Page 103 of Exit Strategy

“Besides, you don’t have to deal with them on a day-to-day basis. They’re lazy, entitled, remarkably stupid, and their self-esteem is so non-existent it’s frankly insulting. The only thing I have in common with those mewling, sobbing animals is the same chromosome pattern.” Her voice was acid on glass.

“That’s harsh,” he said.

“It hasn’t prevented you from being a training stud when needed, has it?”

“Well, no,” he hesitated.

“I think you’re just having a relic crisis, and when we get to the islands, you should talk with one of the Ministers. They can probably help with that. Don’t make that face, I’m not turning you in because you’re having second thoughts about how we’re treating the cattle. That’s just proof that you’re almost ready to completely embrace August Emerson’s teachings. You’re right there at the door, man. I am actually very happy for you.”

“Really?”

“Enough,” I said, pointing a pair of pistols at the both of them. “One more word and you’re both worm food.” They both looked surprised and raised their hands. Both were armed, but neither had a hand near their guns.

She had a bundle of cable ties in a back pocket, and I assumed it was for dealing with troublesomecattleand felt my blood boil. My injuries seemed less severe, and I had a burning urge to shoot both of them. “Take some of those cable ties and bind her hands and feet.” I gestured the pistol at the man, Cam. He nodded, and when he didn’t move fast enough, I gave him a motivational cuff with the butt of the pistol. He let out a small sound and fumbled faster with the cable ties. After the woman was trussed up, I did the same to the scared man. There was something satisfying about the way his hands shook as he tied his own feet and surrendered the ties so I could bind his hands.

“You disgust me,” I said softly. “But I’m going to let you live, if you answer my questions.” He looked terrified, but her eyes were bright with defiance and anger.

“I won’t tell you anything,” she hissed.

I pressed the barrel of the Beretta against her forehead, right above the bridge of her nose. “Are you telling me the truth, because if you really won’t tell my anything, I have no reason to leave that pile of shite you call a brain inside your skull. Ever see what a nine mil does to a human head?”

She made a whimpering sound, the guy let out a gagging noise.

“Oh, you might be familiar with that?” I asked. “So, do you want to answer my questions, or will you?” I turned my attention to the guy. “After I pop her skull like acne, will you talk?”

He had a sheen of nervous sweat on his face and looked close to vomiting.

“Your pal here looks like the canary I need.” I raised the angle of my hand, flexed my fingers, and she let out a sobbing noise.

“I’ll talk.” Her voice wavered, but there was no mistaking the sudden darkness between her legs and the look of liquid fear in her eyes. She believed every word, down to her core. That was good because I had meant every one of them.

“Where is Calanthe Rex?”

“The forward section has a VIP cabin, mess, and bathroom. She is being kept there with a few other dignitaries,” she said quickly.

“She’s not on one of the caravans, here?” I asked. She shook her head vigorously. “She telling me the truth, sport?”

“Arik and his wife are in the VIP lounge, the VIP section behind the cockpit,” he agreed.

“I’m glad to see you didn’t piss yourself,” I said and gave him a tap between the eyes with the end of the barrel. He groaned and chose that moment to do just that. I sighed.

Gagging them proved a bit more difficult, but I managed to make do. He had the pack of smokes stuffed in his mouth, and then bound with one of my shirt sleeves. She got a wad of shirt and the other sleeve. Easy enough, considering how rough they looked after my daredevil antics getting on the plane.

“What are you going to do?” the scared guy asked before I put the gag in his mouth.

“I’m going to rescue the girls you have here, and Calanthe, and I’m going to make sure this doesn’t happen again.” I gave the cable tie an extra tug, and he looked away. I could feel the shame radiate from him. Perhaps a different Kurt might have had a change of heart, a moment of mercy. I felt the opposite, something inside me hardening. A point of hatred so intense that it stopped being black like coal and started to gleam like a diamond.

They were going to pay for this.

I was a ghost, slipping from RV to camper, SUV to luxury car. I quietly removed each of the ratchet straps and tie-down chains. One by one, I made the vehicles free, only their brakes and transmissions holding them in place. They were going to pay, pay in blood and terror.

After a half hour of this, I circled back to where the two were tied up.

He looked sick as I had ever seen a person, and the stench told me a quick story. He had tried to puke, but the gag prevented it from coming out. Too fucking bad. I went to the woman and pulled the gag out of her mouth. She coughed a few times, but slammed her mouth shut and swallowed all the coughing when I jammed the barrel of the Baretta into the side of her mouth.

“How many, and where are they?” I asked. “If you say who, I swear to Christ and Satan, I’ll cheese your skull and ask the pants shitter where they are.”

Her mouth was dry, and she chewed that cottonmouth for a moment. “They’re in the big RV, the Halcyon Cruiser.”

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