Page 45 of Murder Island

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Page 45 of Murder Island

This was no game.

And I didn’t come this far to die in the woods.

I stayed low behind the trunk and drew my bowstring. I made my mental calculations of distance and height. I glanced up into the leaves for wind direction. The rest happened in an instant. I rolled into a kneeling position and aimed. The smoke was just clearing from the last volley.

I sent the arrow.

A half second later, I saw a figure drop from the stand and jerk to a stop, dangling by one ankle. A rifle clattered against branches as it fell.

Then all I heard were birds.

I reached into my quiver and notched another shaft. I saw my teammates break from cover and start advancing.

I wondered who the hell I’d just killed. But did it really matter?

It was him or me.

CHAPTER 54

DINNER AT THE castle that night felt like a medieval bacchanal. After the shoot-out in the forest, a fleet of jeeps had appeared. Masked guards with tasers and pistols escorted us back to the castle. When we arrived in the great hall, the table was filled with platters of grilled steaks, bowls of fried potatoes, and pitchers of cold beer.

The guards disappeared. Leo was nowhere to be seen. But I had no doubt he could see us.

I was eager to find out more about my squadmates. They were the strong, silent type, and our cells were all in different parts of the bunker. So far, I’d only picked out last names. Thanks to my fancy cutlass, I was still “Aladdin” to everybody. After the second round of beers, I started asking questions.

After the third round, I started getting some answers.

Crew Cut’s name was Blodgett. Turned out he was a former professional wrestler from Iowa. First name Neil. The guy with the walrus mustache was Jack Fenwick, a triathlete from Scotland. He had a brogue so thick I could barely decipher it.

The guy with the blond ponytail was Johnny Harper. He’d worked as a bouncer in Hamburg and a bodyguard in Iran. T.J. Tagaloa, The Rock’s doppelgänger, was an Ironman competitor from Hawaii. Brooks Marley, the Black guy, was retired from Delta Force. He put the wordretiredin air quotes. We left it at that.

Blodgett pointed his fork at me. “What about you, Aladdin?”

“My name is Brandt,” I said. “I’m a professor of anthropology.”

Marley snorted. I could tell he thought I was a total bullshitter. I could only imagine how they’d react if I told them I was also known as Doc Savage.

The other guys were digging into the feast, but I didn’t have much of an appetite. The thought of blood-rare steak wasn’t sitting well.

“Who was the shooter in the woods?” I asked.

“Disposable,” said Blodgett, his mouth full of meat.

“Meaning what?” I said.

Fenwick put down a stein of beer, leaving foam dripping from his mustache. “Disposable. Some loser who washed out of training, or maybe tried to escape. Leo keeps a few around for cannon fodder.”

“Could happen to any of us,” said Harper. “So stay sharp.”

If Leo was building an army, I hadn’t seen much evidence of it. For the whole time I’d been here, these five guys were my only comrades. Maybe he was keeping his forces separated. Maybe he had cells of operatives in different locations around the world. Or maybe the six of us were just the vanguard—the few, the proud, the huge.

“What are we doing here—really?” I asked. I was still wondering if Leo was delusional or deranged.

“We’re getting ready to take back a third of a continent,” Harper said.

“And get rich doing it,” added Tagaloa.

At least we’d all been told the same story.




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