Bad Luck Black Money (28 page)

Chapter 41

Major Elliot was seated in the cockpit of a modified Boeing 787 Dreamliner. His men were all geared up in the back of the plane and ready for action. They were shadowing a Boeing 747, which belonged to King Jaheal Naheer. Behind them, flew a Lockheed C-5 Galaxy cargo plane loaded with two stealth drones, one helicopter drone, and enough firepower to level a major city.

A listening device inside the Day-2-Night Scrambler confirmed the terrorists were flying to the Naheer Kingdom. Elliot rubbed his forehead to alleviate the throbbing in his brain. The whole situation had gone FUBAR (fucked up beyond all repair).

If they attempted to enter Naheer Kingdom airspace without permission, antiaircraft missile batteries or fighter jets would certainly shoot them down. If they went through proper channels then they'd be surrounded on touchdown by tanks and hundreds of government troops. There was only one course of action left to take, and it wasn't a good one.

"Big Diesel, this is Fox Leader," Major Elliot said over a secure radio channel. "Do you read me? Over."

"Fox Leader, Big Diesel here. We read you loud and clear, over," answered the pilot of the massive cargo plane.

"We're breaking off from the Golden Goose. New destination is Tazirbu airport, Libya, over."

"... Ten-four, Fox Leader. Lead the way, we'll follow, over."

"Roger that, over and out," Elliot said, as he rubbed his temples with his fingers. He noticed the pilot giving him the stink-eye and asked, "You got a problem, Logan?"

"No, sir.... It's just, isn't Libya a war zone? Do you even know if the airport is under government or rebel control?"

"Doesn't matter. Neither side has the weaponry to knock us out of the sky. We'll land, secure the airport, and clear all the runways. Which will allow Big Diesel to use the entire tarmac to land safely.

Would you happen to have a better plan in mind?"

"No, sir.... But what you're about to do is, technically, an act of war."

"No shit, Sherlock," Major Elliot said, before heading to the rear of the plane to brief his men on their new mission.

The Boeing Dreamliner touched down in Tazirbu and taxied toward the control tower. Boss's security force hit the ground running. They had the entire airport complex secured within thirty minutes of touchdown. And they did it all without firing a single shot.

It took twenty more minutes to clear burned out vehicles and other debris from a runway, which was wide and long enough to accommodate their Galaxy C-5 cargo plane. Elliot was amazed at how smoothly his hastily conceived plan was progressing. His team was greeted as liberators instead of conquerors.

All that the native people wanted was money. Their loyalty to the government or the rebellion melted away when a few twenty-dollar bills were placed in their hungry hands. Word of the strangers handing out cash, spread faster than a New Mexico wildfire and soon Elliot's team was inundated with smiling, cooperative faces wanting to help. They all expected to be paid, of course.

Within another hour, a fleet of dirt bikes and dune buggies amassed on the desert dunes by the airport. An American was paying big money for locals to drive his men into the Naheer Kingdom. If they were captured on Naheer land, it meant instant death by beheading. But for a few hundred dollars, every Libyan was willing to risk it.

Major Elliot had commandeered the airport's control tower to use as a makeshift headquarters. Through binoculars he watched as the hoard of ragtag vehicles headed for the Naheer Kingdom's border, stirring up a mini dust storm in its wake. The scene looked like something out of a post apocalyptic movie.

He wanted to be in the lead dune buggy, racing toward the gates of hell. But sometimes, leaders had to stay behind, strategize, and coordinate. It pained him to be away from his men, but Elliot knew he had put a good soldier in charge of the strike force, Sergeant Leon Hernandez.

Several hours would have to pass before his men would be in a position to rescue Boss. In two hours, he would order the drones into the sky. The ground troops would be nearing the Naheer Kingdom border by that time. But for the time being, the Major sat down, put his feet up, and relaxed.

A few of his men had stayed behind to keep the airport secure. He'd paid the natives to set up a five-mile perimeter around the airport. Nobody was getting in or out, without his express written permission.

Major Elliot felt the half-empty, canvass bag beside his chair. At the start of the mission, it was full of cash. But what did it really matter? His employer spent more money than that on caviar. And if need be, he could have a truckload of money flown over.

The thought crossed his mind that it might be possible to buy the whole country. All that these people seemed to want was money. Well... money and a full stomach and a boss to tell them what to do, just like everybody else in the world.

The Major made a mental note to mention his idea to Boss after the rescue. If he played his cards just right, he might end up as a puppet dictator. Elliot thought that becoming a dictator would be cool as hell.

Chapt
er 42

Junior walked the floor, while Noi lay on their bed, dressed in pink pajamas, eating potato chips and watching satellite television. Something was wrong. Something had changed. Noi had changed.

It was like a switch had flipped in her brain. The woman, who was once so full of life that it radiated into everyone around her, had become dull and sluggish. She didn't seem to care what Junior was doing or where he was. Strange behavior, considering she came close to killing him for straying from her sight less than a year prior.

Pretending to look out the window, Junior studied Noi's reflection on the glass. She had gained, at least, fifteen pounds since they arrived at the mansion by the oasis in this forsaken desert. Even with her beer-belly bump, she still looked as sexy as any lingerie model.

Her sex drive had all but evaporated. She always seemed to have a headache or another excuse to keep Junior out of her honey pot. And on the rare occasions when Noi allowed Junior to get on top of her, the sex was plain, ordinary missionary with Noi counting down the seconds until it was over with.

"When is Nok getting here?" wondered Junior to himself. "Maybe Noi's sister could bring her out of this funk. Or, at least, get her to brush her teeth and bathe on a regular basis."

Junior was about to wander around outside in the oasis area when the only phone in the room rang. Noi's slothfulness instantly turned into dynamic motion as she jumped out of the bed in one smooth motion and raced to the phone. Junior decided to stick around and try to glean some useful information by eavesdropping.

Noi said, "Hello.... Yes.... I see.... Very good." Then she hung up the phone.

"Good news, I hope," said Junior.

"It's the very best news possible. Nok is on her way! She will be arriving in Prince Abdul's entourage."

"Marvelous, I can't wait to meet her."

Noi walked back to the bed and motioned for Junior to join her. He ran to the bed.

"I have not been treating you very nice, Junior. I want to apologize."

"You don't need to apologize. I know this waiting has been rough on you."

"Yes, it has. And now I want to make it up to you."

"Oh, really?" Junior asked as Noi pulled him close to her and kissed him deeply.

Junior was ecstatic that the old Noi was back. However, her breath smelt like rotting road kill and tasted like death, itself. But he was determined not to ruin the first good mood she'd been in, in what seemed like ages. Junior decided to power through it, besides his excitement was overriding his repulsion.

For a moment, he thought his wife was deliberately trying to gross him out, when she tried to smother him under her armpits. But then again, Noi was always an inventive lover and the lack of oxygen only made their lovemaking hotter. Unfortunately for Junior, foul armpit odor smelled like the sweetest flower compared to other scents he got to inhale during that sex session.

Noi was playful and energetic during their lovemaking. If only she hadn't smelled like a sweaty skunk in a blender, it would have been perfect. Several times, Junior made heaving sounds and came close to vomiting, but he didn't.

After it was over, Noi ordered Junior to take a shower. He was more than happy to comply, but it seemed to him that she needed a bath more than he did.... However, it was great to see Noi in high spirits again.

In the middle of his shower, Junior heard Noi talking to a man. He quickly washed the soap out of his eyes and got out of the shower stall. Throwing on a robe, he rushed out into the bedroom to find Noi standing next to Prince Abdul.

"Greetings, Junior," said Prince Abdul.

"Hello.... Uh, where's Nok?" asked Junior.

"Shall you tell him or should I?" Abdul asked Noi.

"Let me. I've been wanting to do this for so long."

"Very well. Until later then," said Abdul, and he left.

"Follow me," ordered Noi, as she headed to the bathroom.

"What's going on?"

"All things in due time," answered Noi, shedding her clothes and getting in the shower.

"Where's Nok?" asked Junior, who was thrilled that Noi had finally decided to wash the stink off herself.

"There is no Nok. I have two brothers and three sisters, none of who are named Nok."

"What?"

"I am a spy. I work for the highest bidder. Prince Abdul paid me to bring you here, Milton Van Hopenhammer Jr. He wanted you to come willingly. If he had wanted you chopped into tiny pieces, I would have done that, too. Lucky for you, aye?"

"But, but you love me."

"Oh, sure. I love the man, who fucked all those sluts right in front of me. I love a man, who paws at my breast while he is inside another woman. Oh, how much I love you.... Stupid."

"You almost killed me! You said you didn't want to be away from me for one second!"

"Yeah," said Noi as she turned off the water and started toweling off her wet body. "I didn't want you calling or texting the wrong person. All my effort could have been flushed down the toilet like shit.

I work hard for my money, unlike you lazy, fat pig.... Any more questions, darling?"

"Yes, why don't you go fuck yourself?" said Junior furiously, as he stormed out of the bathroom.

"Don't worry about me, dog," yelled Noi. "I have better men than you, begging me to kiss my ass. You lose, loser!"

Junior went to his favorite spot under a palm tree beside the oasis, sat down, and pondered what to do next. He was a prisoner in a gilded cage in a foreign land. Around him stretched desert sands, which seemed to go on forever. Walking through the desert on foot was a death sentence. Staying put, he was at the mercy of his captor, Prince Abdul.

Reasoning, that if the Prince intended to do him any physical harm, he probably would have done it by now, calmed Junior. Panic wouldn't help his situation. If anything, he needed to play it cool and see where things went. And in hindsight, telling a trained killer to go fuck herself, wasn't the brightest idea, he ever had.

When Junior entered the bedroom, all traces of Noi were gone. She had left without so much as a goodbye. It was probably for the best.

Junior was mildly surprised when he noticed Prince Abdul sitting on the sofa in his bedroom. The Prince was looking over some papers pulled from a yellow binder.

Looking up from his work, Abdul said, "Glad to see you are taking things so well. I half expected you to be weeping and suicidal."

"No, that's not me. Life has knocked me down before, and I'm sure it will again before it's all over with."

"Good. And just so you know, Noi was never supposed to physically assault you. It wasn't part of the contract."

"Water under the bridge, Prince Abdul, water under the bridge.... Can I ask, what happens now?"

"Certainly," said the Prince putting his papers back in the binder. "Noi is on her way to report back to her handlers. Your father is on his way here to pay your ransom. Then you and your father are free to fly back to America. Everyone gets what they want."

"But you're rich. I mean really, really rich. Why would you need more money? And I don't see how my father would care if I lived or died. I haven't seen him since I was a kid."

"Ah, yes, you people are very direct: when? where? and why? No formalities, right down to business.... But there are things that you don't need to know.

... Relax, have a beer, watch TV. Your ordeal will be over, soon," stated Prince Abdul on his way out.

Chapter 43

Svetlana had the boundless energy of an insatiable, sex maniac. She kept going and going. It was as if her brain were hardwired to crave constant sexual arousal. If it wasn't for Boss's improved health resulting from his special diet, he would have, literally, been ridden to death.

Halfway through the flight, the pleasure Boss was receiving from the Russian minx turned into pain. The male appendage was only designed to take so much stimulation, and Svetlana wasn't taking 'stop, that hurts' for an answer. She pushed Boss past his limitations into realms he hadn't previously known existed.

It felt like sorcery, but it had to be science. The way Svetlana manipulated his body to keep him aroused for her amusement. Yet, there is a price to be paid for overindulgence, and by the time they landed in Dahab, Boss could barely walk.

Clutching both hands to his genital region like an award winning rapper, Boss gingerly exited the plane with Svetlana assisting him. Every step sent weird, electrical sensations from his toes up to his pelvis. His discomfort was so noticeable that Prince Nalaheb asked if he had hurt his back, somehow.

"No, I'm fine," responded Boss. "Just let me rest a moment."

"You will be more comfortable in the Tahoe," said Nalaheb. "It rides through the desert sands, smooth like duck across pond."

"How far are we riding?" asked Boss, getting into one of the black, Chevy Tahoes lined up beside the jet.

"Four hours, max," stated Prince Nalaheb.

"Shit," mumbled Boss under his breath, as Svetlana slid in beside of him on the leather, bench seat. The chauffer closed the door behind them. Once again, Boss was alone with the giant, Russian woman.

"Look," Boss said in an authoritative tone. "If you mess with my dick anymore, it's going to rupture. And then you're going to be in big trouble. They stone women in this country. You know?"

"Easy, sweet pie," Svetlana said soothingly. "I'm not going to hurt you.

Yes, you enjoyed making the love with me. How could you not? But... you are correct. No more sexy time," she made an over exaggerated sad face. "I so sad. You sad, too, yes?"

"Whatever," said Boss, starting to relax for the first time since leaving Pluto Moon Technologies. He rested his head against the headrest and closed his eyes.

"What you doing?" asked Svetlana.

"Resting."

"Open mouth. I look down throat," ordered Svetlana.

Boss complied and partially opened his eyes to see what she was up to.

"Go like this." Svetlana opened her own mouth and stuck her tongue out. Boss copied her. She almost touched her tongue to her nose. Boss did the same. She wiggled her tongue up and down then side-to-side. Boss mimicked her.

"Good, your tongue works just fine, yes?" asked Svetlana.

"... Oh, son-of-a-bitch!" snapped Boss, when it hit him why she was so interested in his tongue. "No way am I going to do that for four hours. It's over with. Now, you just behave yourself."

Svetlana laid down on the seat with one leg on the floor and the other behind Boss's head. Hiking her short, white skirt up above her bellybutton, she pointed at her vagina and went, "Beep... beep... beep..."

There wasn't any choice. Boss had to keep the beautiful Russian happy, or she would snitch about the hidden transmitter in the D2NS to the Prince. Boss dropped his knees to the floorboard and his head between Svetlana's thighs.

The pain in his crotch and Svetlana’s exacting demands ruined what should have been a pleasant experience. She wanted his tongue working like a vibrator set on its highest speed. She discouraged slacking off by thumping hard on his sore testicles with her freakishly strong, long fingers.

The promised four-hour trip took over five, five of the longest hours of Boss's life. When their SUV finally stopped in front of the mansion in the middle of the desert, Boss had shooting pains in his jaw and tongue to match those in his groin.

As Svetlana helped him out of the Chevy Tahoe, it took all his willpower not to make a break for the D2NS, eject the dual .45s, and kill every last motherfucker he saw. But thanks to his nurse's enthusiasm for rough sex, Boss wasn't in any condition for such exertion at that moment. Besides, he still didn't know if King Jaheal had played any role in his kidnapping.

Before entering Prince Nalaheb's abode, Boss took mental note of the thickness of the walls and construction of the front door, which could double as a door to a bank vault. The place was more of a fortress than a regular mansion. Whoever controlled that door, controlled the whole building.

Prince Abdul was waiting inside, and greeted his brother with a hug and a kiss to both cheeks, as was custom. He then did the same to Boss.

"Mr. Boss!" exclaimed Abdul. "It is so good to meet you after hearing so much about you. I trust your trip went well... under the circumstances."

After licking his lips and trying to get some feeling, back into his jaw, Boss said, "You have me at a disadvantage. Who, may I ask, are you?"

"How rude of me. I am Prince Abdul Naheer, son of King Jaheal Naheer."

"I am a friend of King Naheer.... Does he know that you've kidnapped me, and stolen from my company?"

"Whoa, I think you have been misinformed. Please, come with me, and we'll straighten this whole thing out," said Prince Abdul, who then turned to his brother and spoke in Arabic. "Nalaheb, have the device brought to my study. I will try to calm our captive. You stay out of sight until I say so."

"Yes, my brother," replied Prince Nalaheb, who busied himself by telling his entourage where to go and what to do. Svetlana managed to lose herself amongst the bustling throng.

Prince Abdul and Boss walked slowly toward the rear of the building. The Prince pointed out artworks and features that might interest his reluctant guest. Boss was legitimately impressed with the building's architecture. It begged the questions of 'how was it built' and 'by whom'.

They entered a room, which was a cross between a library and a traditional Arabic lounging area. Colorful curtains hung from the ceiling for no apparent reason other than for decoration. And instead of western chairs, the room had massive pillows upon which to sit.

Boss collapsed on top of a giant, purple pillow, spread his legs wide apart, and rested. If he could get an hours worth of rest, he was fairly certain that he could kill everyone in the place with the twin .45s in the Day-2-Night Scrambler, which had been fortuitously rolled into the same room he was in, right beside the door.

"Would you like to see your son, now?" asked Prince Abdul.

"Whatever," said Boss.

"... OK, then," responded Abdul, backing out of the room.