Wild Storm: A Derrick Storm Thriller by Richard Castle

Author:Richard Castle
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Tags: Action & Adventure, Mystery & Detective, General, Thrillers, Fiction, Media Tie-In
ISBN: 9781484711422
Publisher: Kingswell
Published: 2014-05-13T00:00:00+00:00

THE STARS WERE JUST BEGINNING to fade when an ancient, diesel-reeking livestock truck slowed to a stop by the side of a little-used road, air brakes hissing, suspension creaking.

In Arabic lettering on the side, Storm could make out H. MASSRI PROPRIETOR. In a much larger font were two words that Storm wished he had never seen put together: CAMEL RENTAL.

“Seriously?” Storm said. “Rent-a-camel?”

“Grow up,” Strike said under her breath as she waved at the driver.

“Hello, hello!” Massri said in cheerful, accented English. “You are Mr. and Mrs. Sullivan, yes?”

“Sullivan?” Storm said. “You know, I’ve never liked the name Sullivan.”

“Grow up faster,” Strike said through clenched teeth, then in a louder, more chipper voice said, “Yes, yes, that’s us!”

Massri was already scurrying along the side of the truck, toward the trailer, where he opened up the back door to reveal two light brown, single-hump camels, one about seven feet high, and the other about six. A wall of stink poured out, assaulting their noses.

“Congratulations on your wedding, Mr. and Mrs. Sullivan. I am so pleased you have chosen to spend your honeymoon in this manner. It is my great honor to introduce you to Antony and Cleopatra. They are my most romantic camels.”

Massri led the shorter one out first. “This is Cleopatra. She is a very sweet girl. The best I have. You know, the word ‘camel’ comes from an Arabic word that means ‘beauty.’ Isn’t she beautiful? I have a mind to take her to the South Sinai Camel Festival, where I think she will have a most excellent chance to win a prize. You can go ahead and pet her if you like, Mrs. Sullivan.”

Massri had led the female camel down the ramp and handed her reins to Strike, who lightly pet Cleopatra’s muzzle. The camel responded by closing her eyes and stretching her neck to get her face closer to Strike’s.

“I can tell she likes you very much. Most excellent,” Massri said, then returned to the truck.

“And this is Antony,” he said, grabbing the animal’s halter and yanking. “He is also a most excellent camel. A champion camel in his own right. Very well trained. Very well bred. His father was one of the great racing camels of our time. This camel, he can run like the wind blows, Mr. Sullivan.”

Storm could see that was true—but only if it was a very still day. Antony was not running. Or walking. Or planning to leave the trailer without a fight. The animal’s rump was pinned against the back of the pen, and he kept it there even as Massri tugged his chin forward. Antony signaled his displeasure with a loud, growling belch.

“As you can see, I have already loaded the camels with everything you will need for a three-day journey in the desert,” Massri said. “They should not need water during that time. But if you should happen upon an oasis, it is okay to let the camels drink. They can drink up to forty gallons in three minutes.”

Antony still wasn’t budging.

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