounge chairs facing each other. Richardson crossed her long, dark legs and leaned back into her seat.

"You may not be familiar with your, _now former_ , employer's history. You may only know that he always pays well over the market rate for your services. So let me enlighten you on exactly _how_ he came to power, and came into that huge fortune."

As Richardson talked, Nicks squirmed in his seat. He was hardened by decades of combat, unphased when staring down the barrel of an enemy rifle. But right now, this stunningly beautiful diplomat terrified him.

"Emidio Faustino was born in Mozambique, but at a young age, he fled the civil war with his family and moved to Paris. His father was already a real estate mogul, with lucrative holdings around the world. Faustino's father put him through elite boarding schools as well as Paris Voltaire University, where he earned a degree in Ancient History. But then he went against his father's wishes and joined the UN Peacekeepers.

"It was during one of his many deployments to the Middle East that you first crossed paths with him. He served the peaceful citizens of the world well. When he left the Peacekeepers, however, he did not return home. Instead, he travelled the Middle East and North Africa for years on an archaeological treasure hunt. When he was serving with the Peacekeepers in Kuwait during the Gulf War, he found something of historical significance, and he later chased that lead across three continents and all the way back to the land of his birth, Mozambique. Seems he finally put his history degree to use.

"He happened to arrive back in Mozambique right as the devastating cyclones of 2005 destroyed much of the infrastructure. Faustino, penniless from his treasure hunt, saw an alluring business opportunity, and saw it expedient to reconnect with his estranged father. He convinced his father to put up _all_ of his real estate companies as collateral for a loan large enough to rebuild Mozambique. The funds were not solely from one bank. Because of his father's diverse global holdings, Faustino was able to take out enormous loans from the reserve banks of five of the largest economies on earth.

"Faustino used the funds to start Noveu Ouro, a sprawling engineering and construction firm that rebuilt thousands of miles of roads in the first quarter of 2006 alone. Noveu Ouro accomplished its goal of stimulating and transforming the storm-battered country into the thriving mecca it is today. He accumulated even more wealth as he rose from benevolent businessman to President. But then, instead of repaying the loans in full, he decided to allow his father's entire real estate empire to be liquidated by the five governments he borrowed from. But even that did not cover the entire loans and interest.

"Your employer has been paying you with money he did not have. And that is why, in part, we have taken action to cut off his financial security blanket."

Nicks gasped. "The assassination attempts and the coup weren't orchestrated as part of a political agenda. You did it all in order to collect what he owed."

Richardson nodded. "Among other reasons. Which is why you now work for us exclusively. You will not be compensated nearly as much, because of course we have leverage. We know the true identities of each one of your Stygians. In fact, one of our subcontractors even captured one of them in South Sinai. Minori Sabuko, deceased 2011. We have been looking for her for a while."

Nicks gave her a cold stare. "You are not really with the UN, are you?"

Richardson smiled and said nothing.

"What do you want from me?" Nicks asked.

"You are going to rendezvous with your asset in Cairo. Then you two are going to deploy to Switzerland to take care of an... _annoying_ situation."

Richardson disembarked the jet and walked purposefully back to her car. Nicks watched her leave and then returned to the main cabin. He sat back down, sinking into his chair, his brows furrowed and face flushed with embarrassment.

### Chapter 19

# Calypso Island, two kilometers north of Faustino's mansion

Devlin moved warily through the jungle, knife in hand. He had no idea where he was going. He just knew he wanted to be as far from the beach as possible.

Images from the cave flashed through his mind. The horror on Ajay's face, when he awoke to find his limbs were gone. The twisted bodies of the seven women he killed. And the woman in white, whose haunting smile burned his eyes.

Devlin was jerked back to reality by the buzzing of a small, remote-controlled drone. The drone weaved through the trees until it was hovering right above him. Devlin looked up at its mounted camera.

Suddenly, a large stick sailed through the air and hit the drone, knocking it out of the sky. Devlin spun around to see where the stick came from, but saw nobody. With the realization he was not alone, he crouched and clenched his knife.

Silently, a man appeared right behind him and quickly disarmed him. He then pulled Devlin into a headlock with one arm, while holding the knife in his other hand. Devlin waited for the man to finish him off with the knife, but the killing blow never came.

The man released Devlin and he slumped to the ground. Devlin turned to see Cleyton Beete, the other member of the President's Elite Guard. Cleyton put a finger to his lips, then motioned for Devlin to follow him.

Cleyton led Devlin to the crashed drone. Wielding a rock, Cleyton quickly smashed the drone to pieces. Then he finally spoke.

"The drone may have had a microphone. I had to be sure," Cleyton said.

"Were you drugged too?" Devlin asked.

"Yes. I wandered the island for hours under the effects of the drug. When it wore off, I continued to explore. I know how to get back to the mansion. Once there, we can steal the president's yacht and escape. But that is not the only thing I found."

Cleyton pointed at a small device mounted on a tree ahead of them.

"Motion-activated thermal cameras. We used them in the park to monitor our large animals. And to find poachers."

Devlin looked around. "The drone. Motion-activated cameras. Someone is tracking us."

"The killers from the mansion," Cleyton said, "They are about 500 meters to our north, and closing in fast. They are only tracking _you_ though, since I have been navigating around every camera I see."

"What should we do?" Devlin asked.

Cleyton took the knife and started sharpening a long stick into a spear.

"We stand and fight. There is no use running. Their cameras are everywhere, and they know the island better than we do."

"All we have is a knife, and now a spear," Devlin said.

"We start by isolating one of them. Then we take his gun and fight back. You are going to be the bait to lure our target away from the pack."

Devlin nodded. "They do not know you are here. If they see me alone and unarmed, they will hopefully lower their guard just enough to not shoot me on sight."

Cleyton grinned. "Always the team player. That is our advantage. Take the knife and conceal it. We are going to intercept them at the hill 100 meters to our north."

Cleyton handed Devlin the knife.

"Welcome to my world, Devlin. Time to go hunting."

Cleyton disappeared into the jungle, leaving Devlin alone with the knife. Devlin took his advice and slid the knife into his waistband behind his back. With the knife concealed, he then moved north.

Devlin was not moving long before he saw them. There were four of them, each armed with Heckler & Koch UMP45 submachine guns. Devlin knew from his time in the Army that those guns were reserved for Special Forces.

The first gunman to see him immediately opened fire. Devlin dove behind a tree for cover. The plan had instantly fallen apart and it was time to improvise fast.

"I surrender!" Devlin shouted. "I am unarmed!"

"Where is the fun in that?" the man who fired at him taunted, "We are going to make this slow for you, one way or another."

"Then put down your gun and come get me," Devlin said, "I am right here."

The man looked to his companions. One of them waved him forward, while two more had their guns trained on the tree Devlin was hiding behind. The rest were further away, out of range.

With the approval of his team, the man advanced alone towards Devlin. Devlin held his breath, waiting for Cleyton to attack the man who had now been isolated from the rest. Devlin heard the man get closer and closer, but saw no sign of Cleyton.

The man leapt around the tree and landed with his weapon aimed square at Devlin's chest.

"Did you really think I would ditch the gun?" the man said, "You killed seven highly trained women, who were all armed while you initially were not. I am not taking any chances fighting you until I put a bullet in both your knees."

The man lowered his gun and took aim at Devlin's legs. Devlin cringed as he waited for him to pull the trigger.

Suddenly, shouts and gunshots erupted from behind them. The man jerked around to assess the threat. Devlin saw his chance and whipped the knife out of his waistband. He plunged the knife into the man's neck and took his gun in one smooth motion. Then he peeked around the tree to see where the shots were coming from.

Instead of attacking the isolated man who approached Devlin, Cleyton had circled around and attacked the two men who had their guns trained on Devlin's tree. With their attention fixed on Devlin, they were not ready when Cleyton launched his spear at one of them. The man died silently, giving Cleyton the window he needed to sprint forward and take his gun. Cleyton then opened fire and dispatched the other gunman nearby.

There was still one more gunman between Cleyton and Devlin. This man was more heavily armed, and appeared to be the leader of the squad. He saw his three fellow men die in quick succession and had to act quickly to avoid being next.

Devlin saw the man run for cover and started shooting. It had been a while since he fired an automatic weapon and he was not prepared for the recoil. Three rounds sailed harmlessly over the man's head as he ducked behind a tree. Devlin took a deep breath and steadied his aim, drawing a bead on the spot where he thought the man might stick his head out from behind cover.

Suddenly, Devlin started taking fire from above. The island security guard had managed to quickly scale the tree and was shooting down at Devlin from a branch 4 meters above the ground. Devlin felt the bullets zip past his face and flinched, knowing he was done. Time slowed as he realized he was defeated, out of his element in this island jungle facing a Special Forces operative.

The bullets stopped flying around Devlin. He looked up and saw the island security guard fall from his branch and land face first on the ground. The man had a wooden spear embedded deep in his back.

Devlin ran up to Cleyton, who flashed him a wink. Without exchanging words, they quickly scavenged all the weapons and ammunition they could carry from the bodies of the four gunmen.

"There are still four more," Cleyton said.

As if on cue, a hail of bullets peppered the ground and shredded the jungle foliage around them. Devlin and Cleyton went prone to the ground and returned fire. The bullets were coming from directly ahead, but the gunmen were still out of view. The men shooting at Devlin and Cleyton were very accurate, as if they had X-ray vision.

Devlin and Cleyton made sure to conserve bullets, firing sporadically through the jungle in the general direction the bullets were coming from. They had to place just enough rounds near their attackers that the men would be forced to stop shooting and seek cover.

The bullets stopped flying momentarily.

Devlin and Cleyton got up off the ground fast and ran to take cover behind a large boulder at the bottom of a rocky outcrop. It was the same white stone present all over the island. When they took cover, Cleyton looked back to see the tree closest to them had something mounted to it: a motion-activated camera, angled directly at them.

"Move!" Cleyton yelled.

Devlin and Cleyton took off running towards another boulder right as an explosion rocked the spot where they were just taking cover. They kept running and dove behind another boulder, and another barrage of automatic gunfire rained down on them from above.

Four figures stood atop the outcrop each wielding UMP45 submachine guns. Once Devlin and Cleyton were suppressed, three of the squad spread out and started to descend the hill, while the fourth one remained in place to provide covering fire. It was the same combat maneuver that the other four-man squad had performed. But this time, Cleyton and Devlin no longer had the element of surprise.

Cleyton motioned for Devlin to flank around the right side. Devlin broke off while Cleyton stuck his gun out from behind the boulder to provide covering fire. Devlin managed to get to position just in time to see one of the men pull the pin from an HG 85 fragmentation grenade and lob it over the rock Cleyton was behind.

Cleyton saw the grenade and jumped away just as it detonated. Some of the shrapnel from the grenade tore into Cleyton's legs and torso. Wounded, he stumbled over to a tree to find cover.

To Devlin's amazement, as soon as Cleyton reached the tree, it was uprooted by some invisible force and crashed to the ground, leaving Cleyton exposed. The three distant gunmen unloaded at Cleyton. At their range, the submachine guns were inaccurate, but their high volume of fire resulted in multiple hits. Severely wounded, Cleyton managed to crawl and find refuge behind the trunk of the fallen tree.

Cleyton still remained in the fight. As he gasped for breath, he waited for the gunmen to get closer, watching their feet from the tiny gap between the tree's trunk and the ground. Then, with his one good arm, he raised his submachine gun over the tree and fired blind at one of the men. Several bullets hit their target and one of the men flew backward as blood sprayed from his wounds.

The other two men took cover. When Cleyton stopped firing they regrouped and renewed their approach. One of them fired at the fallen tree Cleyton was behind, while the other pulled a pin from a second grenade and prepared to throw it.

Devlin leapt out of hiding to shoot the man before he could throw the grenade. But to Devlin's surprise, the man turned around and threw the grenade at him instead. He sensed Devlin behind him as if he had eyes in the back of his head.

The grenade fell right next to Devlin. He had no time to run. So instead, he dove _towards_ the grenade.

Devlin grabbed the grenade and threw it back in the direction of the attacker. Before it reached the man, it exploded in midair, launching his body backwards. The man's body flew and fell onto a boulder down the hill, blood spattering from the impact.

The gunman closest to Cleyton turned around and started shooting at Devlin. Devlin rolled out of the way and took cover behind a tree. He looked up to see another motion-activated camera fastened to the tree.

"No fair," Devlin said.

A single gunshot rang out, and Devlin heard a body collapse. He peaked out of cover to see the approaching gunman was dead, and behind the body was Cleyton, holding a submachine gun with one hand.

With three more gunmen dispatched, Devlin ran over to Cleyton.

"Good shot," Devlin said.

"Thanks," Cleyton replied.

Devlin surveyed Cleyton's wounds. His body was riddled with shrapnel and gunshot wounds. If he did not get treatment soon, his chances of survival were slim.

"Are you still with me?" Devlin asked.

"For now," Cleyton groaned.

The ground beneath their feet vibrated. They heard the sound of earth breaking, and tree limbs snapping. They looked above them to see _another_ tree come crashing down on its own. Devlin leapt out of the way just in time. The colossal tree barely missed Devlin but fell directly on top of Cleyton, crushing him to death.

As the debris settled, Devlin got back up. He looked over at the base of the fallen tree that had just killed Cleyton. There were thick braided steel cables fixed to what appeared to be the larger roots of the tree. The entire ground began to shake, and the cables were slowly pulled underground. The cables slowly pulled the entire tree up again, erecting it as if it had never fallen.

Devlin looked up at the top of the hill. The last of the eight men remaining stood above him. Devlin could tell by his height that it was Octavius, head of island security. He held a large tablet in his hands and was holding it with one hand while typing commands with the other. Octavius looked down at Devlin and his lips broke into a malevolent grin.

Devlin heard the creaking and groaning of trees all around him. It sounded like the entire forest was preparing to fall on top of him. With nowhere to hide, he decided to make a fool's gambit and charge straight ahead up the hill.

As Devlin passed the body of the grenadier, he took one of the explosives from the dead man's vest. Then he pulled the pin and immediately tossed the grenade up towards Octavius.

Octavius saw the grenade land near him and dropped the tablet. He reached over to grab the live grenade and throw it back before its fuse ignited the charge inside. He managed to succeed and throw the grenade back at Devlin. But by then Devlin was running full speed up the hill as the grenade rolled past him downhill and went off harmlessly behind him.

By dropping the tablet, Octavius halted the process of mechanically felling the trees. This gave Devlin the time he needed to reach the top of the hill and escape the deadly jungle.

Octavius reached for the tablet to resume the process, but he was too late. He realized how close Devlin was and quickly grabbed his UMP45 from its shoulder sling. But Devlin already held his gun at the ready position, and he squeezed the trigger as he ran directly at Octavius. The first few rounds went high, since he was moving fast as he fired. Octavius instinctively dropped to one knee to avoid the bullets, and aimed his weapon at Devlin.

Devlin dove forward onto the ground just as Octavius started firing. The bullets narrowly passed over Devlin's head. By diving to the ground, Devlin made himself a smaller target, causing Octavius's first bullets to miss. Devlin had just enough time to lock onto his target, who was kneeling. Devlin, pressed the gun's stock into his shoulder, held his breath, and unleashed a volley of bullets at Octavius. One round hit Octavius in the shoulder and another sent blood spraying from his head.

Devlin's gambit paid off. He walked over to Octavius to make sure he was dead. When Devlin stood over him, he saw that the bullet had only grazed Octavius's head and taken off his ear. Octavius sprang into action and kicked Devlin's feet out from under him.

Devlin fell backward and his head hit the rocky ground hard. He was dazed as Octavius jumped on top of him and started punching him in the face with his uninjured arm. Octavius pinned both of Devlin's arms with his knees, leaving Devlin unable to block the punches.

However, while Devlin's upper arms and shoulders were pinned, his lower arms and hands still had limited motion. Devlin brought his hand over to his waistband and removed his knife. Devlin stabbed the knife into Octavius's calf and he yelled in pain, jerking his leg up. Now Devlin had a full range of motion with his knife hand, and he used it to stab the knife into Octavius's side, between his ribs. Octavius crumpled over, and Devlin crawled away to reach for his submachine gun lying on the rock. He grabbed the gun and pulled the trigger, but heard only a _click_. Devlin's heart nearly stopped as he realized the magazine was empty.

Luckily for Devlin, Octavius was still writhing around in pain. Devlin took his time to carefully load a fresh magazine into the UMP45, then aimed it at Octavius's head as the man rocked on the ground while clutching his side. Devlin pulled the trigger at close range, and this time he did not miss.

Devlin slung the gun over his shoulder and slowly got to his feet. His nose was broken and blood flowed freely. He ripped off the rest of Octavius's tattered shirt and held it to his face to stop the bleeding.

He looked back down at the destruction below him. Every tree in that section of forest had fallen. But when he looked closer, he saw that some of the trees had been split open on impact, and they were not actually trees.

He could see exposed plastic in the hollow cores of some of the trees, as well as more thick metal cables and winches running through them. The overturned soil revealed more thick cables attached to the fake trees, as well as part of the giant motors powering the cables.

The men had funneled Devlin and Cleyton into a kill plot with hidden cameras and trees they could fell on command. Just like in the cave, the odds were stacked against him, but somehow Devlin prevailed.

Devlin heard a voice behind him and spun around, submachine gun at the ready. But the voice was only coming from Octavius's tablet on the ground.

It was Faustino's voice that came out of the tablet's speakers. "Octavius! Status report! Did you kill the traitor?"

Devlin walked over to the tablet and knelt down. He removed the shirt from his face and blood dripped down onto the tablet's screen.

"Octavius is dead. Along with the rest of your Special Forces goons. And I was never a traitor. But now I have to kill you."

The tablet display changed and Faustino's face appeared on the screen.

"Devlin Pascoal! I knew you would survive. You and Ikbal passed all of the trials of the island. Calypso is nothing more than a training ground, where those who survive become _truly_ elite warriors. Come to the mansion and you will join the ranks of my most prized protectors."

Devlin had tears rolling down his cheeks. "I joined the Elite Guard to protect you. Now I see that her evil has clouded your mind so much that there is no salvation for you. I thought I killed her, but her witchcraft was too powerful. She is still alive, on this island, whispering lies into your ear."

Faustino looked confused. "Who are you talking about, Pascoal? Who do you think is controlling me?"

"Her sorcery is everywhere! She poisoned my thoughts to give me nightmares while I was awake. I saw her rise from the dead, and she forced me to kill women against my will. She has been haunting me my entire life, and she cannot die. It is a terrible existence. You have let her get too close to you. The only way to save you from the same fate as mine is to kill you."

Faustino started pacing, taking the tablet with him as he moved. He seemed to be deep in thought. Then he stopped pacing and looked at the camera.

"Look at me, Devlin. There is no witchcraft. The women you killed were trained operators that were ordered to test your combat skills. Ajay did not pass the test. This witch you speak of is all in your mind, a side effect of the hallucinogen you were given. The drug was a test of your mental strength. If you come to the mansion, I can help you. I will give you medicine, so that she will go away."

Devlin got even more incensed.

"No!" he screamed, "I am never taking her medicine again! She lied to me. She lied to all of us. She said it was safe."

Devlin broke down and started sobbing. It was all too much. The island was cursed and he knew he would never escape. There was only one thing he could do.

He was going to burn this place to the ground.

### Chapter 20

# Kitchen, Second Story of Faustino's mansion, Calypso Island

Faustino replayed the recording of his conversation with Devlin Pascoal on his security tablet.

"Her evil has clouded your mind so much that there is no salvation for you."

Devlin Pascoal had fought through the effects of a drug known to break people's minds forever. He killed seven highly trained assassins by himself, before eliminating all eight members of the Stratos Defense strike force that had never seen a casualty in six years of protecting Faustino's life. Faustino smiled. The man proved his merit. Maybe Devlin would regain his composure by the time he reached the mansion. Faustino could reason with him and assure him that it was all a test.

"There is no salvation for you."

It was never intended to be a test. Faustino brought the Presidential Elite Guard to Calypso Island to kill them all after the terrorist attack on the beach. He had done the same two months earlier with the previous members of the Presidential Elite Guard, after the murder in his penthouse suite of the Olympia Hotel. Faustino had known that there was at still least one traitor among his Elite Guard, as well as a broad conspiracy against him by foreign governments. But Devlin seemed to be obsessed with a witch controlling Faustino, and was now trying to kill him out of delusion.

Faustino sighed and set the tablet next to a pot of boiling water. Then he returned to the steamed fish he was preparing. He sprinkled spices on top of the fish and vegetables, then leaned over the pan to take in the aroma. He grabbed the handle of the pan and lightly stirred the dish.

Satisfied, Faustino transferred the steamed fish onto two plates. Then he brought the plates out of the kitchen and into the dining hall, where Elena Ruiz was waiting.

"Our staff has taken a leave of absence," Faustino explained as he set one of the plates in front of Elena, "I hope my cooking will suffice."

Faustino sat down and began working on his own plate. Elena slowly took a bite of fish.

"It is excellent," Elena said timidly.

They ate in silence for a while.

As they were finishing their meal, the door to the dining room burst open. Alarmed, Faustino immediately leapt from his chair and drew his 1911 pistol. He aimed the pistol at the open door, waiting for whoever kicked it open to enter the room.

"Put the gun down, Emidio," came a woman's voice from outside the door, "It is just me."

"You know me too well, Laela," Faustino said as he set the pistol down on the dining room table.

A slim woman in a tall white dress entered the room. She entered slowly, dragging a body behind her. With little effort, she dragged the body all the way to Faustino and left it at his feet.

"Laela, my beauty. You must have had at least some trouble with his one, no?" Faustino raised an eyebrow.

"Men are predictable," Laela replied as she turned to leave.

"Elena, would you mind joining her outside? I apologize for the inconvenience." Faustino said, shifting his attention to his new guest.

Elena nodded and quickly left the room, leaving Faustino alone with the man on the ground. The man was still alive, not unconscious, but experiencing the onset of full-body paralysis.

"Ikbal, my old friend," Faustino said, "What shall I do with you?"

"... _You...are..._ "

Ikbal choked out the words, his face and neck severely strained. His wide, bloodshot eyes looked up at Faustino.

"... _You...are playing...alone."_

Faustino crouched down closer to Ikbal's face.

"You think I have become so paranoid that I will take my own life. That the assassination attempts have forced me down the far wall of the squash court, and into the dark corners of my mind. You assume the foreign conspirators never had a third assassination attempt planned, and instead were betting all along that my characteristic paranoia would lead me to purge everyone around me, before eventually killing myself. Ikbal, my old friend, you could not be further from the truth."

Faustino stood up and grabbed a bottle of aged whiskey. He returned to Ikbal and poured himself a glass of the liquor.

"My legacy is as permanent as stone. My mark has been made on Mozambique, and on the world. It is time to leave this place behind, and start a new chapter in my life. But first, I need to tie up some loose ends."

Faustino swirled the glass near his face and savored the aroma of the whiskey.

"I received a message from your boss, Tom Nicks, that Stratos will no longer do business with me. That means you are no longer obligated to serve as a sleeper agent in my Elite Guard. Congratulations, Ikbal, you are free."

Faustino raised his glass and downed the finely aged whiskey in one gulp.

"But Nicks also informed me that several intelligence agencies have knowledge of your whereabouts now, as well as your true identity. The UN has renewed their war crime charges against you from 2003, and has added another charge related to faking your death to escape their punishment."

Faustino set his empty glass on the table while keeping the whiskey bottle in his grasp.

"They will find you, and they will make you testify. And you only have one bargaining chip to use, and that bargaining chip is me. You will implicate me in the charges of torturing prisoners in Afghanistan. Of course, I cannot let you do that."

Faustino crouched down again. He grabbed Iqbal's chin with his free hand and pried his mouth open. Ikbal was now almost completely paralyzed, so he could not resist.

Ikbal's eyes conveyed terror as Faustino tilted the neck of the bottle over Ikbal's open mouth. Then the expensive liquor flowed out, into his mouth and down his throat. Faustino kept pouring, the whiskey coming out Iqbal's nose and spilling over his face and onto the floor.

Faustino emptied the entire bottle, then tossed it aside. Ikbal's eyes were glazed over. With his airways blocked, the liquor suffocated him.

Faustino straightened up and returned to his seat. He took another bite of his fish, but it was now cold. He pushed the plate away. Then he turned his gaze to his pistol resting on the table.

Faustino admired his golden gun. The pistol was recently assembled, but with the same effective design that was essentially unchanged since the gun was first introduced in 1911.

Faustino holstered the pistol. Then he took the partially eaten plates of steamed fish back to the kitchen for disposal.

### Chapter 21

# Second story of Faustino's mansion, Calypso Island

Laela walked down the hallway, then turned and waited for Elena Ruiz to catch up to her.

"He will never let you leave," Laela told her in a hushed tone.

"I am confident he will, and soon," Elena whispered back.

Laela sighed, giving her a sad look.

"He loves to hear the sound of his own voice, so he needs someone by his side to talk to. I used to be that someone. When I was younger, I listened to his stories and I overlooked his insecurities, even though I knew that he never loved me.

"I know him better than anybody. He sees himself as a master manipulator, but in reality, he is just a lucky improviser. And this time, his foolish antics cost the lives of my entire unit. That small part of me that still loved him is now gone forever.

"In that room, he is killing a man he has known for two decades. That is almost as long as he has known your father. That relationship does not guarantee your safety. You need to get off this island, and I want to help you."

Elena looked back at the door to the dining room. It remained shut, and it was far enough away that Faustino could not hear their conversation from inside.

Laela took Elena's hand and filled her palm with a green powder.

"This is a powerful _anticholergenic_ chemical, extracted from a plant native to the island. It is the same one I used to knock out the man I dragged into the dining room just now. All you have to do is hold it in your hand and blow it in Faustino's face. He will lose muscle control instantly. Make sure you breathe in with your hand away from your face, or the drug will incapacitate you. Do this, then bring the golden pistol to me, and I will tell you how to escape this island."

Elena closed her palm around the powder.

"Why does it have to be me?" Elena asked.

"I cannot get close enough to him. He knows me, and does not trust me. He knows you are unarmed, and so far, he thinks you are sympathetic to him. As soon as you are near him, blow the powder in his face. The drug will do the rest."

Elena resolvedly turned and walked back down the hallway to the dining hall. She entered and the door slipped close behind her.

Laela patiently waited for a few minutes. The door opened again, and Laela held her breath. If it was Faustino, and he had foiled her attempt to incapacitate him, she needed to disappear fast.

Instead, it was Elena. She held Faustino's custom gold 1911 pistol in one hand, finger off the trigger, carefully pointing it at the ground as she walked. She reached Laela and handed her the pistol. Laela used a cloth to wipe the rest of the paralyzing powder from Elena's hand.

"How can I get out of here?" Elena said with newfound determination in her voice.

"I read your file. You have a Helicopter Private Pilot's License. The helicopter that brought you here is still on the helipad. All you need to do is get there and you are home free. Now, do you know the way from here back to Faustino's office?"

Elena nodded. "Two flights of stairs, then across the courtyard, one more flight of stairs, door at the far end of the hallway."

"Good," Laela said, "Inside, there is a stone statue. It is attached to a lever in the floor that unlocks a hidden door on the wall behind it. Move the statue, push the wall, and the door will open, leading you to a secret elevator that goes from the office directly up to the helipad."

"Thank you," Elena said before running for the staircase.

Laela walked in the opposite direction, back to the dining hall. She entered and found Faustino on the floor, paralyzed next to Ikbal's dead body. She forced his mouth open and slipped him the antidote to the anticholergenic toxin. Just enough for him to talk, but not enough for him to move.

"I should have taken your head off at Praia do Wimbe. Instead, I saved your life and shot the terrorist's outboard boat engine. But all this could have ended days ago. You would be dead, and the brave women who died on this island to protect you would still be alive."

Laela leveled the pistol at Faustino's head. "Any last words?"

"I did not kill your mother," Faustino said, fear in his eyes, "I did not kill Nura."

"Yes, you did. Your greed for power pushed her away. You were jealous and vindictive when she refused to bear you a son. And it is obvious that you murdered her in your penthouse suite just to prove to everybody that you could get away with it."

"I loved your mother," Faustino replied, "We grew apart, but I was never jealous. She inspired me to help so many people. And I am grateful for every day since she brought you into my life, Laela. I know who killed her. Watch the recording on the tablet in the kitchen."

Laela almost pulled the trigger. She wanted to do it, but she was curious about the recording that Faustino mentioned.

She went to the kitchen, got the tablet, and replayed Faustino's conversation with Devlin Pascoal. Then she came back into the dining room.

Laela spoke. "In the cave, Devlin said that he killed me already. He must have thought I was Mother reincarnated. Because we look so similar, and she always looked so young. He said he killed Mother because he thought she was a witch. Then, after her body was found in your penthouse, he must have known he would be promoted when you predictably purged your Presidential Elite Guard two months ago. He said he wanted to save you from her. But now I am going to have to save _you_ from _him_."

Laela turned to leave.

"Wait," Faustino begged, "Give me more of the antidote. Let me help."

Laela scowled at him.

"Father," she said, "how many more men do I have to kill before you trust me to do my job?"

Laela moved on from the dining hall back to the staircase outside. She climbed the staircase all the way to the top and exited onto the roof of the mansion. She ran across the roof until she found herself overlooking the glass canopy of the atrium pool.

"Predictable, as always," she said to herself.

Two stories below her, on the pool deck, Devlin Pascoal stood. He was armed to the teeth, after scavenging weapons from the dead Stratos operators. Now he was retracing his steps through the mansion, starting in the last place he remembered before the drugs took over his brain. Laela had anticipated his path, and she had already prepared a special package for him.

Using aluminum foil and cleaning supplies from the kitchen, she crafted a makeshift chlorine bomb. Chlorine was one of the halogens, a group of elements that were one electron shy of having a full outer valence shell, and therefore constantly exerting force to attract an electron from any other element nearby. This meant chlorine could become highly reactive under the right conditions.

Modern witchcraft required an intimate knowledge of chemistry and physics, and now Laela was very close to creating the right conditions for chlorine volatilization inside a confined space. There were only two things missing: water, and chlorine.

Luckily for her, there was an abundance of both two stories below.

In order to get her wine bottle bomb through the glass and into the pool, she needed a little help from her target below.

Laela fired two shots from the pistol down at Devlin through the glass. The bullets made clean holes in the thick glass, which held together and barely even cracked. Devlin spun around and immediately identified the source of the shots. He unleashed a spray of automatic gunfire from one of his scavenged UMP45 submachine guns.

Devlin's bullets cracked the glass extensively, but it still held. Laela, ducked out of his line of fire. Then she fired two more shots into the glass, with no intention of hitting Devlin. Devlin responded with another barrage of bullets that was enough to finally shatter the glass, sending shards raining down and splashing into the pool from above. The gunfire left behind a perfectly rectangular opening between the metal beams of the atrium roof.

Laela tossed the chlorine bomb through the opening and then took off running. The bomb hit the pool, where the water and aluminum reacted with the chlorine and volatilized it. The small volume capacity in the wine bottle left little room for the rapid gas expansion that resulted from the chemical reaction. Pressure and heat built inside the wine bottle as the exothermic reaction took place. Finally, the wine bottle broke, releasing an enormous amount of energy. The size of the explosion was magnified by the subsequent contact between the contents of the wine bottle the large volume of water and chlorine in the pool.

Devlin's body was instantly vaporized by the blast. Unfortunately, Laela did not get the chance to see any of it, because the forceful explosion launched her off her feet and into the air. She landed hard on an adjacent rooftop several meters away. Still recovering from the impact, she then slid down the sloped roof and fell into the courtyard.

She willed herself to get to her feet as the mansion began to collapse behind her. She hobbled away, hindered by a broken collarbone, several shattered ribs, and a fractured left tibia. The ground began to collapse behind her, the courtyard falling victim to the massive damage from the makeshift bomb.

The destruction of the courtyard slowed and eventually halted. Laela collapsed to the ground right next to a precipice overlooking the void left by the collapse of nearly half of the mansion. A pile of rubble was now resting in the cavern that was formerly the mansion's underground levels. She looked down at the stone statues of male warriors protruding from the wreckage. Her father was buried along with them, beneath the rubble.

She called out his name and started trying to overturn slabs of stone. She had not expected her bomb would cause so much destruction. She heard no response from her father. There was too much debris. She clambered over heavy chunks of reinforced concrete, screaming for him till her voice was hoarse.

She collapsed to the ground, exhausted. She had hope that she would find Faustino eventually, or that the paralytic chemical she gave him would wear off and he could dig himself out. But deep down, she knew he was gone.

Devlin Pascoal was right. There was no salvation for her father.

### Chapter 22

# Pointe Au Sel, Seychelles

Elena Ruiz sat on the rock-littered beach, staring out into the blue water. It was low tide, and protruding from the sea were the rotors of the helicopter she crash-landed near shore. Beyond the rotors, a yacht motored toward the beach.

An hour later, Elena was joined on the beach by her mother, Quya Puyucahua Ruiz. She approached slowly, then sat down on a nearby rock behind Elena.

"I can understand why you would not want to come back with us," Quya said, "But family is all we have. Evil men put enormous pressure on your father, and that led to you being put in danger. That is why it is important you return home, where we can make sure you are safe."

Elena snorted. "Let me guess. He wants to offer me a position in the company again."

"Your father wanted you to take a break and spend some time in Lima. Once you think things over for a while, you can decide what is best. But we really hope you'll decide to stay near home."

Elena turned around to face her mother.

"You know I would rather die than stay at home in Lima."

Quya smiled. Then she pointed at the yacht offshore.

"Jaime came here too. He has a spot for you that is well outside corporate. You can be an engineering apprentice on his flagship, the largest oil tanker in South America. He has all the paperwork on board his yacht. And he brought _Manco Inca_ here because he knows that, from a young age, you always loved the sea. His personal yacht is yours to captain, and you can take as long as six months to return it back to its home port of Lima."

Quya handed Elena a set of keys.

"What do you say, _Captain_?" Quya asked with a wry grin.

Elena admired the keys to Jaime Victoriano's yacht.

"I accept Jaime's offer," Elena said.

She stood up and walked along the beach with her mother. As they walked together silently, her mother slowly got closer. Then she reached out and took Elena's hand.

"I am so glad you are safe now," Quya said.

### Chapter 23

# Maputo, Mozambique

Martial law was still in effect in the capital. After the assassination of General Salinas, security had doubled down. The curfew restrictions were tightened, and businesses closed. Food was provided at designated times in military-operated facilities around the city.

Detective Nazir Cadre, along with the entire police force, was put on indefinite leave. Cadre spent his days asleep, and his nights covertly working to solve the murder of the woman in the presidential suite, along with help from the pathologist Dinho Loureiro. They made sure to cover their tracks. It was a politically sensitive case at a particularly uneasy time, and after they solved the case, they vowed never to reveal their answers to anyone until the turmoil in the capital ended.

One day, Cadre's worst fears were realized. Soldiers came to his house and crammed him into a vehicle. He was now on his way to a military facility. He had been told nothing.

The vehicle stopped in front of a large tent and Cadre was escorted through the entrance. The tent was identical to dozens erected around the city by the military as command posts. Cadre had always wondered what went on inside them.

Cadre saw soldiers sitting intently in front of several screens showing views from cameras at street intersections. He also saw crates of weapons and ammunition. A soldier operated a radio to coordinate with troops in the vicinity.

Cadre was taken to a separate room within the tent. There, he saw Loureiro and a high-ranking military officer. Cadre suspected the worst: that he and Loureiro were going to be interrogated about the murder case and then killed to cover it up.

The military officer spoke. "I apologize that I do not have any seats for you. We will have to conduct this meeting standing. I hope you do not mind."

"No sir," Cadre said. Loureiro shook his head.

"My name is Lieutenant General Cardim. I assumed command after the assassination of General Salinas. It is a shame that _someone_ tipped off former president Faustino's operatives about Salinas's location and his plans to take over the government."

As Cardim spoke, he paced around Cadre and Loureiro, as if he were a wolf circling its prey.

"I brought you both here because I would like to reopen the murder case of Nura Faustino."

Cadre and Loureiro were shocked. Lieutenant General Cardim smiled.

"Detective Cadre, I have forwarded to your office the evidence that the government agents loyal to Faustino tried to hide. The camera footage and employee information from the hotel on the night of the murder. And the victim's identity and relationship to the president, which was kept hidden from the public for years. Along with the evidence and testimony provided by the two policemen who processed the crime scene, there will be enough to convict the former president of murdering his wife."

Loureiro spoke up. "With all due respect, sir. We have already solved the case. We were investigating it on our own time."

Lieutenant General Cardim raised an eyebrow. "Really? Then you have collected even more evidence against Faustino?"

Cadre's eyes pleaded to Loureiro to show restraint. But Loureiro did not get the message, and began to tell Cardim everything.

"The killing was not politically motivated at all. The murderer developed his motive to kill Nura Faustino before she ever met the president. He was once a boy that Nura tested chemicals on as she tried to develop a drug from plants in the Mount Mabu rainforest. She had a village of civil war refugees, all children, whom she raised and experimented on. The boy was traumatized by his experience and he tried to kill her once on Mount Mabu before running away from the refugee village. He later joined the Army, had a distinguished record, and after the murder in the penthouse suite he was promoted to the Presidential Elite Guard. His name is Devlin Pascoal.

"In the days leading up to her murder, Nura Faustino must have been contacted by Pascoal. He set up a meeting at the hotel, then broke into her room using a key he obtained from a hotel employee, and murdered Nura. We think that the chemical he killed her with was a precursor to the wonder drug she developed to reverse aging, a drug she never released to the public. A chemical in her blood was matched to a sample we extracted from a fungus on Mount Mabu, consumed on occasion by the local villagers. The fungus is so rare that Nura Faustino must have been able to produce only enough of her wonder drug with it to treat herself.

"We believe that the killer was disturbed by his experiences as a child, and that he thought Nura was evil and had supernatural powers. He performed the ritual with the blood and pig bones in order to keep her spirit from haunting him. A somewhat similar ritual is performed at funerals in the villages surrounding Mount Mabu, in order to help guide the spirit to the afterlife."

Lieutenant General Cardim let out a sigh of discomfort.

"That is not the outcome I was expecting. Perhaps you and the detective overlooked some something, Mr. Loureiro. Detective Cadre, I implore you to analyze the evidence I have sent to your office. I hope you will realize that you have made a mistake."

"Yes sir," Detective Cadre said quickly, and he spun around to leave the tent. As Loureiro got up to follow him, two soldiers grabbed Loureiro by the arms.

"As for you, Louriero, your expertise as a pathologist will no longer be needed. The victim's body was stolen from the morgue as soon as you handed over the case to government agents loyal to Faustino."

Loureiro tried to protest as the soldiers dragged him away. Cadre looked down, avoiding eye contact with Loureiro as he was taken out of the room. Then he was dismissed by Lieutenant General Cardim, and he quickly got up, spun around, and left.

Once Cadre was outside the tent, he started walking to the police station, which was not far. The soldiers stationed in the street let him pass.

Cadre's mind was racing. But he was not thinking about Loureiro's terrible fate, or that his own precarious situation depended on helping Lieutenant General Cardim depose President Faustino.

There was only one thing on his mind.

Where was the murder victim's body?

### Epilogue

# Beneath Faustino's Mansion, Calypso Island

Laela watched the buttons in the elevator light up as she descended beneath Faustino's mansion. The elevator finally came to a stop when the lowest button was lit: the button that was printed with the letters 'LAB'.

The elevator doors opened and Laela pushed a heavy cart out of the elevator and into a brightly lit laboratory. There were rows of benches with glass beakers and machines, as well as cabinets stocked with a plethora of chemicals.

Sitting at one of the lab benches, alive, was Nura Faustino.

Laela pushed the heavy cart over to her mother.

"The earthquake shattered a lot of glass. We need to order some new lab equipment," Nura said.

"That was not an earthquake. I blew up half the mansion," Laela told her.

"Well thank goodness you are alright. And that the lab was not destroyed," Nura said.

"I might have killed Father," Laela said, "I think he is buried in the rubble."

Nura did not react.

"Let me finish up here. Then, I will help you look for your father."

Laela started opening a large insulated container on the cart that she brought.

"Does the name Devlin Pascoal mean anything to you?" Laela asked.

Nura cocked her head and smiled wistfully.

"I have not heard that name for years. He was one of the refugees in my village on Mount Mabu. He ran away after he pushed me off a ledge and left me for dead."

"He was on this island," Laela said, "He killed nearly the entire security force. He told Father that he killed you, and Father thought Devlin meant he was the one who murdered you in the hotel. But Devlin was talking about the day when he was a kid, when he pushed you off the cliff on Mount Mabu."

"Is that him?" Nura asked, pointing at the open container on the cart.

"No, his body was lost in the explosion. This is one of his friends, Ajay Patel."

Laela lifted a bundle wrapped in butcher paper from the container and set it on the benchtop in front of her mother. Nura unwrapped the butcher paper to reveal one of Ajay's arms. Nura put on face protection and then used a bone saw to slice through the arm. Laela stood back to avoid the blood spatter.

At the Olympia Hotel, Nura had been the one to order the pig bones and blood. Such a strange order was not questioned, since it came from the penthouse belonging to the President of Mozambique, who was also the owner of the hotel. She tied the bones to the bed canopy and poured the blood all over the bed. She also was the one who made the rope out of the canopy drapes and tied it to the balcony railing. Every element of the crime scene was placed in order to mislead the police.

Nura Faustino eloped in secret with Emidio Faustino before he was president. They met when Faustino was deployed to Mozambique as a member of UN Peacekeeping Forces during the Mozambique civil war. When he learned that Nura's daughter was his, he returned to Mozambique. Later, he would start Noveu Ouro help rebuild the country following the 2005 cyclones.

She never wanted him to run for President. But Faustino's ego grew along with the success of his humanitarian organization. She thought that he had changed since his war days. But he had grown more ruthless, and after he survived the attempt on his life by President Campos, Nura watched the last remnant of humanity fade from Emidio Faustino.

She told herself that she could continue to be a part of his life. But over time, her love for him turned to fear. She felt that she had no choice other than to die.

There was a rare fungus that grew only on the trees in the Mount Mabu rainforest. It was harvested by the nearby villages for medicinal uses. If someone were to ingest too much of the fungus at once, they would go into cardiac arrest and die. However, if someone ingested a precise amount of the active chemical in the fungus, they would go into a state that appeared to be cardiac arrest, but they would still be alive. The effects of the fungus would wear off after a period of twelve to eighteen hours, and the person could wake up and walk away.

Nura faked her death in Emidio Faustino's penthouse suite so that he would be the prime suspect in her murder. With him in jail, she would finally be free.

In the laboratory, Nura finished cutting through the severed arm on the bench top. She then used a large syringe to extract bone marrow from the cleanly cut humerus. She transferred the marrow from the syringe to a bowl, and repeated the process until the all of the bone marrow was removed.

She then put a spoon in the bowl and offered it to Laela.

"You should have some too. It works best when it is fresh."

Laela shook her head in disgust.

"I have no desire to look young forever. Besides, this is all I could harvest. You are going to need all of it."

Laela turned and walked back to the elevator. Behind her, she could hear the spoon scraping the bowl as her mother devoured its contents. Her mother's cure for aging was simple. It had nothing to do with a wonder drug. It only involved a healthy diet of human bone marrow.

Laela got into the elevator and pressed the button for the third floor. The elevator doors closed and she exhaled. As the elevator ascended, Laela breathed in deeply. It did not matter to her that the air in the elevator was recycled and stale. It was clean, and she had enough of the stench of death.

### Postscript

Stone Skin takes place in an alternate timeline. All characters are entirely fictional. The context of actual world events are included, such as the late twentieth century civil war in Mozambique and early twenty-first century regime change in Egypt. The story also contains events that occur only in fiction, including the destruction of Mozambique's infrastructure by three massive cyclones in 2005 and the ancient hydrogeologic events across the Sinai Peninsula.

For clarity, the sequence of ancient and modern events referenced in the story are included in the following sections.

### Timeline of Ancient Events Relating to Stone Skin

# Approximately 13thcentury BCE

**Year 0:** Odysseus sails from Ithaca, Greece to the faraway city of Troy.

**10 years later:** Odysseus is brought through the gates of Troy inside a giant wooden horse.

**6 months later:** After Odysseus sets sail back to Ithaca, winds blow his ships off course.

**3 years later:** Odysseus and his sailors escape from the cyclops Polyphemus.

**2 months later:** The witch Circe turns Odysseus's fellow sailors into swine on Aeaea.

**1 year later:** Odysseus's ships pass between Charybdis and Scylla.

**1 month later:** Odysseus becomes a prisoner of Calypso on her island.

**7 years later:** Odysseus passes between Charybdis and Scylla again on his return to Ithaca.

**30 years later:** A large body of seawater recedes, allowing Moses to escape Egypt.

**10 years later:** Moses ascends Mount Sinai.

### Timeline of modern events leading up to the start of Stone Skin

**1977:** Civil war erupts in Mozambique.

**1985:** Gustavo Ruiz and Emidio Faustino publish a joint thesis paper on the geography of the ancient world in the Paris Voltaire Undergraduate Research Journal.

**1985:** Emidio Faustino drops out of Paris Voltaire University and joins the UN Peacekeepers.

**1992:** The 15-year civil war in Mozambique ends.

**2001:** Emidio Faustino is deployed to Afghanistan after the onset of war between the Taliban and the coalition led by the United States.

**2003:** Ikbal Khalaf dies after a truck bomb goes off in a military compound in Afghanistan.

**2003:** Emidio Faustino retires from the UN Peacekeepers and disappears from public record.

**2005:** A wave of deadly weather events sweep the globe, including three destructive cyclones in Mozambique.

**2005:** Emidio Faustino relocates to Mozambique and launches Noveu Ouro, a nonprofit specializing in large-scale infrastructure development.

**2011:** Egypt experiences regime change and social upheaval.

**2011:** Minori Sabuko dies after a botched mission in Libya.

**2013:** Emidio Faustino is elected President of Mozambique. Armed conflict ensues between President Faustino's paramilitary contractors and military forces loyal to former President Campos. Faustino's forces prevail and Campos is exiled from the country.

**2019:** Nura Faustino's body is found in the penthouse suite of the Olympia Hotel in Mozambique.

### Author's Note

Stone Skin is the third novella I have self-published. I am proud of it and consider it my most complete work to date. I am grateful to you for reading it and I hope you enjoyed the story.

Stone Skin is the second installment in the story of Elena Ruiz. This story takes place before the events of Metal Skeleton, but it comes second because it further develops Elena's character. Elena, while she is central to the plot in both Metal Skeleton and Stone Skin, does not make an appearance in the majority of the chapters. In both novellas, she is caught up in a complex story involving a diverse array of actors, and in both cases, she is the lone survivor and escapee of the deadly islands.

In addition to finding a way to leave both islands in one piece at the end, her presence at the beginning influences every event on the islands. In Metal Skeleton, her arrival on Atahualpa Island is the catalyst for the bloodshed that impacts every character in the story. The same rings true for her arrival on Calypso Island in Stone Skin. I think she is a great protagonist because she is ruthless when it comes to survival, but also has genuine empathy for even the most unlikeable people.

For these reasons, among others, Elena Ruiz will return.

### Other titles by Taylor Col

# Metal Skeleton

An oil tanker lost at sea. An entire village in the Amazon gone without a trace. A single body washes ashore in Lima, Peru. An unlikely team of an anthropologist, a police officer and an FBI agent search for answers, and find themselves on a mysterious artificial island. What they discover appears to be a social experiment gone wrong. Or maybe it is going exactly as planned...

# HALO

Nothing in Quinton Thompson's traumatic life or grueling training prepared him for this. On his first deployment, he is behind enemy lines with a combat unit he does not trust. They already killed one of their own during this mission and he might be next. But they are vastly outnumbered by the enemy and cut off from any support. Thompson's only option to survive is to fight alongside them.

### Connect with Taylor Col

Smashwords Author Profile

(Where you can find information on the author, other titles, and upcoming books):

<https://www.smashwords.com/profile/view/TaylorCol>
