The Empty Land (A Hunter Kincaid Novel) - Page 23

t will work.”

Riffey was pleased he wasn’t being ridiculed this time. “What are we going to do there?”

“Perform a test. You will have the honor of leading us.”

***

Riffey didn’t like the sound of it, or the look in crazy-ass Holland’s eyes. “I don’t mind taking a back seat on it, boss, whatever it is.”

“You will lead.” Holland’s look told Riffey not to say another word. Holland continued, “Guests will arrive tonight from El Paso. We will double the security around the ranch while they are here.”

One of the men asked, “How many are coming?”

“Two. A man and a woman.”

Riffey blurted out, “A woman?” He instantly regretted it.

Holland said, “You will stand night guard tonight, Riffey, and tomorrow, you will lead us to your village.”

Riffey let his thumb touch the butt of his hidden pistol and said, “I live to serve, boss.”

Holland gave him a look, checking to see if Riffey was talking back, but the ex-soldier and drug runner turned his back to walk out of the room.

The guests arrived in a Suburban at two AM. The woman was a brunette, with short hair peeking out from under a black headscarf. The man was lighter skinned, with a short, trimmed beard, and brown eyes. Holland said, “As-salamu alaykum,” in greeting.

The man said, “Wa-alaykumu s-salam.” He and Holland unloaded two small metal tanks from the back of the vehicle. The tanks were the size and appearance of propane tanks for gas barbecue grills, but were unmarked. They placed them outside the big barn’s doors, then returned to the house. The man stopped to retrieve a shiny aluminum briefcase from the Suburban, and followed the woman through the door as Holland opened it for them. Riffey tagged behind.

The brown-eyed man placed the suitcase on the coffee table in the living room. Riffey stepped to the side and put his back against the wall, crossing his arms as he watched. The woman opened the case. Riffey leaned to the side to see around Holland. The open case showed a foam-padded interior with cutouts for each item inside. He thought it was odd that the contents were all made of glass. The woman pointed at one, a clear bottle filled with a liquid the color and consistency of engine oil. Holland said, “Self activated?”

The woman said, “Yes.” She pointed at a second bottle, “This one’s a reserve supply.” Riffey didn’t have a clue what they were talking about, and he had to bite his tongue to keep from asking. He looked at the other items: a dozen glass rods, like long swizzle sticks with fat tips of spun fiberglass, so each one looked like an overlarge cue-tip.

“Thank you, Crystal. How is activity on the American side?”

Crystal said, “We’re ahead of schedule.” Her eyes shone, “Caliph Ibrahim sent word that he is very pleased. We will open everyone’s eyes in a few days.” She asked Holland, “You found a test area?”

“Yes.” He pointed at Riffey, “He has the perfect place located.”

“She nodded at Riffey, “Well done.”

Riffey was so surprised, he didn’t answer. Holland didn’t offer praise.

She said, “We also received word from our headquarters in Mosul. They’ll be watching the news networks.”

“Excellent.” Holland motioned to the back of the house. “We have a room made up for both of you.”

The man said, “No need. We’re driving back tonight.”

Holland nodded, “I will inform you of the test results.”

“Good.” Crystal paused, “Have there been any repercussions from the spy or the Mexican?”

Holland said, “Nothing of concern.” Crystal nodded, and then she and the man left the ranch.

When Riffey went outside to continue his guard shift, all he could think about was the metal suitcase and the items inside. He muttered, “What is going on?” His imagination ran the gamut until the first graying of the eastern sky made him so sleepy that he moved to the barn and sat on a bale of hay, reclining his back against the wall. He was asleep in less than a minute.

***

Mona Ingram swung a big Stanley coffee thermos in one hand as she walked in the predawn darkness, the two dogs moving like speckled white ghosts ahead of her.

Tags: Billy Kring Thriller
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