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  "For emergencies," responded Svetlana, who began taking off her clothes. "Your father is a very bad man. He is now property of the New World Order."

  As her perfect breasts were released from their confining bra, Junior gasped at their magnificence. He had seen more than his share of boobs, but Svetlana's were a work of art, worthy of being hung in the Louvre.

  "Wow!" exclaimed Junior.

  "Why are you staring at my body?" asked Svetlana, while dusting away sand trapped in her crevices.

  "Amazing," Junior said, unable and unwilling to avert his gaze from the goddess. He immediately noticed that her vagina was swollen, engorged from some sort of recent excitement.

  "Look," said Svetlana, as she started to clothe herself in a sports bra and conservative, white cotton panties. "If you want to become something other than an overfed slug, then you will come with me. You have much potential, or so say the Powers that I work for.

  Stay or go. Choose now."

  Junior continued to watch her dressing and sliding weaponry into hidden holsters and concealed pockets. He didn't know what to do.

  "If I go with you, does that mean you're my girlfriend?"

  "Ha ha," laughed the tall, female warrior. "I would destroy you. Very few men can handle me, and even fewer will ever get the chance.... I'll make deal. You last one year, then we'll talk, yes?"

  Like they had, time and time before, Junior's hormones made the decision for him. "I'll go."

  "Of course, you will," said Svetlana as she pulled Junior by the arm, toward the door behind her. "All men think with penis. All men."

  Chapter 46

  All the drones had gone offline. Even the satellite phones carried by some of his men were not working, which left Major Elliot climbing the walls of the control tower in Tazirbu, Libya. Someone or something was blocking all signals going into and out of the Naheer Kingdom.

  As a gaggle of geeks worked on fixing the communication problem, Elliot wondered if he had made a tactical mistake, not leading his men from the front. But hindsight was 20/20 and useless. Now, he had to find a way to get those drones back online, or the mission might go FUBAR.

  "Give me a status report, Eugene," Major Elliot commanded.

  A skinny man wearing thick plastic glasses responded, "We're working on it. It's like an EMP (electromagnetic pulse) fried everything in the field. But I don't think that's it."

  "Then what is it?"

  "I'm not sure, but I think there may be some sort of jamming device, blocking our transmissions. But it would have to be unbelievably intense to block all of our satellite data link systems, too."

  "Could a jamming device knock the drones down?"

  "Highly unlikely. The planes should keep flying on their last trajectory. As long as we get them back online within a couple of hours, they should stay airborne.... At least, in theory."

  "How about the satellite phones? Anyway to force a message through to my sergeant?"

  "No. Whatever is screwing up our signals, will block anything we try. But... the good news is that whatever is doing the jamming has to be using an unbelievable amount of electricity, like 100 million kilowatts. I don't know what kind of generator they have that could produce that kind of power."

  "What's your best guess of how long they can keep up the jamming?" Elliot asked, with his arms folded tightly against his chest.

  "Just an educated guess... five minutes."

  "Shit," cursed Elliot.

  Chapter 47

  Junior followed closely behind Svetlana. He carried her duffel bag and medical cooler. She had instructed him to stay close but not too close, whatever that meant.

  Nobody had tried to stop them up to this point, and now they were almost at the front door, guarded by two men holding AK-47s. The bigger guard ordered them to stop. Svetlana put her hands above her head and slowly moved closer to the guards, who pointed their weapons squarely at her.

  "Where you," were the only words one of the guards managed to say before Svetlana sprayed them with a clear liquid mist, which jetted from her wristwatch. They instantly fell to the floor like sacks of potatoes.

  "Are they dead?" asked Junior, mildly shocked.

  "No, they are temporarily paralyzed," said Svetlana, stepping over their prone bodies and out the door. "We don't kill unless necessary. We are not animals."

  "... O... K," Junior said, quickening his pace to catch up with her.

  Svetlana went to the first Tahoe in line, opened the passenger door, and slid over into the driver's seat. "Get in," she ordered.

  By the time Junior had managed to load her bag, cooler, and himself in the cab, Svetlana took off, sending a cloud of sand into the air in her wake.

  "Seatbelt," she ordered.

  "Right," said Junior. He put on his seat belt, noticed that she hadn't put hers on, but wisely chose to not say anything about it. "Do you have a destination in mind, or are we winging it?"

  "I know what I am doing," Svetlana replied.

  She drove the vehicle so fast that it caught air with every sand dune they drove over. Junior dug his fingers into the leather seat and wondered if he would die in a car crash or from dehydration when they ran out of gas in the middle of the desert.

  Ten minutes later, Svetlana stopped in a small valley between two monstrous sand dunes. She got out and started walking, after ordering Junior to bring her things.

  "Where are we going? There's nothing out here. You can't walk out in the middle of the desert in the noonday heat with no water and expect to live very long."

  "Really?" Svetlana asked, while she looked at her watch. "Have some faith."

  At that moment, a strange feeling came over Junior, and he felt compelled to look up. A circular aircraft was hovering above them. It was completely silent and wasn't stirring up any sand.

  "What in the hell is that?"

  "Do not fear. It is not U.F.O. It's latest technology in aviation."

  A rope ladder fell from the center of the craft to the ground. Svetlana took her duffle bag and cooler from Junior and began climbing up the rope, effortlessly.

  "What you waiting for?" Svetlana called down to Junior, when she was already halfway up the rope ladder.

  Junior took one last look around him, and then started the long climb upward. He was excited, confused, and a little scared. Just like the first time he had sex.

  Chapter 48

  "You said five minutes!" yelled Major Elliot at his head nerd, Eugene. "And that was over twenty minutes ago!"

  "Hey, I'm more surprised than you are," responded Eugene calmly. "I'd give my right arm to check out the tech that's doing this."

  Sarcastically, Elliot said, "I'm so happy that you're impressed." Then the video feed from the drones came back on the monitors. The Major picked up a satellite phone, and Sergeant Leon Hernandez was on the other end.

  "What's happening, Hernandez?"

  Covered head to toe in dust, using one hand to hang on to the frame of his dune buggy, Leon shouted over the roaring engine into his satphone, "We are about thirty minutes out from target. Lost signal, but it's back now."

  "I'm counting on you, Hernandez. Don't let me down."

  "No, sir. Don't worry. I've got this under control."

  Chapter 49

  Prince Abdul led Prince Nalaheb into the room where Boss waited patiently. Abdul closed the door behind them.

  "My brother has told me the good news," said Prince Nalaheb to Boss.

  "Oh really," answered Boss. "And what might that good news be?"

  "That you have decided to sell us the Day-2-Night Scrambler and not tell father," Prince Nalaheb answered with a puzzled look.

  Silently, behind his brother's back, Abdul drew the bejeweled dagger from his waistband, reached around his brother's neck, and slashed Nalaheb's throat. Blood sprayed everywhere. Nalaheb desperately tried to hold the wound closed with both of his hands to no avail. A sickening, gurgling sound emanated from Nalaheb as he dropped to his knees then hard on the floor. />
  Before Prince Abdul had time to be horrified by his own murdering, blood-soaked hands, Boss punched the three digits at once into the D2NS, which caused the twin .45's to spring forth. He stabbed at the keypad again and a bulletproof shield shot up, partially surrounding him. Boss pushed a hidden panel on the contraption with his foot and the D2NS anticipated his every motion and moved in kind.

  "Are there any more royals in the compound?" asked Boss.

  "... What?" asked Prince Abdul, who was on the verge of shock at what he'd just done.

  "Don't freak out on me, Abdul," Boss commanded in a loud, firm voice. "Listen to me. Are there any more sons or daughters or wives of King Jaheal here?"

  "Not anymore," said Abdul looking down at his brother who had almost bled out. "But, but my men will take care of Nalaheb's guards. We will be safe, in here."

  "Yeah, the thing about that is... I'm going to kill all of them. Dead men tell no tales."

  "Rest assured, my men are loyal. They would never betray me."

  "Yeah, don't care. I didn't come all this way, not to shoot people. Now, you stay in here. Try to ignore all this," Boss said while gesturing toward the gory remains of Prince Nalaheb. "Go rest on those big pillows over there. Try the chocolate covered almonds, they're very tasty."

  The little fortress on wheels made whirling and cog cranking noises as it struggled to stay in perfect position in front of Boss. As it went through the doorway, Boss fired off four rounds, which hit the four guards standing on the far side of the wide hallway in their skulls. They were dead before they hit the floor.

  The shielding on the D2NS in front of Boss, dampened some of the sound waves from the gunshots, but then they bounced off the stonewalls, granite floors, and dark glass ceiling. The net effect was like standing in front of speakers at a heavy metal concert.

  "Earplugs, damn-it!" Boss said to himself. "Why the hell didn't I have earplugs put in this machine?"

  The gunshots had the same effect as throwing rocks at a hornets' nest. Armed combatants swarmed through both sides of the hallway. Thanks to intensive training on the firing range, Boss was able to target and fire both of his weapons simultaneously. Seven brains exploded from their skulls before their compatriots decided it best to not blindly charge into the line of fire.

  The rush of battle cleared Boss's mind. He could see that this wasn't going to be a turkey shoot. First, he rushed into a firefight without complete knowledge of the building's layout. Second, his hands were exposed. One lucky shot and he'd lose a hand and, more importantly, a gun.

  A guard, who'd seen too many action films, dived into the hallway, firing his selective-fire AK-47 on full automatic. One of Boss's bullets hit the man's head before his body could hit the floor, but the dead man's AK-47 sprayed lead across Boss's bulletproof shield. The shower of bullets ricocheted in all directions. A bullet hit one of Nalaheb's men in the leg, who thought he was safe hiding behind a rock wall. And another bullet ricocheted between the tight space behind Boss's shield and the stonewall at his back.

  Boss felt the wind from the bullet that missed his neck by a couple of inches. He knew that he had to move immediately. Choosing to attack the closest enemy, Boss slid to his right, the D2NS shield staying in front of him and the thick rock wall at his back.

  The guards hiding on Boss's right side, behind the hallway corner, fell over one another, as Boss got closer. They were trying to move out of his changing field of fire. They didn't move fast enough. Boss mowed them all down except one, who managed to dive behind a large piece of modern art made from stainless steel.

  There was another problem. The bodies stacked on the floor, blocked the D2NS from going forward. It couldn't climb over them. Boss had to retrace his steps and go in the opposite direction. Unluckily for the man hiding behind the artwork, he ventured a peek and was rewarded with a bullet to the head.

  Not exactly panicking but far from being calm, Boss hurried down the hallway, shooting anything that dared to dart around the corner that he was headed for. The longer this firefight went on, the more time the Arabs had to bring out bigger weaponry. He was fairly sure the D2NS shield could take a direct hit from a rocket-propelled grenade, but he really didn't want to test it.

  When Boss reached the far end of the hallway, all the guards had already fled. He hoped they hadn't gone to get some teargas. He hadn't considered being gassed before. If Boss lived through the ordeal, he had some new concepts for the guys who worked in his armory.

  Thanks to a tremendous amount of pushing and shoving from Boss, the D2NS was able to make its way through the scattered, brained bodies lying at the hallway's other side. Boss had decided that the best course of action was to take control of the foyer at the mansion's front door and wait for help to arrive.

  Boss had planned on clearing the whole compound, room by room. But the very real chance of running into an ambush or somebody getting in a lucky shot during his room-to-room transitions changed his mind.

  To his astonishment, he didn't see one living person on his the way to the front entrance hall. There were two guards collapsed by the front door. Upon closer inspection, they seemed to have been drugged. Not willing to take any more chances, Boss put a bullet into each of their brains.

  Then he pulled a chair into the corner, near the front door with the thick stonewall at his back and the D2NS in front of him. Anyone coming into the lobby would be in his personal kill zone.

  "Please, don't shoot! I am Prince Abdul Naheer, son of King Jaheal Naheer," screamed Abdul. "I am about to enter the room. Don't shoot, please!"

  Training one gun where the sound came from and the other towards the front door, Boss yelled, "OK, but only you. I see any of your goons; I'll shoot them in the skull and you in your kneecap."

  Prince Abdul entered the far side of the room with both of his hands up.

  "Come on over here," ordered Boss.

  Abdul walked up to the D2NS's scratched, transparent shielding.

  "Sit on the floor. We need to talk," Boss said.

  Even after all that happened, Prince Abdul grimaced when his butt touched the floor. It was below the station of royalty to sit like peasants, but he did it anyway.

  "How many more men are in the compound?"

  "I do not know, but there cannot be many more. It looks like you slaughtered most of them."

  "Well, I did what I could," Boss said, quite pleased with himself. "Do the remains have access to teargas?"

  "I do not know, Boss."

  At that split second, the front doors exploded outward. Hernandez and eight of his men rushed inside. Prince Abdul peed himself and passed out.

  "Well, it's about damn time," Boss said, as he stood up.

  "Are there any more hostiles?" asked Leon with his Heckler & Koch G36 pointed toward the far doorways.

  "Sort of," said Boss, punching in the code to lower the D2NS's shields, one of which was too damaged to retract. "That piece of shit lying on the floor in front of me is the king's son. Do NOT harm him. My son is also in there somewhere. Don't kill him, either. A giant, Russian bitch is hiding somewhere. Bring her to me alive. The rest of the muthers in this place... kill them all."

  Without uttering another word, Hernandez motioned for half his men to go left. He led the rest, right. Shortly thereafter, sporadic gunfire erupted in the rear of the mansion, followed by screams of pain and death. Undoubtedly, Boss's security detail was making short work of the remaining survivors.

  On a lark, Boss strolled outside and saw that some of his men had caught several terrorists trying to flee into the desert. The robed men were on their knees with their hands behind their heads.

  "Wait," ordered Boss. He went back inside, grabbed one of his .45s, and returned to face the wide-eyed hostages.

  "Please, do not do this, brother," begged one of the men on his knees.

  "Yeah, I'm not your brother, brother," said Boss, as he raised his pistol and rapidly shot each man in the face. One of his victims didn't die immediately afte
r the first round, so Boss shot him again.

  Turning to one of his mercenaries, who looked bewildered at what the boss had just done, Boss asked, "Am I wrong, or is this better than sex?"

  Unable to answer, the young mercenary just shrugged his shoulders.

  Sergeant Leon Hernandez ran from the house to Boss, who was standing over the carnage that he'd just wrought. "Sir, you're son and the Russian woman are not in the mansion. They're gone."

  "Gone where?" asked Boss incredulously. "We're in the middle of a fucking desert."

  Sergeant Hernandez took a satellite phone from one of his men standing nearby and said, "Maybe, Major Elliot spotted them from the sky."

  The Major's phone rang and he answered, "Status report."

  "We have Boss here, sir. He's safe and sound."

  "Good job, Leon."

  "Thank, you, sir. By any chance did you see a vehicle leaving the compound headed into the desert?"

  "Negative, but there looks like an SUV was abandoned a few miles North of your current position."

  "That has to be it," Boss said. "I want you to go get them and bring them back alive. Don't rape the woman, yet. I'll figure out what to do with her."

  "... Ah, yes, sir, Boss. And if I might add, my men don't rape and pillage. We're professionals."

  "Don't care," Boss said as he took the satellite phone away from Hernandez. "Get going."

  Leon motioned for several men to come with him. They commandeered a couple of the Prince's Tahoes, and followed the lone set of vehicle tracks that went northward.

  Boss spoke over the phone to Elliot, "Hey, how did you get the men here? I don't see a helicopter."

  "Some of the Libyan locals drove them over in dune buggies and dirt bikes. They are waiting, a couple of sand dunes to the West of your present location."

  "You're in Libya? How did you get permission to launch a rescue operation from there?"

  "I didn't. Technically, we invaded. But the natives don't seem to care."

  "Well, if they don't care, I don't neither," Boss said and clicked off the phone.