The Zentraedi Rebellion by Jack McKinney

The Zentraedi Rebellion by Jack McKinney

Author:Jack McKinney [McKinney, Jack]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 978-0-307-82397-7
Publisher: Random House Publishing Group
Published: 2014-02-18T16:00:00+00:00


Much to Malone’s grudging admiration, the captain refused to call it a bad deal and return home. “We’re out a grand, but Cassidy’s out a lot more than that,” Wolfe had said. “He’ll come through. And if he doesn’t, I’ll personally replace the thousand we lost and we’ll start from scratch.”

But it never came to that. The Irish fence contacted them at the hotel on Reforma Nueva: the shipment had been retrieved and there was something he wanted them to hear. They were to leave at once for an address on Victoria.

The address corresponded to a theater out by the pyramids. Teotihuacan’s Temple of the Sun—partially stripped for building materials—loomed over everything in the area. At the theater entrance, Wolfe and Malone were frisked by two armed Zentraedi sporting dark glasses, then escorted inside. A handful of Cassidy henchmen seated in the front rows were applauding and whistling in a mocking fashion.

On stage were Cassidy himself—left arm in a sling—and two others: an aged, dark-complected man in a bloodstained surgical gown, and the obvious source of that blood, a Zentraedi woman gagged and tied to an armchair. Just now her head was bent forward, and her long brown hair was touching her bare knees. The hair concealed much of her torso, and for that—and arriving late—Wolfe was grateful. If she wasn’t already dead, she would be soon.

“Ah, and it’s a fine day in Freetown,” Cassidy said in a theatrical voice. He gestured to the torturer. “Soldiers, meet Antonio Ramos … interpreter.”

Like Neela Saam, Ramos was a notorious name in Freetown. A noted heart surgeon before the War, he now controlled the trade in narcotics throughout Central America and was rumored to dabble in ritual black magic.

“I told you we’d find them, and so we have,” Cassidy continued. “Three were killed defending the truck they stole from me, but we’ve learned a good deal from this one.”

He walked to the chair and lifted the woman’s head by the hair; she was certainly dead. Malone clamped a hand over his mouth and angled his head away from the stage.

“The four were members of a group that calls itself the Senburu, though I’ve no proof that Neela set them on us. This one claimed they’ve been watching the Crimson Ghosts for some time, knowing the Ghosts are providing weapons and parts to any and all buyers—even those whose aims aren’t always in synch with the malcontents.”

Wolfe was appalled by Cassidy’s sadism, but forced himself to ask the man what else the Zentraedi had revealed about the Senburu.

“Only that they’re not operating in Mexico, as I was led to believe, but in the Southlands.”

“Where in the Southlands?” Wolfe pressed.

“She was mute on that point. But she did confess that her group needed the tank parts.”

Wolfe’s brow furrowed. “Did she say why?”

“For something she called a ‘stinger.’ ”



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