“Help me, help me, it hurts… Please… help.”
Lilburn didn’t expect the caterer to answer the phone. It was a long shot but one he still needed to try. He certainly wasn’t expecting the exasperated cry for help that exploded out from the phone. Holding the mobile slightly away from his ear, one of the others also heard the voice. Both men looked at each other surprised.
“Is that Timothy?”
“Yes, yes… help me, I’m hurt.”
“Timothy, my name is Matt…”
“Help…”
“Timothy, listen. You have to stay calm for me to help you. Do you understand?”
“Yes.”
“Right. Are you alone?”
“Yes.”
“Where are you, Timothy? Tell me where you are.”
“I don’t know. I was taken in the back of my van. I don’t know. I feel sick, I…”
“Can you describe the area you are in, any distinguishable features?”
“No, just countryside.”
“Don’t worry — we’ll find you.” Lilburn placed his hand over the phone and spoke to the agent next to him. “Get HQ to trace this call.” He then carried on speaking to Timothy. “How bad are you hurt?”
Lilburn could hear the man sobbing. “They cut me, they cut me bad.”
“Where did they cut you? Can you stop the bleeding?”
“It’s not bleeding so bad now. Ow, ow, ow… oh shit, it’s sore! They cut Willie!”
“Who?”
“They cut my penis! They circumcised me!”
Lilburn again covered the phone and turned to his colleague. “How’s that trace going? Tell them to hurry.”
“Are the injuries life-threatening?”
Lilburn had to bite his lip and not look at the man. He had to be serious, but Christ, he could have laughed. “No.” He managed to keep it together.
It wasn’t long before Albany came back with the injured man’s position. Lilburn reassured the caterer help was on the way, then hung up. He informed Sharron she was now in charge — her boss was safe but would require urgent medical treatment and not to expect him back for some time.
The four agents left the race course with a description of the van and Timothy’s whereabouts. High above, and unseen, the drone started a new grid search pattern, starting at the location of the injured caterer.
Chapter Twenty-three
Bashir sat in the middle seat. He looked at the driver. “How did you know the man was not circumcised already?”
“I didn’t,” said Bomani, who then turned his head and faced his questioner. “It was lucky for him.” Bomani glanced past Bashir and looked at his other passenger. Yusuf al-Nasseri was in a world of his own, his head lowered, chin nearly touching his chest, his hands stained with the caterer’s blood. Taking his focus off the dried blood he slowly raised his head and peered off into the distance. Everything seemed strangely silent except for a continuous background noise that was serenely peaceful. He could have closed his eyes and drifted off to another land.
“Yusuf, Yusuf!”
His name was being called, something pushed into his side. An elbow. “What?”
“What was it like, cutting that man’s skin?”
Yusuf knew he had to lie again — he couldn’t risk the truth in front of Bomani. He feared Bomani. “Good, it felt good.”
“Did you feel like you were teaching the infidel a lesson? Teaching him there is only room on this earth for us, for Allah. Teaching him the lesson that the United States should kneel before our faith, that our faith is the only faith. Teaching him that Allah spared his life because Allah can!”
Yusuf dropped his hands to between his thighs, searching for the cover of the seating. Finding it he rubbed his hands surreptitiously, trying to rid himself of his victim’s blood. He couldn’t let the others see. “Yes, I did… I felt as if a lesson was being taught.” Inwardly Yusuf cried out, louder than he had ever cried out before.
His friend next to him turned his broad grin to the driver, nodding and holding his head high and proud. The man driving showed no emotion.
Forty minutes had passed since they had left the waiter, minus his foreskin, on the side of the road. Bomani hadn’t yet received a call that the drone had renewed contact. That, he knew, gave him time to add in a back-up, a fail-safe. The intention had always been to deploy the virus in a place where the infected animals would be transported far and wide, unknowingly distributing the disease throughout the States. The catalyst for that plan had been the livestock auction yards. But now the plan had to take a different approach. With their failure at Inox, Bomani knew the security forces would target similar sites. While it meant he had to work harder, it was merely a detail; for which a plan was already in place. The GPS unit indicated his next target was half an hour away. Time enough to execute an added fail-safe measure.
Yusuf and Bashir were surprised when the white catering van slowed down then came to a stop on the country road, then reversed about twenty yards to stop by a sign, next to a farm entrance. The large metal sign was suspended from a tall pole bent near the top to accommodate the advertising. The outline was that of a pig, and read The Hog Pen. A further sign attached to the timber rails indicated this was a commercial pig-breeding farm and visitors were by appointment only. Bomani had found what he was looking for — the added extra.
“Mommy, Mommy, come see! Mrs. Britches has got a mouse!”
“Wait, sweetheart, while Mommy helps Daddy unload the truck. Mrs. Britches will just be taking the mouse to show her kittens. What a nice mommy she is.”
“Mrs. Britches is a nice mommy. I love Mrs. Britches.”
Both adults were dressed in denim dungarees and kept a lookout over their precious daughter inside the barn. They unloaded bags of pig pellets for the sows ‘in pig’.
“How’s it going, Jess, these bags not too heavy for you?”
“You just go and mind your own back, old fella. You’re the one who just turned forty.”
“Ha! And guess what, sweetpea? Next birthday you’ll have caught up. Tell you what, you go sort out our daughter and I’ll finish here.”
Jess gave her husband a wink, took off her gloves and walked over to the large barn doors. “Come on, Bobbie-Jo, let’s go see what Mrs. Britches is up to.”
“She went out the door, Mommy.”
Jess led her daughter by the hand and walked at a four year old’s pace to the doors. As they got to the doorway Jess heard the rumble of tires on gravel. “Hey Tommy, looks like we got visitors.”