Today’s
excerpt is from Assassin I Am, a standalone book, featuring some old friends,
and a few new ones. Rosemary starts to
find out what she’s in for, but understands.
Enjoy and have a fantastic day.
m.j.
Inside his
office, the imam was led by Fred to the straight-backed, cushioned chair behind
his desk. Fred duct taped his arms to
the arms of the chair. His legs were
taped to the chair, which had four coasters.
Rosemary came in at that point and nodded. Fred growled at the imam, “Stay put—don’t even
blink.”
Then he led
Rosemary from the room. “Got a grisly
detail for you, hon.”
As he spoke, he
took a machete from the sheath attached to his leg. “I want you to chop off the heads of those
five guys and place them on the railing in that big room, where we killed the
last three. I know its nasty work, but
Harvey and I came up with a plan some time ago to foster distrust between
various terrorist groups—in particular, al-Qaida and ISIS. Since our new President authorized the ground
attack on ISIS, they have been greatly degraded. But they’re still around, and trying to make
a comeback in Sudan. Those two outfits
have never really hit it off, as each wants to be the top dog in the Islamist
movement.”
“I get it—you’re
gonna blame this attack on ISIS somehow, and cutting off heads is their
trademark.”
“Go to the head
of the class. Now I better get back
inside, and start working on that jackass.”
Rosemary felt
her stomach grumble at the thought of what she was about to do, but she could
see the value of it. Without reply, she
turned and set off to do what had been asked of her. This time she (correctly) didn’t think it was
a test—it just needed to be done, to add to the plan.
By the time she
finished, Fred was nearly finished with the imam. It had only taken him about ten minutes to
make the man terrified of him, and he was certain that what he had been told
was the truth. Maybe not the entire
truth, but most of what Fred wanted and felt he needed. If nothing else, he had a new lead on the
al-Qaida bombmaker, Samir al-Houthi, the person he had come to St. Louis to
find in the first place.
Rosemary walked
in, put the machete on the desk in front of the imam, and asked, “Has he been a
good boy—or do I have to chop off his damned head, too?”
The imam looked
at the machete, the blood adorning it, and threw up as Fred answered, “So far—I
think.”
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