The Somali Deception Episode IV (A Cameron Kincaid Serial) (10 page)

“Look, we need these people,
like Dada and Abbo, to serve a purpose.
 
We create them by employing them to service a need.
 
To transfer commodities under the guise
of a hijacking, to fulfill insurance contracts that finance new fleets,
mercenaries to eliminate non-players, hell the Chinese need a place to send the
floating fish factory ships that feed their masses, food after all means
power.
 
All these and other tasks
need to be performed.”

“Like dumping toxic waste in the
open sea,” said Pepe.

Demetrius absently nodded at
Pepe.
 
“Those men like Dada and Abbo
are minions of a market, men like myself created.
 
One might say --,” Demetrius paused
again.
 
He glared into the shine of
the metal blade he held out before him.
 
“One might say, as the Texans are the Arabs, we are the real Somali
pirates.”

* * *
* *

Talamanca Bay, Ibiza

Demetrius was certainly
convinced of everything he told those aboard the Azulejo.
 
Demetrius held a Rex Mundi dagger yet
nothing that he said sounded anything like the fervor Cameron had heard from
the Rex Mundi operative in Quebec.
 
The way Cameron heard Demetrius, maintaining power and rank was
justified by any means.
 
Then again,
Cameron was well aware that leaders are motivated by a different agenda than
the many parts of an organization.
 
Cameron himself had been a cog in a wheel when he was a super commando,
never questioning, never daring to question.
 
That same sense of honor had been used
against him these last days, once again making him a cog in a wheel.

Cameron found himself angry.
 
An anger he decided was justified.
 
Nikos was the twisted arrogant son of a
billionaire.
 
Cameron figured Nikos
had done too much ecstasy, cocaine, or plainly never was rooted in
reality.
 
The audacity of this
pretty boy to say outright that he took Christine to show her, he could own
her.

Cameron’s disdain for Nikos was
great, yet no measure to Pepe’s.
 
Cameron could read Pepe easily from where he stood across the
cabin.
 
Pepe’s own sanity had been
drawn and tested by this ordeal, and there was not much left keeping Pepe’s
finger from squeezing the trigger of the Berretta angled less than a muzzle
flash from Nikos’ skull.

Cameron shot his eyes to
Alastair.
 
Alastair was a fun loving
man, easy going by nature, a natural calm.
 
To friend Alastair, was to gain a lifelong unquestioned loyalty.
 
The back of Cameron’s throat went
acidic.
 
The man that had saved his
life more times than he knew, literally more times than he knew, had eyes fixed
on Nikos no differently than a predator.
 
That is what the betrayal meant.

Yet, the playboy’s father
appeared far more furious with Nikos than the three former Legionnaires.
 
His grandstanding finished, Demetrius
gave the hilt of the raised dagger a tighter squeeze.
 
Whether he was punctuating his the end
of his speech, or beginning another, Cameron was unsure.
 
Demetrius dropped the hand holding the
dagger by his side and then turned to Nikos.
 
He shook his head in short scolding
turns.
 
“Tsk, tsk, tsk.
 
You are a naughty one Nikos.”

Cameron tilted his head to the
side in disbelief.
 
The father spoke
to the grown son as a three year old.
 
No wonder Nikos was a mess.

Demetrius raised the dagger and
began shaking the pointy end to Nikos face.
 
“What would your mother say?
 
You would break her heart.
 
You break my heart.
 
You try to negotiate around me, you
deceive your friend Alastair, you double-cross Abbo, Feizel, and then you
killed Feizel.”
 
Demetrius slipped
the dagger into the pocket of his linen pants and then shoved Nikos back.
 
Nikos cowered to his father.
 
“You should know better Nikos.”

Demetrius stepped back from
Nikos.
 
He raised his hands in the
air.
 
Then Demetrius violently
reached his free hand under Nikos’ shirt, into his waist.
 
Nikos pushed at his father’s hands.
 
Demetrius slapped him across the face.

Demetrius held his index finger
up to Nikos, glared at him sternly, and then he defiantly reached back to
Nikos’ waist and retrieved a small Ruger.
 
He tossed the gun back and forth in his hands.
 
“What is this?” he asked.
 
“You carry a gun now too.”

Demetrius turned away from Nikos
to address all the three Legionnaires.
 
His head floated back and forth across all three as he spoke, “I am sure
you are wondering why I so openly shared with you my involvement, my families
involvement, with the Rex Mundi, our relationship clandestine all of these
years.
 
They want me to apologize
for my son.”
 
Demetrius
shrugged.
 
“What is a father to do?
 
I have to apologize for my son, and,
there is only one way to make amends for the damage he has done.
 
There is only one set of terms the Rex
Mundi accepts for what he has done.
 
They want me to kill him of course, and if he were anyone else --,” he
twirled the barrel of the Ruger toward the ceiling.
 
“Well I have to spare my son.”

Then Demetrius abruptly lowered
the Ruger toward Alastair, and fired.

Cameron released two rounds into
Demetrius’ side while Alastair simultaneously fired into his forehead,
implanting fragments of the Greek’s skull into the hull, killing him instantly.

What may have been a war cry
began to escape from Nikos throat as he threw his body forward to charge
Cameron.
 
The cry became a gurgle as
Pepe’s blade clotheslined Nikos, slicing halfway through his neck.
 
Cameron had seen Pepe do this
before.
 
The Berretta against Nikos
skull had been a prop, the obvious weapon.
 
Pepe had wanted to take Nikos’ life with his hands.

Alastair sent a shot from the
PPK into Nikos as well, though the partial decapitation was what killed him.

Alastair inspected his shoulders
and then the hull around him.
 
“Bloody hell, he missed me.”

“He didn’t miss,” said
Cameron.
 
“He was in a corner.
 
He said himself he had to spare his
son.
 
He knew we wouldn’t.
 
I think his heart was broken.
 
He didn’t want to see Nikos die.”

“And what was with all of that
rambling,” said Alastair.

“Demetrius knew he wasn’t
leaving.”
 
Cameron knelt down and
took the Rex Mundi dagger from Demetrius’ pocket, far more ornamented than the
others he had seen, this one had a crimson ruby set in the hilt.
 
Cameron inspected the familiar ruby
closely, and then lifted Demetrius’ hand.
 
The ruby set into his ring was the same cut and size, and encircled with
the exact design as the dagger.

“And what about that thing?”
asked Alastair.
 
He shifted to allow
Pepe to exam Christine’s pupils.

“Same thing,” said Cameron.
 
“He felt the need to let me know, they
know who I am.”

“They?” asked Alastair.
 
“Who the bloody hell are they?”

“The Rex Mundi.”

“Right.”

“I’ll fill you in after we get
out of here.”
 
Cameron nodded toward
Christine, her hair mussed, gaze dazed.
 
“She’s waited long enough for us.”
 
His face froze for a second, “And there is another woman waiting for us
to rescue her from the trunk of the Aston Martin.”

Alastair gave Cameron a sinking
leer, “We don’t have to --,”

Cameron shook his head.
 
“No, she won’t talk.”
 
He glanced down at Nikos.
 
“Besides, there has been enough
unnecessary carnage.”
 
Cameron
rested his hands, one with a Ruger, the other with the dagger, on his knees and
sighed.
 
“Listen I’m gonna do a wipe
down.
 
Let’s get her out of here.”

Alastair eased Christine
upright.
 
“Christine we need to go.”

“Let me help you,” said Pepe,
slipping his arm beneath his sister.
 
“The anesthetic effect of the drugs will wear off eventually, for now I
don’t believe she knows what has happened.”

* * *
* *

The
End

Cameron
Kincaid returns in

Templar
Force

* * *
* *

* * *
* *

Thank you for reading episode four of The Somali
Deception.
 
This story is the second
in the Cameron Kincaid series and a favorite of my lovely wife.
 
The original draft of the manuscript,
shorter and much different that the final release, was written during November
of 2010 for nanowrimo, or national novel writing month.
 
I had planned a different project, and
then came an intriguing discussion concerning the misconception of piracy with
my friend Margot Kiser, an American reporting from Kenya.
 
Coincidentally I have other friends that
had already stirred my curiosity for the region, particularly my good friend
Alastair Boyd, who at the time was an eco-lodge director in Laikipia.
 
That was 2010, what happened?
 
Well in January 2011, I was asked to
oversee a multinational tech surge, in a hired gun manner if you will, and The
Somali Deception was shelved.
 
After
the consulting engagement, I returned to writing full time, and did not return
to The Somali Deception.
 
Then in
April of 2013, The Cathari Treasure connected with an audience and began to
climb the Best Seller list, sparking encouragement from my wife to dust off the
next in the series.
 
Around the same
time, an editor from a New York publishing house inquired as to whether the
story could be told as an episodic serial.
 
Up for the challenge, I rescaled the project and the result was a four
episode serial with twice the action as the first story in the series.

The are numerous contributors that bring a project to
completion, my family first and foremost, a myriad of fellow authors and
friends on twitter, and countless others.

Individually I want to thank Chad Ness, Lon Grover, Alastair
Boyd, and Margot Kiser all of whom supported the project either through shared
research or the diligent reading of first drafts.
 
I would also like to thank the readers
that signed up as First Readers for this manuscript as their contributions have
helped me to create a better release edition.

If you enjoyed The Somali Deception, I would appreciate if
you would share your thoughts in a review.
 
Reviews help other readers that may have similar interest as you decide
whether this is a story they would like to read.

And again thank you.

* * *
* *

Daniel Arthur Smith is the international bestselling author
of The Cathari Treasure.
 
American
born, Daniel has traveled to over 300 cities in 22 countries, residing in Los
Angeles, Kalamazoo, Prague, Crete, and New York.

Daniel was born and raised in Michigan, graduating from
Western Michigan University where he studied philosophy and comparative
religion.
 
He has been a teacher,
bartender, barista, poetry house proprietor, technologist, and a Fortune 100
consultant across America and Europe.
 
Daniel resides and writes in Manhattan with his wife and young sons.

Discover more at
http://www.danielarthursmith.com

Twitter:  
http://twitter.com/authordasmith

Facebook: 
http://facebook.com/danielarthursmith