Massive Attack (A Guy Niava Thriller Book 1) by Dana Arama (e reader for manga .txt) 📗

Once again, they exchanged looks and the tattooed guy took the suitcase out of the car. “It wasn’t us who agreed to the deal with you. I need to check if the suitcase has any value for us.”

“It is worth a lot of money,” I responded quickly. “Much more than a boy who knows nothing about life.”

“Come on, come on!” the short one with the rifle commanded me and pointed towards the door of the house.

I counted twenty paces till the entrance and two more men inside the house. The house itself looked as if it had been in dire need of restoration for many years. Under the window opposite the door, there was a wide crack which started as a slight crack and widened so aggressively that it had been stuffed with newspaper, probably to prevent the cold evening air from coming in. The room itself wasn’t very big and, despite the window that let the daylight stream in, the naked bulb hanging from the ceiling was switched on.

On the right side of the room, there was a kitchen with rough wooden shelves, which held only two pots on them and underneath, a dirty sink. Next to the kitchen was a door, probably leading to the bathroom. On the other side of the room was a hallway, which most probably led to spare rooms. I hoped they were empty of people. In the room was a green couch which had seen better days and on it, stretched out, were two men dressed in camouflage clothes and high boots, their hair cropped short and a two-day beard stubble lining their faces. By the way the couch was indented, they were heavier than they seemed, or the couch was in very bad condition.

The only thing connecting modern life and what was going on inside the house was a computer screen, which stood on a peeling wooden table.

“If lucky, then lucky to the end…” said the tattooed guy behind me. “In addition to the Israeli scientist, we have the suitcase containing the operations of the Israeli satellite. Turn on the computer. I want to see what he has to say about this suitcase.” He laid the suitcase next to the door and walked into the room.

All four men turned towards the computer screen, including the short one with the rifle who was standing a foot away from me slightly to my left. It shouldn’t be a problem to take hold of the rifle and spray everyone with bullets. But I first wanted to get as much information as possible about the current situation. One of the guys got up from the couch, sat by the table and turned on the computer. His fingers ran nimbly over the keyboard and I gathered he was their tech guy. After a mere few minutes the camera started to work. The tattooed one signaled the tech guy by patting his shoulder lightly to move over and he immediately sat down instead.

“Hello, my friend,” a familiar voice sounded. Immediately, the smiling face of El Desconocido appeared on the screen. “How are plans coming along?”

“Not bad at all. We have a good feeling we will be able to get one of our men into the White House.”

The internet couldn’t have been very good, because the picture on the screen froze and I froze with it. They didn’t ask about him. He was running them. The connections here were becoming more and more threatening and I knew I would have to do something about it. While the cyberman tried to reconnect the communication, I injected a few drops of poison into the sweetness opposite me.

“You are aware that Yassin Graham is a Muslim who is using you to carry out a terrorist attack against Christian Americans like you?”

The bald guy turned his head to look at me and didn’t say a thing. I saw in his eyes that he was thinking about what I’d just said. When the communication was reestablished, he leaned back and looked at El Desconocido, “Do you know, now that I think about it,” I heard suspicion in his voice, “Why do you want him there when he is threatening to close down the border?”

“I want to kick out the existing people there now. It is not a matter of ideology for me. These are personal reasons, exactly like the task I gave you. How is it coming along?”

“It is coming along even better than we thought.” He’d liked Raphael’s answer because he leaned forward towards the screen, as if to share a secret. “I have not only brought you the Israeli scientist, but I also have the suitcase that operates the Israeli satellite. I am sure that it will help you with your revenge.”

“Like a command center?” El Desconocido’s voice was full of admiration.

“I think so,” the tattooed guy answered hesitantly and then with confidence said, “Here, look for yourself…” and he turned the screen and himself towards the suitcase.

I quickly lowered my head. I didn’t want to be in the frame of the camera and in El Desconocido’s view. Any recognition now wouldn’t be a good thing. The only good thing would be a single shot to the head without torture as per the M.O. of the Mexican cartel.

“Open it,” said the voice of the cartel man on the computer screen. The tattooed guy once again turned the camera towards him and nodded. Then he ordered the tech guy to place the suitcase on the table and open it. My fingerprint, imprinted as it was on the locking system, could be my death warrant. They wouldn’t hesitate to cut my finger off, place it in ice and send it together with the suitcase to Mexico. In that case, I wasn’t sure I would prefer to be joined to my finger.

The cyberman placed the suitcase next to the computer and leaned over to try to understand the opening mechanism. A few long minutes passed, and they