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

“So why are you so worried?”

I didn’t answer him. I sat there on the rickety bed in my underwear for another moment, thinking about everything I’d amassed in my life before I met him, and about the tranquility I’d lost since then. “I need a line,” I mumbled, and Alex once again looked in from the stove, ready to fulfill my wish. I stopped him with a hand. “I need to get back to him first.” I managed to finish my coffee before Yassin answered. During that time, I held out hope that it was all just a whim, that he was pulling my leg and that, actually, nothing would happen tonight. But eventually Yassin answered, sounding as energetic and pragmatic as he had before. Unwillingly, I gave him the address of the apartment where we were hiding. By the time the driver arrived to pick me up, we had time to snort a line, which moved me from feeling insecure to feeling as if I was on top of the world.

Yassin had said to look out for the driver in just under half an hour, so every couple of minutes I peeked out the window, making sure there weren’t any patrol cars. When finally I saw the car waiting, I walked out to meet him. The driver was silent. He wore a jalabiya under a dirty army coat. The way he dressed was like a giant sign saying, ‘I am a Muslim fanatic on my way to perpetrate a terror attack’. I was apprehensive entering the car, but all the driver said was: “I was told to pick you up and continue on, not to hang around. Are you coming?”

So, I went. I hated myself for giving into Yassin. That was how it had always been. He had always drawn me in, into his plans, as if I hadn’t a life and plans of my own. He trampled over anything that was in his way, without a backward glance. His plans were always in place, and always bombastic or evil. Like the time he’d decided to give his father’s favorite horse food laced with caffeine the day before a hunt. He’d found it amusing when his father came back with a broken leg and ribs. What would he find amusing this time? And why did he need to call me in the middle of the night when we had made plans to meet within two days?

The trip took no more than half an hour and soon we reached a small airport I’d never heard of. When I saw the helicopter, I took two steps back. “No, no. There is no chance in hell that I am flying in this weather!” I protested, with the leftover self-confidence of the drug that was still in me. A swarthy man looked out from within the helicopter and shouted over the noise, “We are flying with you or without you. Now is the time for us to take off, because light winds are in the forecast.”

“I think it will be in your best interest to get in the helicopter.” The terrorist driver hinted to me, with an unfriendly smile and then added, “If you get in the helicopter it means you are with us and if you don’t -- you are most probably against Yassin.” This decided for me what I was going to do, going against Yassin was not such a good idea.

“Come on,” shouted the man inside the helicopter. “Can’t you feel that the winds have lessened? The respite is not going to last for long.”

“He’s right,” I smiled at the driver, and made my way towards the helicopter, as if I hadn’t wanted to fly with them only because of the weather. There were three more men inside the helicopter, besides the pilot. I was the only one who seemed worried about what was about to happen. Two of the men sat, silent and indifferent, like professional soldiers, chewing gum at a similar tempo. It was almost comical watching them. So alike and uniformly. I sat down and buckled up and someone put a bag over my face, and which suddenly made the whole situation scarier again.

The flight was horrendous. The winds rocked the helicopter as if it were no more than a feather and I, under the cover of that damned bag, felt as though I were on a rollercoaster from hell. I cursed them in every language I knew, but the noise was too loud for them to hear. After a while, which seemed like an eternity, we landed. I was left sitting in my place and waiting for my internal organs to resettle into their natural positions or for one of the men accompanying me to take the blindfold off my head, but neither of those things happened.

“Well? Can I take the blindfold off my head?” I hoped that, from my tone, they couldn’t hear the nausea in my voice. I hoped they understood I was cross for being bagged. Not just cross, angry. I should have been treated with the respect due to me. After all, Yassin and I had known each other since childhood. He trusted me to find him the weapons and the information. Trusted me and still demanded I arrive blindfolded. The fear that this evening would end badly overwhelmed me and suddenly I missed Alex and Aldo terribly. If they were here, the fear would be nonexistent.

Instead of taking off the blindfold, someone gripped my elbow and lifted me from my seat. Someone else said softly, “Mind your head…” and put his hand on my head. I bent down.

The same person with the soft voice helped me off the helicopter, his hand still on my head, and led me on a flat surface. I heard the helicopter restart its motor. I hoped, foolishly, that the wind from the blades would blow off this degrading blindfold. It didn’t blow off the blindfold but did spray something moist