The Last Chamber by Ernest Dempsey Page B

door handle, holding the concealed rock in the
other hand. His smile turned to a wicked grin. The man’s dead eyes just stared
back at him, unaware of what was about to happen.
    “No,” Will shook his head. “If you don’t mind, I think I’ll drive.”

Chapter 15
    Egyptian Desert

 
    Kaba steered Alexander Lindsey’s SUV down the highway. She touched a
finger to her ear, checking in on the two vehicles behind her.
    She had been born of middle-eastern decent, born and raised in Syria.
But she had left the religion of Islam behind. She had always felt the belief
system to be harsh on women, and longed to be free of it. She was also repulsed
by fundamentalists. Both of her parents had been killed in a terrorist bombing
by a radical Islamic group. They hadn’t been the targets, just innocent
bystanders in the wrong place at the wrong time. But it had been the last straw
for her.
    Young Kaba spent several weeks in mourning before swearing to avenger
her parents’ deaths. She first trained herself in the arts of self-defense.
When she wanted more, she found a man in the city who was rumored to have
knowledge of more advanced training. She spent two years under his tutelage,
learning a vast array of fighting and weapons techniques.
    When she’d finished her training, Kaba traveled a little, wanting to
see the world outside of her homeland. She had wandered into a bar just outside
of Istanbul, and bumped into a group of men there. She overheard them
discussing something about their next job, and noticed they were dressed like
they were either private security, or some kind of terrorists. Since they were
white, she figured it wasn’t the latter.
    While the men were having their drinks, an assassin leapt out from the
shadows behind her, a long blade wielded from his hand. His target was the man
nearest her, a guy with short, black hair and streaks of gray through it. The
man had his back to her and the assailant. For some reason, she felt the need
to assist.
    She stepped out with one foot and brought a hand up to knock away the
attacker’s hand that carried the knife. Kaba spun around and brought her other
elbow into the neck of the assassin, sinking it deep into his throat beneath
the scarf that covered his skin. The man gurgled for a few seconds, dropping
the blade and clutching at his crushed larynx.
    The man with the peppered hair spun around, gun drawn. His two
companions slid off of their stools, ready for a fight. Instead, they saw a middle-eastern
woman in black pants and a ruffled blouse standing over the would-be attacker.
    The group’s leader gave her a grateful glance with an eyebrow raised
then nodded his appreciation. She said nothing, and watched as the others
grabbed the assassin off of the floor under his arms and drag him out a side
door.
    “Thanks,” the middle-aged man said before following the others
outside.
    Kaba didn’t respond, partially because she didn’t speak a lot of
English, but also because didn’t know how to respond. Instead, she waited for
the door to the bar to close, then left out the same exit, leaving the few
remaining patrons and the bartender standing with mouths and eyes wide at what
had transpired.
    Outside, she trailed the men into a dark alley. She ducked behind a
trash bin and peered around the corner. The man she’d struck in the throat was
lying motionless on the wet pavement, surrounded by broken glass, and trash.
She wondered if he was dead, not because she was concerned. It was more out of
curiosity.
    The leader of the group stood off to the side as the others searched
the pockets of the unconscious man. They found piece of paper, but she couldn’t
tell what was on it. One of the men handed the paper to the guy in charge who
looked at it with contained curiosity. He stuffed the piece in his back pocket
and pulled out his pistol. She stared at him as he attached a long, black tube
to the end of the barrel then extended the weapon out towards the man on the
ground.