Sacrifice. Alex Archer

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СКАЧАТЬ man nodded. “I can tell. You have that look about you. My friend here doesn’t intimidate you much, does he?”

      Annja smiled. “Who are you?”

      “My name is Agamemnon.”

      “You’re joking, right?” Annja said.

      Agamemnon grinned. “My parents. What can you do? They grew up with this fixation on Mount Olympus. They named us all after the gods and goddesses of mythology. My brother was named Midas.”

      “Was?” Annja asked.

      “Government troops killed him while he slept. Him and his young bride. They were but twenty years old.”

      Annja flexed her wrists. The cuffs still held her tight. “I’m sorry for your loss. Really.”

      “Thank you,” he said quietly.

      “Is this really necessary?” Annja asked, hoping she could talk her way out of her predicament.

      Agamemnon shrugged. “Is anything we do ever really necessary?”

      “You tell me—you’re the one in control right now.”

      “Yes.” Agamemnon nodded. “I am indeed. And unfortunately, your death will help to convince the government we are truly serious.”

      “Since when have you had trouble with the government thinking you aren’t serious?” Annja asked.

      Agamemnon came down the steps. Annja could see he looked to be in his late thirties. His close-cropped hair was still jet-black. His eyebrows hung over his dark eyes like heavy velvet drapes. The way he walked reminded Annja of some of the more ferocious fighters she’d met in her lifetime. Agamemnon was thin, but he resonated with strength and cunning.

      He stopped just short of coming into range if Annja had decided to try to kick him. “Ever since the American troops started hunting us, the government has considered us a has-been organization,” he explained.

      “I didn’t realize the U.S. forces had done so much damage to your organization,” she said.

      Agamemnon stepped on his cigarette butt and ground it under his foot. “They hunt us when they can find us. Their special-operations troops are quite skilled at navigating the jungle. Even though we know it like the back of our hand, they are quick to adapt and learn our tactics. I have lost many soldiers since they started combing the islands for us.”

      “And so now you’ve taken to kidnapping?”

      Agamemnon shrugged. “We kidnap high-profile targets in the hope that our cause gets publicity, drives more recruits to us, and that the ransoms get paid. That money helps fund our operations in Manila and other places.”

      “I see.” Annja saw that several other members of the impromptu village had come out of their huts. Agamemnon certainly seemed to hold sway over them; they seemed to be hanging on his every word.

      “These are my people,” he said spreading his arms as if about to hug them all. “I’ve led them through some harrowing incidents. They trust me completely and I do believe they would follow me straight into the depths of hell itself if need be.”

      “I don’t doubt it,” Annja said. “And I have no doubt they trust you completely. But I still don’t see why you need to kill me.”

      “Because our intended target was not picked up. The plan cannot be canceled just because of that one simple flaw,” he said.

      “I won’t get you any type of respect. I’m a nobody,” Annja said.

      Agamemnon shook his head. “Nonsense. You said it yourself—you’re a television personality. I’m sure a woman as lovely as yourself has thousands of devoted fans.”

      “I don’t think the number’s that high. It’s just an offbeat history show on cable.”

      Agamemnon frowned. “I don’t follow.”

      Annja shook her head. “The show is a bit of a joke. No one takes it seriously,” she said.

      “We will videotape your beheading and then broadcast it all over the world. Your death will help us reestablish ties to our friends in other regions. It will also serve as a call for others to join us and help overthrow the government.”

      “Beheading?” Annja asked, horrified.

      Agamemnon unsheathed a large knife hanging at his side. “Unfortunately, the world has grown desensitized to shootings. People see thousands of them on TV and in the movies. Simply shooting someone has no impact. But decapitation, well, that is something else again.”

      Annja swallowed hard. Having her head sliced off wasn’t what she’d imagined coming to the Philippines would entail. And the thought of that knife cutting into her neck sent adrenaline flooding into her veins.

      I have to get out of here, she thought. She closed her eyes and saw the sword hanging where it always did when not in use. If she could just get it and get free of her cuffs, she could cut these butchers down and then disappear into the jungle.

      But where would she go?

      She frowned. It didn’t matter. Anything was better than staying here and waiting for her head to be lopped off.

      “Annja?”

      She opened her eyes. Agamemnon was staring at her intently. Annja coughed and cleared her throat. “I wasn’t expecting to be killed in that fashion. You don’t strike me as being that barbaric,” she said angrily.

      Agamemnon laughed. “Oh, but I am. Trust me.”

      Annja flexed her wrists. There was no give in the cuffs. If she didn’t get them off, she was as good as dead. And by the sound of it, beheading wasn’t exactly a quick and painless event unless done by guillotine. Being hacked off with a knife sounded extremely painful and messy.

      “I need to pray,” she blurted.

      Agamemnon frowned. “What?”

      Annja looked at him. “I need to pray. Surely you wouldn’t begrudge me a final chance to make amends with my god before you kill me?”

      Agamemnon lit a fresh cigarette. “Forgive me for saying so, Miss Creed, but you don’t exactly strike me as the religious type. I’ve killed missionaries before. They walked with much more an air of God than you do.”

      “And you’ve never heard of people finding religion right before they die?” Annja said.

      “I have.”

      “Then you should have enough respect for me—if only for what my death will represent to your cause—to grant me a few final moments of inner peace.”

      Agamemnon sighed. “Very well. I will give you five minutes to pray. I suggest you use it well.”

      Annja turned herself slightly. “I need the cuffs removed, please.”

      “Why?”

      “My СКАЧАТЬ