Returning Fire: A Mace Franklyn Murder Mystery by Frans Harmon

Author:Frans Harmon [Harmon, Frans]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: FJ Harmon Services, Inc
Published: 2019-12-01T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twenty-Seven

In the basement room leading to the courtyard, Sar stood at a long table, removing the stuffing from the vests and replacing it with packets of C4. A sudden stab of pain stopped him. He clutched his stomach and gasped for breath.

“You don’t look so good, Sar,” Sar heard Ulama say.

“It is the cancer, my Ulama.”

“Allah’s gift to make you strong, time to prepare.”

Sar sank into a chair near the table, nodding his head. Ulama was in his wheelchair a few feet away, facing him. “Allah be praised, it is his will that we will complete this.”

As he waited for the pain to subside, Sar studied the man in the wheelchair. His fragility pained him. Both orphaned by tragically dysfunctional families. Later adopted under one roof, they became brothers. In their teens, they discovered a common bond their hatred for women who did not understand their submissive role, to speak only when asked, and never to think beyond how to please their men.

“We share many memories, my Ulama,” Sar said to him. Holy prayer and attending Mosque were something Sar did only to satisfy others, but his brother never missed an opportunity for either. It is why Sar, after the fall, now addressed his brother as his Ulama, his spiritual leader.

“We had a life of joy and purpose. If he had only left us alone, we could have continued Allah’s work,” Sar lamented. “I remember our first, the day we discovered our purpose, do you remember my Ulama?”

Sar looked at him, he remained silent but did appear to nod. “Dad never understood and carries with him a sadness. Yearning for what his heart desired, but repulsed his mind, Mandisa.”

“We saved him from such misery,” Ulama said. “Mandisa was ambitious, not a proper wife, took over the business. Dad was little more than a servant in his own home.”

Sar bunched his lips and nodded as he stood. The subsiding pain freeing him to resume his task. “She was very unkind, Mandisa was, told us to leave our home for the basement room, the basement of all useless places.”

“With your help, I fed her to the fire, as the others.”

“Yes,” Sar said, “how we danced, fulfilling Allah’s work.”

“We told him she had left, Dad was content to have his freedom again, never sought more answers.”

Sar slowly shook his head. “But the happiness did not last, did it, my Ulama? You were sad, you loved the dance, the fulfillment. We needed another to confirm our purpose.”

Sar stared at his brother, a tear rolled down his cheek. “But then he interfered, he did this to you, created such a burden. But no matter. In a week’s time, we will be with Allah and the virgins. Our offering of many deaths, including Mr. Franklyn, will bring us peace and Allah’s forgiveness.”

“He has slipped your grasp twice before,” his brother reminded him.

Sar nodded. “He is blind when it comes to his friend Sharlene. I have made it easy for him.”

“She used the phone.”

“Yes, my Ulama, as we planned.

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