Siren in the Wind Book One of the MIT Series

Chapter Forty One

The helicopter landed just north of Johannesburg at Lanseria Airport. Max leapt onto the runway, followed by Donnie, Slater, and Anton. Go-bags were provided as they raced to a private aircraft, fueled and ready for takeoff. Mandla Nkosi and Johnny greeted Max at the bottom of the stairs. Johnny dude-hugged him before breaking the news. "Khalid hired additional help. We didn't get there in time. Our drone saw five men entering Noleen's safe house. They're holding them hostage until Khalid arrives."

Mandla grabbed Max's bag. "My six-man team got there as quickly as they could but we were too late."

"For fuck's sake. Do those mercenaries know your men are watching?" Max asked.

"My unit is keeping a low profile. They commandeered a vacation home across the way."

That gave them a good site to work from, but Gabriel was now also Khalid's captive, and that messed with Max's head.

Mandla stepped in his way. "There's more."

"Unless it involves miraculously getting to Cape Town before Khalid, there's no time." Max pushed past, but Mandla's next words stopped him in his tracks.

"Twenty minutes ago, a private jet matching Khalid's rental made an emergency landing at Kimberley Airport."

Max turned slowly. "What kind of emergency landing?"

Donnie placed a hand on his shoulder and Max shrugged it off.

Making his way past Max up the stairs, Mandla called out, "I'll explain onboard. With luck on our side, we may just get to the Cape before Khalid does. This is the delay we need."

"Why aren't we heading to Kimberley?" Ignoring the throbbing ankle, Max motored up the stairs. "What the fucking hell happened?" He wouldn't pander to Mandla and his goons. Max was grateful for their help but needed intel, and if Mandla wasn't a team player, then he was dead weight.

"Grab a drink of water, you need hydration, and we'll need to patch up that foot."

Max wasn't interested in grabbing a drink. For the first time in his career, his skin crawled with panic. If Khalid or his fucked-up band of merry men had harmed Abby in any way, Max would gut them alive. Roman worried him most, they needed more intel on the sick bastard.

"SITREP now! What the hell happened in Kimberley?"

"I have an informant who's a Chief Engineer at Kimberley Airport," Mandla said.

Max cut in. "You have informants everywhere. Get on with it."

Mandla raised an eyebrow at Max's rude tone but continued, "A Gulfstream matching the description requested an emergency landing. After landing, the pilot wouldn't allow airport personnel to board the jet. My man, however, got close enough to hear the altercation between airport security and the people on board. It looked like a decompression. A blown-out cabin window. Someone caught a glimpse of blood in the cabin."

Max's stomach dropped.

"Was anyone injured?" Slater asked.

"They couldn't get close enough to confirm injuries, but my informant detected a nasty smell wafting through the door. The telltale mix of blood and feces."

Signs that a recent death occurred. Someone died onboard that aircraft, it could very well be his beautiful Abigail.

"What's the flying time to Kimberley?"

Mandla raised his hand, but Max barreled on, "What are you waiting for? Let's fucking move!" If he raised his voice, he didn't give a flying fuck.

Johnny tried to calm him back into his seat. "We're too late for Kimberley, by the time we get there, Khalid will be gone. Cape Town is the only option, and if we leave now, we might just beat them to it."

"Tell the pilot to get us the fuck out of here," Max snapped. Ignoring his men's careful glances, Max clipped the belt, hands shaking. It wasn't going down like this. Worry combined with a lethal need for vengeance seared a hole in his gut.

Mandla spoke carefully. "If Khalid gets there first, I could give my unit the green light to engage. Or I could have a welcome party meet them when they land."

"And if Evans gets killed in the crossfire? There is no way that you'll be risking hostages' lives without MIT2's boots on the ground."

"They're an excellent team, all former SF boys."

"If that little boy or his mother gets hurt because some cowboy operator is trying to save the day, I'll kill him, and you'll be next on my hit list. Your men will stand down."

Mandla nodded before turning to the cockpit.

Donnie slipped into the adjacent seat. "Stop shitting blood, buddy. You can't run around like a Rambo banshee on meth. We need to take Khalid alive."

Max gritted his teeth so hard, he thought his jaw would crack. "Someone died on that aircraft. One unarmed woman against five armed thugs. You do the math."

"It wasn't Evans."

"You don't know that."

"Our girl has spunk and moxie and an incredible brain. I think she caused the decompression. She knows we're on their tail and that was no accident."

"What if it got her killed?" Max's eyes burned.

"It may have. But we can't let her down. She's doing her part, and it's now our turn. Mr. 'Cool as Ice' Max needs to come out and play—if for no other reason than to save that little boy."

"I fucked everything up, saying stupid-ass things to her that were untrue. She went with Muller to save me, and I basically told her that she was a selfish bitch looking after her own ass."

"That's fucked up. Why would you say that?" Donnie asked.

"In our line of work, we're used to seeing people screw others over to save themselves. We deal with selfish cowards all the time who sell out and betray their loved ones. I jumped to conclusions, thinking she chose Kris over me. He has a measure of control over her."

"Abby would never do that. Especially knowing what Muller's capable of. She'd never choose his black soul over the ones she loves."

"I know that! Being chained to the floor made me go insane. I couldn't stop her hurt or the fear and instead of making it better, I made it worse. Stupid jealousy could've got the woman I love killed and God, do I love her. I love her so damn much."

Slater squeezed Max's shoulder from the seat behind. "We're here for you, brother. The first step is getting to Cape Town. After that, when we've kicked dickhead ass and she's safe and sound, then you can grovel for forgiveness, Finnish style—build her a longboat or a sauna or something."

"Screw off, Slater," Donnie said. "Find a bottle of Axe spray to drown in." He opened his laptop as the plane took off. "Let's get to work. I'm pulling up an aerial view of the address."

Max closed his eyes and took a steadying breath. Time to do his job, and failure would not be an option.