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THE SHADE FROM the awning of the outdoor café was a welcome relief from the relentless sun as Leine sipped a glass of sweet tea and watched people hurry past. Her cell phone rang and she checked caller ID. Right on time.
“Hey, Lou. What’s up?”
“First off, congrats on taking the initiative and going after that lead we received this morning,” answered Lou Stokes. Lou was the director of Stop Human Enslavement Now, better known as SHEN, the organization Leine worked with. “If you hadn’t done that, we may never have found Chessa. Once she’s gone through the psych eval, she’ll be ready to go. Her mother and father are beside themselves and are on their way to Paris to meet her when she lands.”
“That’s great, Lou.”
“Yeah. Hey, I know I said you should come home for a while, but if you’re up for it, would you mind staying in Libya a little longer?” Lou’s voice had an edge to it that wasn’t normally there.
“That depends. What have you got?”
“There’ve been reports of missing children from a refugee camp near the Tunisian border. The cases are sporadic, but concerning.”
“Izz Al-Din?”
“Nobody knows, but that’s one theory. The children who’ve been reported missing are quite a bit younger than their usual fare.”
“How young are we talking here?”
“Under ten.”
“Jesus.” Anger rose in her chest. She was glad that she still felt something after all the evil she’d seen. “Too young to be a bride, at least for the majority of fighters. Are they taking them young so they can raise them to terrorist standards?”
“That’s a possibility.”
“So what’s my story?”
“You’ll be traveling as Ava Yardley, a reporter for Slam. Rami will take you to the refugee camp.”
Leine took a deep breath as the memories of the last time she’d visited a Libyan refugee camp flooded through her. She’d lost a good friend and become embroiled in a deception with ramifications that reverberated through the upper reaches of both the Kremlin and the White House. Not something she wanted to repeat. But this was business. Compartmentalizing personal feelings was second nature for the former assassin. She’d deal with any fallout when she got back stateside.
“And?”
“You’re scheduled to interview the director of the NGO that finances the camp. The added bonus is that whatever notes you take will be given to an actual reporter for the newsmagazine to turn into a story.”
“I assume Fatima has all the necessary docs at the office?” She’d need a new passport, as well as credit and business cards, press credentials, etc.
“As we speak.”
“Anything else?”
He paused. “You should come home after this one, okay?”
Leine stopped herself from telling him to mind his own business, that she was just fine, thank you very much. She sighed. No need to get into it on an international call. “No worries there, Lou. I’m pretty sure Santa would like that too.”
“You sure you’re up for one more?”
“Yeah. Absolutely. Besides, this sounds more like a fact-finding mission. I can share whatever information I gather with Fatima and the crew at the office for follow-up.”
“Be safe.”
“I will.”
She ended the call and set her phone down on the table in front of her. Lou was concerned about her, and he was probably right. All the warning signs of burnout were there. Her refusal to listen to other people when they expressed concern for her well-being. Her inability to sleep more than a few hours at a time, punctuated by nightmares that would only go away with ever increasing amounts of alcohol. How her personal feelings drove her actions, often resulting in a corpse. The main indicator, however, was the empty feeling she got when she took a life.
And she’d been taking a lot of lives.
She was having a hard time convincing herself that killing should be a last resort instead of her first response. She finished her tea and dug in her purse for money, which she left on the table. She was about to leave when a voice cried out.
“Wait! No—”
Leine tensed. Down the block, at the entrance to an alley, a young girl struggled against two big, burly men, each holding her by an arm. The endeavor was proving difficult for the men. The girl writhed and bucked and slipped an arm free before one of the men recaptured it.
In a flash, the three of them disappeared into the alley.
Leine sprang to her feet and sprinted across the busy boulevard. She slowed as she came to the corner of the alley and peered into the gloom. They were several yards away, partially hidden by shadow.
“Let. Me. Go!” The young girl fought the two men with a ferocity that would have made a cornered lion proud.
Leine walked toward them, her hand closing around the hilt of the knife concealed in her waistband. “What do you think you’re doing?” she demanded in Arabic.
“This is none of your business,” one of the men snarled before turning back to the girl.
Without breaking stride, Leine pivoted and swept her leg in a low arc, forcing the man off his feet and sending him toppling backward to the ground. She delivered a sharp kick to his head, knocking him unconscious, before turning to the second man. A flash of anger crossed his face as he wrapped his arm around the girl’s neck and pulled her in front of him, while at the same time shoving a revolver under her chin. A third of his body was exposed and vulnerable to attack, including his head.
She drew the knife free as she shook her head in mock sympathy. A split-second of indecision lit his face.
“Nice try, asshole,” Leine murmured and threw the knife. The blade buried itself in his right eye, cutting short the scream in his throat. His grip loosened and the girl slipped from his grasp. She took off running as he collapsed to the ground.
Leine extracted her knife from the second body of the day and raced after the girl.